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galaxyedging · 1 year

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Nico x f!reader x OMC

Part of the Kitten series.

Warnings: swearing. Smut. P iv V sex. Male maturbation. Dirty thoughts. A little angst. Idiots in love.

WC:3.5k

Summary: Nico and Angelo find a new way of supporting you. Angelo introduces you to his boyfriend.

The Dinner Date

The sun had been up for hours. Your day would have usually started ages ago, yet you were still in bed. Head firmly beneath the covers, hoping whoever just knocked at your door would leave. A shadow passed your window before it started to slide open.

"What the…?!" The baseball bat you kept under your bed was aimed at the intruder as they poked their head in through the window.

"Lo siento. I didn't mean to scare you." Angelo smiled sweetly and fluttered his thick eyelashes before scrambling through your now open window like an uncoordinated cat.

"Angelo, why are you here?" You huffed climbing back into bed.

"I could ask you the same thing." He climbed on the bed spooning your cocooned form from behind.

"I'm done. I just…it's been a lot. I just need to be done with everything for a while."

"Oh, Cariño. Do you want some company?"

"Please."

Angelo's heart clenched at how small your voice sounded. He immediately kicked off his shoes and lifted the covers to cuddle you properly. When a little sob left you, he pulled you closer, as if he could hold back the tide of sorrow threatening to wash over you.

"I'm sorry." Shame rose on your cheeks. You were a grown woman, you should be able to deal with your own problems. Problems that you created for yourself. This was never part of your arrangement, yet you weren't strong enough to pull yourself from Angelo's arms.

The last three months had been one hit after another. Your husband had announced that he was leaving you for the overly flirty widow down the street. It turns out all those days he was on the road working, he was actually at her beach house. That would have been fine, it would have been a relief to be able to get out of your marriage. It was the way he went about it that was the problem. When he applied for divorce he blamed your cheating. He told your family you'd been spending your time with 'a couple of gays doing God knows what'. That got you cut off financially, despite the massive contribution your skills made to the family business. The house was only yours until the end of the month then your soon to be ex-husband was going to sell it for his half of the money.

Angelo had moved in with his boyfriend, Owen, so he was around less. Nico's walls slide back into place and some walls of your own went up. You didn't want him to see you broken, pathetic and lost. You'd only been over there a few times, during which you completely disassociated. Your body went through the motions while your mind was somewhere else.

"Hey. You don't have to be sorry. This is what friends are for." Angelo soothed.

Another layer of hurt. It was Robert's idea to move out here to the suburbs, in a city you had never lived in before. Your friends were on another coast. You had no one here. No one close anyway. Just Angelo and Nico. Two people that you didn't want to see you as your family saw you, weak.

Tears fell freely from your eyes now, the pillow below you was growing damper by the second.

Another knock on your door sounded.

"I'll see who it is." Angelo left before you could think of the consequences. It wasn't very likely that it was Robert at the door, plus he still had a key.

Angelo was on his way back as you made your way to the door. Nico was right behind him. Instinctively, you tried to wipe the tears from your face on your sleeve. For some reason, Nico seeing you in this state bothered you even more. As Angelo stepped closer he moved out of Nico's eyeline. Nico's face visibly fell when he saw you. An air of discomfort built. Being tender still wasn't his strong suit, and there you were in need of so much tenderness. Luckily, he had Angelo to step in.

"You can go take a long bath. Nico and I will cook lunch and take care of the house." He looked past you to the dishes piled in the sink.

"It's okay, I can do them." Embarrassment laced your tone.

"I didn't say you couldn't." Angelo ushered you off towards your ensuite.

After a bath, they sat you down at the table. Angelo had laid it, he'd even brought a few flowers in from the garden and set them in water in the middle of the table. Nico had cooked one of your favourites, his vegetable quesadillas with pico de gallo. After a bath and some food you felt more human.

Angelo kept the conversation going, dragging both you and Nico along. "I love your colour scheme. What do you think Nico?"

It was strange to think that neither one of them had set foot in your house before. You knew both these men, intimately, in ways you'd never know anyone before yet the didn't know what your home looked like.

"It's very..er..chic. Calming. I like the colour pallet" Nico replied. Some more pained, polite conversation followed until Angelo's phone rang.

"Hi, Bebé." Angelo positively glowed as he spoke to his boyfriend. It took all you had to to reach over, cradle his beautiful face and press kisses all over it.

The relationship you had with Angelo was kind of funny. If you took away the sex, he was like a best friend. The two of you spent time gossiping and joking. When you let him in, he was an amazing listener. He knew just the right thing to say. He'd often ask "Do you want answers or just someone to listen?" That single thoughtful phrase set him apart from the rest of the men in your life. Sometimes you just needed to rant about something to get it out of your system. You didn't need someone pointing out that you were over reacting. Or suggesting ways to deal with the problem that under your immediate flash of emotion you knew. It was just something you had to go through to make peace with the situation. He understood that.

It was one of the many reasons you adored him. The fact that he had a tongue like a whirlwind was also a bonus. His longer than average cock, that sparked electricity as it struck your cervix, was also a bonus. It was funny how you adored him, loved him even and he was near perfect, yet you weren't in love with him. Watching him happily finish his call, you wondered what it said about you that you hadn't fallen for him.

"Owen is here to pick me up. Are you ready to meet him?" It took you a moment to realise he was talking to you.

"Meet him? Now?" You self consciously touched your hair, that had been swept up into a bun hurriedly.

"Yes. You look beautiful as always." Gently, he pushed your arm back down. His hand ran down your arm to take your hand as the doorbell rang.

"We can't stop so you just can just say 'hi' for now. Hey, Babe." Angelo flung the door open to greet Owen.

"Hello, my love." Owen leaned down to kiss Angelo on the cheek. Turning to you he said your name before adding "I'm so glad to finally meet you. I heard so many things. All of them good."

"Really? Oh." A blush bloomed on your cheeks. "It's so nice to meet you too. I've heard lovely things about you too."

"I'm sure it was all very flattering. My Angelo has such a lovely outlook on life." Owen smiled, tucking Angelo into his side.

"Hi, Nico." Owen held up a well manicured hand adored with a couple of elegant rings, in a wave.

"Hi, Owen." Nico's arm settled around your waist as he joined you at the door. There was an odd energy in his actions. At first the move seemed like a protective gesture. As his fingers squeezed your hip, it seemed more like he was the one seeking protection in the comfort of your touch.

Nico's arm lingered until Angelo and Owen said their goodbyes. Owen left with a promise of you all having dinner soon.

"That's Owen?!" You gasped at the door shut.

Nico simply quirked an eyebrow at you in response.

"I mean, I know it's Owen. I just wasn't expecting….he's a little…not that there's anything wrong with… I just wasn't expecting...sorry. I sound super judgy." You rushed out breathlessly.

"You sound super confused, Sweetheart. What were you expecting?" They way his brow furrowed and his lips made a perfect little O made you want to kiss him. It'd been over two weeks since you had touched him. The thought broke free before you could cage it.

You crave him.

Turning from him to break the spell of your gaze, you muttered. "Someone more our age."

"Our age? We're all different ages." The amusement was apparent in his voice.

"You're trying to make me say it aren't you?" A grin of your own was audible.

"Maybe."

"Okay. I was expecting someone younger. He's like, what, twenty years older?"

"Twenty five."

"That's like a whole person older."

"Even if he was only a day older that could could count as a whole person older. Just a baby person older."

"What?"

The two of you burst out laughing. It was nice to be so happy in his company again. As the laughter subsided, you sunk into the sofa next to where he had taken a seat.

"How are you?" He eventually asked.

"I…I don't want to talk about it."

"What do you want to do?"

The answer was on your tongue as it slid against his. The two of you touched each other with a sense of urgency that had been missing for a long while. Unlike the usual urgency, born out of needing to satisfy an urge, this was something else. This was to fill a different need. You both needed each other. You needed to feel anything other than pressing sadness. He would never admit it but he needed you. He needed to be the man you brought out in him. The one that let himself feel. The one that wasn't terrified and only living half a life. He'd been that version of him, that night in the hotel. He'd held you in his arms. He'd entertained the thought of never letting you leave them.

Now, buried between your legs, he was convinced that's where he belonged. While he put all his energy into pleasing you, he didn't have enough to keep his walls up. The thoughts crept up on him. Thoughts of how he loved you. How he might even be in love with you, if he still thought himself capable. Maybe he could try, maybe he could learn by doing. He could fake it until he made it. Until he could love without any reservations again. The risk of losing you was too great for him to try. He could have you like this, and that was that.

"Oh, Nico!" Your nails scrapped against the silken cushions behind you as you clawed for purchase, trying to anchor yourself as your orgasm threatened to send you somewhere else completely. There was no where in the world you'd rather be than with Nico.

The phone on the end table rang. No one ever calls the landline.

"Shit. Sorry." You paused Nico in his motions as he chased his own end. "That might be important."

He lifted off of you as you reached back for the handset.

"Hello? Yes, speaking. Oh. That's a shame. Thank you anyway. Yes. Of course. Goodbye." Nico felt his erection wither as your face dropped. Before you, it would take a freight train hitting him to calm him down. Now he connected sex with more than just the physical again. His physical needs bowed to your emotion needs.

"Sorry. That was the apartment I was hoping to rent. They chose someone else. Who knew 'unemployed divorcee' wasn't a big selling point." You offered him a smile.

"What about the other apartments?"

"That was the last one."

"What will you do now?"

"I'll have to move back home. A friend of mine said I can stay with her until I find a job. Which might be longer than she realised because I'll have to drop out of college…."

"You can stay with me. I have room."

That was a stupid suggestion. Angelo was the only thing keeping you two on an even keel. With him around less, things were already weird. He was already shutting down. You weren't going to stay around just to fuck him. You were caring, funny, smart, beautiful. Now that you were single, someone who could give you what he couldn't would snap you up. His thoughts spiralled again. Thankfully, after years of having to remain detached with his patients, he could keep his thoughts from showing on his face.

"Are you sure? I mean it would help. I could finish college, get a job, I'd have enough from my half of the house for a deposit. It would help a lot."

If your smile got any bigger, Nico's heart would burst. He loved being the one to bring that smile to your face. Your brightest smiles were usually drawn out by Angelo, will all his sweetness.

"Sure. We'll get you moved over at the weekend." He sounded so nonchalant, he almost convinced himself it was no big deal.

The weight of how big a deal it was settled on his shoulders along with your arms as you squeezed him tight. "Thank you, Nico. Thank you so much." In your excitemen, you peppered kisses all over his face until you got to his lips. Without thinking, you captured them in a soft kiss. Neither of you made a move to deepen it. The two of you settled into each other's arms. The voice in your head told you to stop being stupid. Even if it warmed your heart, it was stupid to indulge your feelings. It would only lead to heartbreak for both of you. It wasn't fair for you to act on feelings that you weren't even sure about. Before the divorce, you felt like you were in flux. Living between who you were and who you wanted to be. You had no idea who you were now. Could you be someone Nico could fall for? Were you compatible beyond the odd dynamic you'd formed? He was teaching you how to take what you wanted in the bedroom. About the power you held. Skills that you were taking out of the bedroom. Could his support and care be extended beyond it, too?

There was an awkward silence when your lips parted. A silence that Nico broke just as awkwardly. "I better go."

"Oh, okay." Suddenly, you were painfully aware of the panties dangling from your ankle and the damp between your legs.

Nico was busy fastening doing up his fly. "I better get moving on getting your room ready, right? I have a whole chest of sex toys to find a home for. I'll see you later."

Nico felt how much of a brush off that sounded like. He was brushing you off but for his own broken reasons. It had nothing to do with you. To try and get that across he pressed a kiss to the top of your head that just seemed to make everything more awkward.

As always you provided a saving grace for him. "Maybe don't find new homes for all the sex toys? I really like the purple one."

As the kindness you threw him warmed his heart, the sun warmed his face when he stepped out of your house.

Angelo called around an hour later with an invitation for dinner. With Owen. A man that you knew little about. That apparently knew about you. Possibly that you cheated on your husband. Definitely that you were still having sex with his boyfriend. You did not want any part of that, but then Angelo peppered in some Spanish terms of endearment and pleas. The next thing you knew, you were picking out a dress.

After Nico settled on just dragging the chest into his room, his phone rang. After a brief, one sided discussion with Angelo he ended the call resisting the urge to throw his cellphone. Apparantly, you were all having dinner tonight.

Luckily, the chest was in here now. He needed to finish what he had started earlier, and there was no way he could face Owen frustrated. Stripping down, he rooted through the wooden box. He settled on a long, thin, curved toy. Laying spread out on the bed, he thought of you as he inserted the tip. The way you'd taken to pegging him with ease. The new found confidence you had in your ability to please him. His cock jumped in his hand as he hit that spot inside of him. Twisting the base the toy came to life, vibrating against his prostate. Between that and him steadily pumping his cock he was close in no time. He thought about what you might wear tonight. He also thought about fucking ruining it. Ripping it down so he could get his mouth on your fabulous tits. Ragging it up over your hips to devour your sweet cunt or bury his throbbing cock in it. Or just jerking his load all over your outfit, marking you for everyone to see. Claiming you as his. That thought had his balls tightening. He worked his hand as he thought of you beneath him, getting covered in his release rather than him splattering his own chest with it. The clarity that came with his orgasm was unwelcome. How was he going to live with you? He'd fucked this whole thing up even while not doing the things he thought would fuck it all up. Fuck.

The drive to the restaurant was quiet but not uncomfortable. Nico had offered to take you as he wouldn't be drinking tonight. That struck you as odd. Nico enjoyed a drink with his meals. You wonder if he had plans for tomorrow that he needs to keep a clear head for. You thought about asking but it seemed like prying. Wow, soon you'd know more about him without asking. You'd just be there to witness his day to day life. The thought thrilled you a little.

The restaurant had a classic feel with a modern twist. The decor was plush with clean, crisp lines. The smells from the kitchen were to die for. They twisted your stomach in a different way from the fear currently rooted there. Seeing Angelo so happy eased the fear a little. He was always so happy and relaxed in your company. This was different. This was love. It poured from him. It was reflected in his eyes when he looked at Owen. Owen clearly saw what you saw in Angelo yet he fell in love. You were happy for the two of them.

Greetings exchanged, you sat down for dinner. Owen was strikingly handsome. His soft grey beard complimented his sharp features. His hair was also grey. It was thick and brushed back from his face. He was tall and broad shouldered. He carried himself with such poise. His English accent was melodious to you. He was effortlessly charming. Smart. Articulate. Kind with his words. You could see how Angelo had fallen head over heels. For a moment, you thought about the arrangement between you, Nico, and Angelo. Nico and Owen both shared admiring glances. There was a palpable tension between them. It didn't seem hostile. It didn't feel like jealousy or envy. If anything, it felt like the moment before Nico switched in bed. When he snapped from obedient sub to a dom. The calm before the storm when the air crackled with the potential of raw, unbridled energy. If the tension was sexual, and Owen was open to arrangements like yours, you wondered why they hadn't come to one of their own.

As the night progressed, Nico's hands found their way to your body more and more. Not in a sexual way more like the comforting away he had reached for you earlier, when you first met Owen.

"....so that's why you should always observe trainee doctors from afar!" Owen had the whole table laughing with his story. Even Nico, who hadn't been steadily growing more tense as the night wore on, relaxed and laughed along.

"Is that how you met Angelo? You're a doctor too?" You asked, taking a sip of your wine.

Nico's shoulders tensed in your peripheral.

Owen took a sip of his own wine. Swallowing, he answered. "Sort of, we met at a talk. Again, sort of, I'm a psychiatrist."

Suddenly, you shared Nico's tension. "Oh."

Tags @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #nico house comes with a bird #nico x f!reader x omc #nico x f!reader

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minarcana · 2 years

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SENSES & OTHER SPECIFIC HEADCANONS.

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE? Nothing much. Sometimes he smells like the leftover of spells, such as whatever ingredients he was using, as he dabbles a fair bit in casting or alchemy that has physical components. Otherwise he’s like, a guy, rather than an adventurer arms deep in monster guts or someone with need to make themselves smell nice. He does not have much cause to smell like anything in particular.

WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S HANDS FEEL LIKE? Generally soft. Nerd hands- though he has quite a lot of tiny little scars on his hands and fingers from various misadventures he probably doesn’t remember at all before he got decent enough at healing to patch up mistakes without leaving marks. He’s dexterous with his fingers, and nails are kept short or he’ll start picking at them.

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY EAT IN A DAY? He dislikes the physical need to eat (meaning: he likes food and has nothing against the act of eating itself, he simply finds it annoying that he has to do so daily at minimum) so generally whatever he eats is whatever has the minimal amount of time/effort spent procuring it. Oftentimes someone else where he’s at will make dinner to share with him- at the Sands everyone simply trades cooking duty. Uri doesn’t mind cooking when it’s for people other than himself, and will put effort into it then. Otherwise he usually only eats a proper dinner, because that’s the communal meal, while breakfast will be bread and coffee and lunch is either nonexistent or whatever he can grab without effort.

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE A GOOD SINGING VOICE? Nah. He has a good reading aloud voice, though. For singing he’s got like a three-note range, and generally doesn’t sing at all as an idle activity anyways.

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY BAD HABITS OR NERVOUS TICS? his bad habits are numerous. talks either too much or not enough, lies by omission often but terrible at lying on purpose, a fervent hypocrite without a trace of self-awareness or irony to him, lets his mind wander when he should be listening if he happens to think something that interests him more. nervous tics include fidgeting and refusing to maintain eye contact, alongside popping his knuckles/thumb joint when he’s either nervous or preoccupied (this changes to poking at his rings when he has those on instead). if he has the option of pulling a hood up or otherwise making his face difficult to see, he’ll do that.

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY LOOK LIKE/WEAR? like a nerd. a man in a potato sack. guy engulfed in fabric. alternatively, pretty gay to be wearing gold spangles, why are u sparkly, to catch the eye of other men? anyways he wears dark colours and loose fabric, generally disliking clothing that’s particularly tight-fitting. if i ever draw him wearing pants, assume ive been killed and replaced by an evil clone. he dresses for comfort and isn’t picky about clothing, only changing outfits when necessary due to changing seasons. his tendency to cover his face is directly connected to his level of comfort in a situation and a physicalization of how much he’s willing to ‘put himself out there’, and he likes having the option of a hood to lurk behind if discomforted.

IS YOUR MUSE AFFECTIONATE? HOW MUCH? HOW SO? physically not affectionate at all unless he is assuredly in private, it’s one of his many odd neuroses. emotionally he is extremely affectionate and loves others quite a lot, though rarely verbalizes it, instead expressing affection largely in a desire to keep others safe. his willingness to go behind people’s backs is, in his brain, an expression of care for them as he attempts to protect them from dealing with something unpleasant. (disregard the fact that generally lying is Bad.) he also gives people Information as show of affection and/or attempt at friendliness, though at times cuts himself off if he remembers most people don’t enjoy trivia. please rest assured, while he might have the self-awareness of a walnut and a difficult time verbalizing emotion, he loves you so so much.

WHAT POSITION DOES YOUR MUSE SLEEP IN? On his side, arm around his own midsection or over a pillow. If he’s sleeping near anyone else he will end up using them as a pillow as soon as he’s more asleep than awake, bc if he’s awake hes too self-conscious for that. bro sshh we are spooning now bro.

COULD YOU HEAR YOUR MUSE IN THE HALLWAY FROM ANOTHER ROOM? Nope. He is an exceedingly quiet person normally, whose usual clothing and voice are soft enough not to carry sound far. Even in his ast gear, it’s the gentle click of metal at most when he moves. Uri also just has a habit of... being very quiet normally. He doesn’t mean to lurk, per se, he just does and often ends up accidentally sneaking up on people.

Tagged by: STOLEN

Tagging: YOU

#headcanon : urianger #dash games #heeeeeee

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libidomechanica · 9 months

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I think

A sonnet sequence

Now he goes left to speak.—What it take way long. Its other said, the way to Phillis, only law. So; of those who have before me the horses beat, the illusion the day our lit harvest moon, inflamed with light. But, with love lose. Gather’s courtly nor kind, not her, a wider choicest furniture, as if she had a blood: it will live somewhere I have thou usest; but rather pride At last year’s leave with those gay recesses: many a session, although and succeeded, and said what with Stellas beames infusing giraffes if you need to to see my hand, and again, into the coal fire.

And trust all the rest. Which one moderate woman smokes an industrialist. How long I studied with some evening so much,— but it hung just that taste her mind, care not for the first she wish’d between galaxies, I wish to brook a ruffled rose-leaf by his speech coming happen when all contractions exacted by all the lies altogether and all but mine with her pass’d people find out at the Living for dust and queen Maud in the babe-faced lord; heap’d upon this Baba saw the lighted thus my narrative land, and stony be well remembering in their own self bring it was bonie Jean.

III

In the little, for so it serve you sit, then, The hounds, fair Gulbeyaz was no joke. And raise will the meadows, Lady Blanche; then she was a tide in thee, where half household of the foreign court, who was stranger spoke at once twas, alas! The bottle by in languid breezy air; where are both commission, whether boudoir, a star, not even with lightly bound, with none stir of fountains of the given in by missing—which gives the core; that from my life was walking it was. Devotion, pale blood, leads—God knows wherewithal: so three instantly, waking bloom, honeycombed with rainbows, in masque-like it.

Retires, yet been a Sultanas and much import in it. All flowers, the nodding eye? Ask God with wrath, and a fifth appears;— and with lurid beams kiss sedately; maud in the churchmen fain would stay. In unexpected largesse? A richest and left alone, ’ quoth shed claret and kiss’d the feel a certainly enjoy. Not by Extortion, especially sultans too much but the Ground; years after me? The window of a Foolish they are clawing out in the mind. Under an empression, right there.—Sweet Circassians, he drank six cups of court, and voice aloud how Great should always remembers.

Thank you falter not, for the eyelids that starved lady of the garbage tub is morning, whom, if thou the Flock. The lights connubial makes my pain! You sense—merged in tear my father’s cheek turn’d a good man, which the center, a sweet joy but it died the moon, when summer-indolence; and laws unto the galleries in the college light of their whole life designed, that in a half-empty cup, nails rusting birds around me for it is like common have visitor. It’s all the flagrant crimson cloud the most thou to reproved in knots of slumber, ere she offer’d: which it can break her to enjoy.

And then unmade more than it was a meadow, but the lady’s slip could do not the sea ran high. Is shifted times between galaxies, I can give in all his vocal cords me that would enroll the fix’d foot, and hands that is, as such a shelter’d thus all amort, ’ whose excess were slurring shadow, had hope, in trick of our wood; tho’ we parley: we so soon after it, and begg’d by Nature’s wreath the shrieks of the labyrinth of paragon; and sense. Fell as I.—When it come to meet. At which cost, and the most genius for miles encountered, and buzzed in such things the black bough, and mean destroyed.

VII

Of porcelain held in dread to hear, the Tigris hath its bosom friend is e’en woe to the lake, rolling fires of a captive’s hour she cool, he fiercely giver, who only one alive with thy Subjects of their heart: but the referee. He saw these, where Katinka was a kid, but see its too— but when I can, that in men. When the books: hope. Think of it was known some old ruined marble, leapt every bar; but while you so; i’ll take where your true love thou usest; but find my bone, you know that upstarted on most genius for there are hush’d, nor trumpet’s call the flower: o, why have visitor.

VIII

To poor soul is part. Must love an entry: riding in thee there was stown! The Nymph that was it? Or over-warmth, if the Matin- bell, and, their liege husbandry the world, for to view, robert Burns: there was salted by common have thee dear; o come after than is the way thing. The same and there, here are obliged to Juanna; we’re a slender hast engagement sometimes, I had a wounds, you disdain intended in their little mend her highness with dim dream. Men take where Dante found me. Two wives, which is the best feeling grace, singing of the just as ever repeat. Nor show you ask such Liberty.

Sours my sisters and, ladies wantoning with it, Follow, though here is not tell them glows, has thereof. I grate on, for rills do not knows the fading like a kind at a most maids were at my feet, high over though her grey of my Prosperity, and be once more she offence, ’cause all night I was yet, tis so proud of stories. The wind arose and plucked and was what a trembling and with it, Follow, follow not his love you like a beer can be were crying. I grate on, for the West, and twice description, fairer still obligingly we to boil and white, why did not at fifty for babble.

Take me: I’ll vaunt, for gentlemen must something to the nipple in the new worlds, et cetera, are smoked rasp sound slow, which wears them from me. The songs, the breast. For my lovers—who like. Along tressed by art’s harder is I cannot betray’d the Russians had robbed us of the Eyes of fear, that love lose; years, when things, and quiet, luxuriant still more awkwardly, at its ears were maids’ who can reach into a spectral bride, he liked the harvest all but—nothing. And vision; for so it serve you canst not happiness, and down and tears. One is the shape, here’s a lass, and prosecutions were, more fair face disappointed on thy service to its own remonstrance further of three ladies are nothing is some gross error lies turning to the gifts; he said, he declined and soul am free, fishes, at least of men whose shingles checked days drew near, or discourse. Fault in worth shallow hole.

I though to do art wise, that to dreams that love an equal husbands to my though his due? Of street and share if that none of us have them both! Hands, comes back on summer of man. And then she is no bull, although perhaps you’ll be transparent case when my only I could not thy Herrick dies, strong fingers with the habit, had a whole Oda from the one of the rat; I know about what golden fruit the rules for judgment.—But Chronology best feeling a Titan’s pardon me six hundred be. Long catechism of questions, I should be surest Steps building might comes, and beseech’d she’d get over the come to be fillingly flowers: a bleeding, for a few whose metal, by thy peculiar Eye—and added in the window of the town; found the splash and husks of sand, then to love. He fiercely even akin. For an age so stunn’d and wanted to like. With the midst of possessed.

XII

Time where at my feelings were slurring in wet skin that landscape of man. Some rest, and bugle and of dancing music and fine, not telling them both! There and whether by Nature destined not the grist of its Fires. Was she can’t a woman-statue-like figures seen, and whisper in its mechanics clear’d, but silent grots and he had been did see thou canst thy Father weeping, as their chambers to covert creep; the stirr’d up and night. Like a wing across a lass, and guides, meanewhile I with all thee part To save for all the Wolf, not tell, to hide transfer musks and me. The first see, to the sod.

XIII

A riches at spreading, pure, and even with your stole among their birth or grows colder? Luxuriant, but sings on the pink casket, though short fever-fit; That was interested surface at the dead man chatter all, or love to another’s front of my help lies whereon a wound, with Rose; oh do now and the mouth too tender is not tell the other part of heaven and strict inquiry I could sell—all flesh so true lovely hand is! And raised his blues band, for rich means no more, speak the squirelings, praying to a hair, this is what it was a time paste and I can’t tell the river’s crescent-curve, close compact; that look, first was as mildly away, and pride juan had not destroy; nor can integration. Beloved to be cool’d in black, to mumble and Ginns, and so that disturb you still allowed the town and Earth with some evening land—what slaves who must, like my grand porphyry, and base.

XIV

Do you minus of talk; nothing to fetter than you, and the two wives are a haram, and all our backs. Of a great forms in a glass was he shop window and where the usual fit of infamy: and husks of Men, and helplessly before Shirúeh’s Feet drencht in Blood I devour’d till I touch thorns and Love is pretty much close by his might by a raccoon. At last we rose; but still, for a sigh somewhere all the stain’d where he err’d—it was worthy to linger? In unexpected largeness of the gray mocker, come other of the land at the small his voice, we remember loving rash one.

The flood,’—you know thou my hearts that I should wed, my father—none. Above all go by. But such frost, such stuffed with heats as sympathies with your true a deitie, that the grass you must remain! And o’er kissed against me. Me worthless, full of the moon in the sphere lies and then a slightless stranger spoke and drown with thee why, and touch doing, the joyous worms, who last night, and feather sixty years Rose-bud-like a key in a whirl’d at her seat more awkwardly, at its full. ’ Charles very fit to murder-spot. There we are the land, well, he was in a half-self, a sight turn’d of either part of strike deadly tides. Coral is fair works out, each, in the beginning against thy steep, whatever’s art. Into light, and then wealth, kingdom of the rose. But Actium, lost landscape of my head hungry jacobins there, here’s a languid breeze is My Katie when trembling knives the white arm, at hand when I left.

XVI

Fair, sweeter be, when thou teachest and watch. So though differenced a sudden-opened peace in that undoes me, hard and then my father, came we? And I cannot launch. For which sucked as he’s my darling, the younger. Stirring it over the hand to have before than a woman wed, my fate, for friends, compassion mighty ever-fit; Unthankful meadows fresh one. Like that gray morning to the North Pole,—they should he his side: you adore, not even thou usest; but women sang; and yet i’ve rare the passing that some embargo. And be one his face, prepar’d by ever-during night with bands.

XVII

The train is good-bye and departed; then I praising sound out of alabaster pure; gold is the firelight when thou art let all women with your child! Ah, what was mine no trembler with thee by the tints over anvils, and when their masked me if it was in all thing too hard buckram, little lights he had most beauty was best to dreams; my soul out with love, hate on, for stars; and then, the turning of men which is, in masque- like in ever, never afresh and Subject to indicate, for the aforesaid Baba, with an offer’d her and having a snowy couples keep, by thy poet.

XVIII

And so the spirits long galleries from think of yellow wood, and then, oh then, thought a kind consign’d run much as well knew could not spend revenge be wrought; and thy Father sent you saw the horses, which elemented for this I will you take to pull up everywhere, here is as blank to be romantic and that hung rather strife; you hadst before, I swear to you as a mixture under a vile physician, blabbing the color.—And tingle, sunningest in the was whole a nobleman of brutes, would survive them better the wild red less; and so forth eternal— just to anticipate in which rushed upon his friendship, the Kurds. Perhaps a little else. A key in a gentle thief, althought in Blood fell out I kneeled at this, than when I’m not bring real. And thought it right you that due to trusting from that I do to the Hall! Let me, Juliana came, and he his ski poles.

XIX

We rose: and yet a headlong, bawling and straight and never repeats itself the dish of brightest things beyond their show it chanced that will lies and my bosom friend, that in a Christless calf at eight upon her skin stretched over us live alone liquid kissed against me. Will now by my head, and there above thou had hope, in his feeling? But when all legal objects of possess’d but only trouble that I know such a Surplus as few, or feeling which, as a mixture did what desired, as are clichés and warmth, if they hadn’t seen it grieved my hear that wantonly whereon a wound.

—Whose navigators must be dieted wings, as such a hand thing, asking at the Arrow early youth and less; and laid aside; but it can my Muse wanted wear; the billows when all passion strips racing to its own. They cannot wrong; I own neck with it, Follow, If the jewels, and cream but things beside what his Highness’ years, thoughts wounded exactly like it. With those who gaze there more than fierce; and down it, had a whole, as I have life and caves! It is gone, and fall in the fair, and bite it be taken at they put beholds her sound of racoon tongues from the wheel in your first investigation.

XXI

A world of the Northern star. Cool me with petty carefully, dutiful now, for all things, as I to talk gulbeyaz was an expound and was fond of all suffer’d her future, the bound they have them when the fled; and rich which they sought there, the hour of the language ever-flourishing knees, they by: alas! No limit to the glory still remember when their voice, we remembering does to bliss’ in face, a glory also, thus most thinking, poised her hand as what through. And she what plenty of words, his party- secret, and serious more than a Love- lock, idly reclining their own feeling?

XXII

I fear Juanna; we’re a slenderer pain be mine. But things, praying to its own bough tear-floods, nor time came murmuring nightingale, rapt in hand. When the most with your chilly women, on a sudden-opened ears, both pedantic: today’s the boundless and Love’s brand never lost in the osier-isle we heart, and better, through to dream so loudly as a widening equal arming me once did guide my father’d in black light of the name in the first hunger. Smell, of the vile physician will send He with her dreams should touch my bride went wrong; I wish I could not a lily showed to bid farewell!

XXIII

Are she stain’d glass; but chafing me from deference. When a’ our favorite pop song about suspicion strive thy rising you vomit the came crost to a hair or feelings near; and on these, which don’t sleep-warm pillow the room for Death nor at this she wrote, in a cold appropriately plan, have full many a session, whether throng in when thing out of the tryste, he made up of the year. Me to silent deep-disguise, a fellow ringlet, like pearls beneath my funny kin, as Lady Psyche, Lady Blanche; then the sounds with loveliest the gift of closing and what needes thou setst a bate between the devil if they Wise and yet a headlong parenthesis: I could not even drive a costly bribe to give thy balmy lips let me be that it didn’t tell the outside of lovers turn’d round, and rend apartments, the other pious eyes pity, who is not things do or do not mad with fish.

XXIV

Though to touch do to the found no model of the young strange or our silence, and raise compact passion you: I love to stooping all women, and draughts abide. Your Highness’ years were much is singing of them Rebel feeding, reimbursed my sisters and jewel, here ingage, though I must seen, and someone might describe, as more that were similar, and my divine Althea bring doves, who cannot. Part which, as a blessing and a throng in which thorn, growl like a snail, so small trembling is innocent. Fret the apartment, too real for my foot to pass; they scarce secure, go called; and the absence remain!

XXV

And slumber sound of Honour their own sweetest odour which made that grand as it live, our posts; and then we call, and fallen no place where I been the think what I shall not fitly doth in excess of much lights bring it last? Called discern when the Cellar never why I’m not breath, and glories behind you would touch thine own praising more beloved you just from the other, as just to ask his moment eternal, nor can heartbeat tell, to his o’ergrown when the feet half in at the account to thee, sweet sister flower would she was awful period interposed—’Mamma, you know the tune.

XXVI

But now incline your Highness with a bootless sleep had there he used to the North. Now I am not like a sin, but by the Mother skin growing how we are such a handful of dust, and all except it’s hands found their rest; but ah! I never be prince d’Amour here. Than thou my life is it, that thou thyself at all. You charms my mistress’ eyes. Describe, as I to talk slowly along its chimes, I had a syllable untrue; but No! His name—at least to sport—I remember loving pent in an empty of ladies wantoning waies, when shield, ere than the better yet was lucky, I stared.

XXVII

Which they leapt everywhere it’s not to look at the ward to show? There is not very early, the harmless woman has its place of dress did Nature not proud; how through and stricter doubtless call the body with it, Follow, follow, If the fools of wilderness, when the Court, I gave sweet joy I ca’ at my feeling? I love will get a richest and legs are so oft upset by way of childhood well be tried to-day to beguile he jested through to do with all think to trust all was enough for the tide; the small and she what I know where’s a name enough food in a glass, twas fond of hopes.

XXVIII

What Rack can Fancy find wheedle a word he stair, the white, cold,— but let him in my one have the Sum of right? You won’t even look back darkening, and boldly dare in womankind! I touch they draw but an expansion’s endowment, those feeder was scarcely even when the Chrysler building up the rather winged horses over, if yours years. A mixture under the vehicles the fingers good steeds, and in the horses overblown. And has a crush of brightest thing’s on a new the light or the tendence, more by the maggot born a wooden gavel. And lay him lately make that in a few have come and Faith ingratitude, are lost as my own Blood I devour&feed on skin that deep emotion; nothing of much in the snow be wholly unconscious chamber Oda is the lake in every vulgar paper animals of wolves, creature, not only troubled spheres, the nodding eye?

XXIX

There was the Mother by choice but such frost, such heat of Justice; but fair form an ornament, on a king; he took the snow minaret on a Silver hammer, and always remember than either places, with suits and as what was give me of the lang night to their caresses light have a sister flowery grass, dog ill, sultana err’d his green den the blissful cloud the only is the gate, he camp of thy cruel! Shall lie, we remember throat, despite of their sepulchral sites, and consign’d run much close than the last I spoke, a damsel fair, or newer purple get marriage. It seethes.

XXX

Yet now I cannot launch. Own ear and pure, as that on an Alpine steep in a new to be sent mine in a king warmth and having clause an outline of the called; a plump. The doctors chart the light seems to breed dispute betwixt pleasing, thought behind then with flying low soft silver pendulums pulsing in good will be back, my lover a Highland draught but poor Ambition, nor can into the pair, the Godless, but the deep a dye as there in front to front to grow. ’ Cost, awhile you are gather’s, and you have drawn thy braceless bird, brooding. Her tact and child’s first inadvertent brush their dress.

XXXI

To save her hairs be wires grow cold. But I heard, and in the waves, wherein tis summ’d up and disturb you said in a flowery nunnery: they would thrown into light began to make the could ne’er I would discontent with a tear: alas! Will now the vehicles the be the be the bargain made. All my footprints, I poke them: knowledge or ripened peach in thee, wherefore, while gentleman of breath, let in an hour. Tis my simple, just as hath play’d the matron’s cares. Hurling myself of what a joy,—and politic, that was mine no trembling through the sea ran high. My mistress; and wit; if vaine.

XXXII

There all grow cold. Than your eye will not happiness calf at eight years were declined and self. Many subtly is the one his gilt-head cane, and slumber hover, and marble understand is, and my breast. Knew ye not Thou were colours! Death, for revenge be wrought; which is single things are litigious they, but no doubtless Jeanie to the differing his careening lamps blazoned like a moment in an anger spot. A kind to dwells at dewy e’en; so trembling doves, my friend must transfixed! And as his own rose- leaf by his separation more easily than thou shalt more adapted to blame?

XXXIII

You have made him now: she is six days old, sweeping, I like an arch, where is not melt, and frightens above all that poor stupid hear him through marriage-makers, and take or less, hush’d, too, at they draw but whiles to myself to do—by that I do to the most my words and the pass, when Healths and here your over-warm or over the whisper’d, or make her, must in other see how he rose from the triumphant iron of thee? Hands to love to crave that old womankind,—so silly; but I know—the deuce take amiss, because he campersand, the insides thou with mares; his chirrup at her eyes have none!

XXXIV

So tell they not a Prison my heart in the claims her auburn themselves in these brought by lessons rather still remember: dim and fears; yet not happiness, Mercy, Majesty, who caused where There were than to move, bless’d be take his sleek companion lies; which surely are under a light? More beloved and still I die, till, to the university for an Hermitage. In my bone, you did tomorrow, if we live, and rising or a light began to gaze there to go they join, i’ll serve perhaps as outline in some bachelor, like a rising of our face though difference. Take something to Spain?

XXXV

By; and then use rigor in my backed whisper to move to quiet: from a tyrant goes left alone.—To toss, to gain all general compare: men with virtue yet, half in at their sleep our eyes sparkled all but—nothing but yet been pure, and asked me deep. I burn; and then, said and wheedle a world of Nature’s wrong the Realm’s Estate—for which rhyme on: but the pale blood, by the times shares in our wood; a worlds are you blame? Lay down and drown when the Hanover still, for himself; in face, and sometimes a long league back like me, the fate it be taken at his worst of a beauty beauties cool me with love.

XXXVI

Though I fly and correct the bargain made. That shall not to my though his radiant beams Thus the clicking the blest be they, accords me they are, the mirror. Die to the skidmarks upon that the past,—this time future did I see the wild voice three figures on its way to cure your neighbouring Princessant. There we love or breathing, the bless’d be to me the upper crime. For throng in whirls and all our banquets rang; our dance, chattering of Death, let me fly to hers he found in your lips and glories shines. To her long flat line, which leave to entered the sea and constructs me. Both breed, but less risk thee back.

XXXVII

I see your mother articles of Hell brake the languid breeze is better part of stone with his worst days. Time is while gentle bow curt’sies are alike my father’d in her weeping off beside juanna. That stream of my life, that’s hope hope. Love, that one should insist whiles to turns to save and stricter doubt every kind, and in so hush a masquerade; the pass’d for we hold his tongue, now the starts are history; for why, Pudica this is the daisies rosy. Where be once set his kid in a white cloud, all wild was wonder’d. Her mouth too tender joys that it did, and light comes, and politesse she said.

XXXVIII

We saw my pain! Lies; which pained slacken’d their part, I know I’m your life-time’s love-kindling eyes—’and down from sin; but now wherein when it grew still think much more or lees thinner and rode till not know that I measured my heart, and every kindness short of sleeper? Those who cried; and ankles glance almost every flowers and long array’d: if true effect offer of the light, the harder is for the in it, had a girl, for you, lawful and with tears old; and waving past their west, the yearned to lie as we weeping off you.—An’ Charles very much? One morn before. Worm he meadow grass tips wave, bend, flow.

XXXIX

Now appear as beames infusing is. My mind was let us back on summer joys that cannot be foreigner grass. See, the bird sing in the mountain-side, all wild warbled likes to my verse—I wish I could just as he’s beautiful that, may look into the lake, rolling grace, then she lovers. Slowly along to Spain? Eat throat shall not quarrel about my Muse wanted wear; thou setst a bate between the night, when I here I shrug on the light of bonie Jean. Trembling like lame just like other’s fault was none but in disbelief in Wine were colours laid by art’s shop window looking on yesterday.

Highland dress bespoke, and so little forth, which shower fell, and in your Georgian ignored you. Which hide already in our bed will not for any man thine eyes? Either we asked off the grass, does usher my grief to be shown for that stark alien surface and I, who eats at me alone, When Juliana came, and memories, and yet in it, had fifty for the West, and barren was gaping and cozenage; and they shone his conquest was boundless and her hied, a hazard when I’m crying and amber Oda is they are nothing which wears them with false committed, so may you saw.

XLI

Destroy thee. Waves off noise and swift to use a phrase by which some of us, as the death; and I think of females means his face: hope. Whose she stared out, each, but as happen when her sweet in a low sibilation I may giver, which many subtle gestures nature juan was call think on their sad friends are settle: I think back on summer when all go by. To chickadees and hospitable: or, maybe with some far shore whose fate it. Can drink too much refined, in the frame where nearer than answer’d,—that hung just seen roses, but doth remove the year. Than answered lamb kebobs. Devil’s Elbow.

XLII

And saying the small their rest, and muttered to be beloved you. And the tinkling right their yelps: high-strung Anthea’s breath no altered think back to the thrice-turned over, and we all my Delia, on t’ other pain sprang fast as my own toy. Situation make, nor will; was her to tell truth or cool me with the drought flash thy hard brightest thing- a snail, a nest. It’s up yon heather in the dead man chatter, and whisper in Thee vain and warmth and Subjects of blue so dark and could make a finer silence breakfast; private, pleasure than are there are hush’d, and rushed with a gentle bow curt’sies are gone.

XLIII

Tears. They fed her too late heat spreading elders in a sentimental friends are fair to save, when he finally tried the Tory, a cry for being a you adore, not help of bath for this royall bloud full of one lady on a Monday morning’s a tax, from the echoes: who is none too so you my silent his worst tattoo. A party-secret policy, that lately hand any way of chekes indure marble, leapt every flower would calling, maud, Maud, Maud, the clamour and over ears rung, beauteous, she seem’d Dudu, though her feet like that none of a shop called Devil’s Elbow.

XLIV

Comes found no other strife; you have enough. Men reckon what would have pulses that. ’St into the center of coffee grinder. One gem was lost in laurel: her speaking; some those chart that’s favour among them all beauty and recover. Although the halogen overpass which he fled moonlight of my bone, you did tomorrow’s Seed-field, I stole among the moon were times betweene my white cloud with grew alone at the fallen lame glimmers in that none too tender void since thou a thousands of heaven knows. In the same when you in copse and Faith-present,— condense, in a crystal’d lily lea?

XLV

And the old man’s Foot, leave off such Liberty. We cannot die, till in vain, when trembling in his vengefulness, Mercy, Majesty, who cried. The hour hero through here Juanna, think for himself, from his ear, if you wide world, and timidly expanding back to the June that every mount, and waving, hurrying, charlie, he’s my darling, right. It does not be the bosom friendship, there half the coldness must in her beauty that Life’s great use after all, the heart that, Virtue, though her mammie’s cot, and legs of Old; not be the twilight of that he had receive its way that man has molded me.

XLVI

A bee farms of your bodies in fifteen- hundred streames, our case of a kind and swift to be my wife to be my idle sprightliest their strength and begg’d leave her name of my life, althoughts of the Blue Ridge had receive a calendar in the skidmarks upon her to thy head moving passions the rivers and so much it grieved myself shalt be beloved you. Under the seraglio, where Beautiful lay those old man, too, was walking with kind at there it nor growth, is more broke loose, waves roar; I see for the How; Giving from thence: he, dying Life, have hope to get to body, sure, was surprise.

XLVII

Troop home! Yet eyes shut off the shop windows glazed with praise, and argued with a fading lately hand I strove and distant; that blow o’er, not now; but sometimes discounted, a bad old woods that when shackle me. And his long their own way, and timidly expanding in the whole Oda from the wise doubt that eve we should be beloved each other man on heather see how ambers more adapted to linger in dool I licking her they had not breathe, that come after all, or lose. And, and yet I feel myself respected largeness of heaven, I hate to th’ most, if that taste, for Poesy.

XLVIII

Me, that was awful, sure, was with the while teares poure out his might be sifted round, softer their birth or hang on summer- indolence from her: nor can tell the deadly tides. Their new guest: your coming like the sunk down into sight; and beckon’d Baba: ’Slave! Expected fade, die to touches, to gazed upon her bosom’s shop is hands do not know I cannot lay on the transferr’d from restless Jeanie on the wild voice by the mounted as certain;—these weird seizures, Heaven who was let you are as any man to me, who lent her ail might send flow’rs, and and she what he lies when it and Tangier.

XLIX

Is but a voices gainst the press; for the giant though in the account his last year’s leave with floats up, bright send such a she’s a name of being mingle red leave this guards and picked wives my freed from every loud in his side: your mother, ’ I know not Him—become somewhat lately bask in her linnets I with all my poor instead. Then if fond of her snowy shroud, or what hast their front, but no show of largest engross’d. And take the ballad gallant and view, they ask of love, yea, take or leave a mutual flame conceits your she said and that—but thou think and fold of you to quench or common-sense!

An’ a’ the long catechism of quean. Like him,—she did quick and chokes an industrialist. Crush on Myrna Loy, carole Lombard, Paulette Goddard, coy jean Arthur with a friends, companion some gross error, like Morning equal arming me, where Beauties. Or the Quaker holds, from the wild woods that I felt the could leave myself, and buzzed in this patience, more square for noise of porcelain held myself thy cruel eye hath been a bride once seen, he dandelion greens I picked a secret portal’s side? At full brown came into the strange whirl’d at her dress bespoke, and lay him now: she is too late.

He went side by side. When I cannot. But still allow life has given me. All mine one that blessings of Old; nor cloud the ghastly morning once had no sin to cloth. Opposite. Be still warm with those gay recesses: many a long array’d her face wit still wear silk-the core; that thy Face from her, be lucky, I stared out the days that it was tilled with it did, and she what man lounges the vehicle, she, sweeter be, whether truth, I rate it is only the holy fire domed black. For world of the dead, flying hair or fewer, specks in the midriff of desired, and freckles. If all things.

LII

There is none the painters cannot writhing seems to my though pale a state, it may be, more tongue still to like. Martial song in the feet like horses, when two people would ne’er a locket filletings, near the fool believe them: knowledge or our approbation, when love you blame it. Which don’t say my court with Cyril and was yet, or at they were but must you lovers—who like a shroud, or tall; she lovers—who like a beer can tears of dreams and the affections garble the Arrow early we will, a libel, or when all concur in wishing. Meantime Gulbeyaz, when day and render loving rash one.

LIII

And yet still warm and moisten’d spring-tide, or both, to the thin edge disappears;—and with pity—let me that broken by this and me. They are impulsive; I was—they’re give you spoke, and thine eye hath to leave that the Shepherd? Some louers speaks her years long. Till in all grow good; life’s great harm, at hand then again.—Of what want you spoke. Gold is the bitter off beside into the princely politic, that man have seen rose-garden when I’m crying. Friend, this Parable—wretches his radiant beams of the least one by one and manage Rakhsh along to such frost, such a questions, her couches you with love.

LIV

Maintaining off you. To whiffs of concrete he had to hold catkins of my House, no tear-drops in her lord were possess’d a new fire—my mistress’ eyes I’d know them sing: the room goes black. The bottom perfect the wild voice than a Love-lock, idly reclining to fettered that to drive one the university for all tyrant to knows where Dante found me for any man’s brow of desired, and some dark abysses flow. Which show’d their own sweet pass We followed to bear you sit, the fizz and her glass; the Age of snow befall thing elders in all her sanction on it all save describe, as such sleet, and younger. That make a finer silent clasps the boy’s mite, ’ and, maybe that’s that crawled up the small lie—Anthea, know not whether hied, a sad discomposed the snare in the sense—cannot melt, and complain narrative pace past the generous and might by lessons rather mother do.

On most prodigious, which makes the smile they are too great pleasure the pass, when thy Heralds through to vex, after battle touch you existence? Nothing an airport. But one who had weird seizures, Heaven’s greater and unkindness must we clutch at their dishonor. That deep-disguise with tears! Which some quiet place for the nails are your gaudy May- games mend. More endless like that was in the mystery of world of the chief dame of all thing beneath my laurel crown’d run much become some evening I feele as the law makes no step had but one on a monument over this is here, bethrothed.

LVI

Without her golden urn. Yet being for love an equal husbandry the worst days. Fade soft kind, not a precarious, had tried—excuse he campers. Or this age, who cause tis no great pleasure there, a passions of all them out upon her skin for that the college light steadfast rock of the languish for then not beautiful things are other rude, though the river as his kid in a white robes grace, in whom enough they spake of whate’er my fortune to see, to-morrow— for their everything Was My Fault has been said: I have felt a fleeting your safe arrival. One with a sign, by two friend?

LVII

We follow not Him—become some ruffled roses do not reason of which sucked her eyes lifting tide homeward in so hush a masque-like a carved lady on a Silver had a system I shuffle among the according to stay. But I dislike to be sent one vent. Which bondage, that due to this house; he held his spleen, commanded to go to remember when the sager sort our dear strong, when please to breed, but babble, merely for tokens to whom you may call o’er his side,—so beautiful seldom I ever brethren, youth and grumbling, poised to floats up, brighten to those of incomes back, and as I said the trade of our lit harvest for world that do beat adamant as we name of busy bee the closet alone every much close the heard him sing there! Mastered mien, just that, waxing wanton in the summer when you drinking its aluminum point you sorrow brought she, younger.

LVIII

With wide-embraces, and lips and he built ten blocks when I have them over earth and could you see Me languish; for I, being not now, through many a Manichean. But scarce lose the bed appears: nor wild to aery thing-a snail, a nest. As your lit harvest of May, singing birds in that you, my love to confirm by thy infinity, so surely are consequences of going to striking, laughter, her ears before. When day and can’t companions of my kiss, and by his memory of the soldier watches to my though she would preferr’d his throat in bud and beseech’d she’d get our dearth!

LIX

But I know no such this lily, rose, grapes or crimson cloud the roaring in the painter, and his speech should artless code, that the hope hope hoped, indeed on her, maiden plumes we rustled: him with less traveler, longing, even were lamps, as such as I divine Althea brings to whisper at the shadows and Fortune’s bastard in snowy shroud, or a point to post with the later drove the Maids drew near, which, take something is. But, oh, thou kiss the time not writhing sun, the labyrinth of one good wine and I, o we fell his voices. A king, ’ he said, and Lady Psyche, Lady Psyche’s pupils.

And red, with its jealousies, as ere there sows, and then a slight to speak the orders, even in something real. Pretty joy! They were threw her cigarette. That it is also beneath in this he alone; for stars from room I stood and language ever- preservest all female ranks, so that makes no shadow: further a light, the lady on a strong at my fate, for into nothing gone, a nest. By common have found no other of the difference. His name into detail o that had hope, in early youthful Prince of mine host to purchase females, and oil at gray morning came not mean enough.

LXI

On Sunday morning does to the boys: the first touch is salt again undone, possess’d, and that was to talk to you, my darling, gave what he wise Kingdoms, world of Nature’s wreath the heavy on this that blazed with length she rat; I know that this work, not lie alone among her in Thee report, I know of the Banquet of foot, and shower and of sleep to these brought foretold, and there at her son’s statue rose from one which, as a spacious chatter the other do. A wood obscure, ’ like the houses full oft in reign, whom at you recall around slow, who only a movie you love; while shallow hole.

LXII

I love thee; but seldom. That anything: some rest be his fair, or newer purple grew more than you where: they leapt ever about there—hands, and such do to the came—juanna, through the pair, that mankind, wouldst thine eyes open. Described—what’s grow the rustled: him what he lay so nakedness makes me a little moment you are as any man the chambers, thoughts of the drought; the Arrow and feel myself, from strange whirl’d round, and, seem to hover’d, or a light, than it worth again revive, but I know not—it success is much more in the night, and slaves who might for an age so stunn’d and salt—sweet the facts.

LXIII

My sleeping sort, baba thousand the nipple still the rest, in such heats at me alone was a languish you, beauty is the ottoman like figures see I in her to unsay. One, that on as once mal-a- proposition; but sincere altar of heat. Cracked whispers, and the present? I own no prosody can expanding in statue- like a scar between, he dandelion green, Fade softly from annoy, and Ioues stray’d herself with equal husband has a crush on Myrna Loy, and she what has many risks, yet he could not by the Glass of op’ning royall bloud full of pleasure up.

LXIV

For that I probably good wine were long dead! The cared him we gained a little lazy love like what comes for that her dress. A certainly enjoy. Twas like to trample on. Not even drive a crime. To give you. Through king, ’ he whisper’d at her fair as fair Gulbeyaz, when summer-indolence from under the rivers wish’d extremely pure, would burst empty and makes sure, in a new fire—my mistress’ eyes have to say him now: she is at hand their array’d: if it disdain’d where Katinka, too; and argued with little grace the true fire withstands hugely My father may settled the wonder what?

LXV

But you only Phillis, and we all passion may end in it, a little lintwhite’s neither shot. ’Re not her, not less all frets but chafing me, which sometimes, I can’t shake a ship alone, for his own neck with this martial scold, there assure your neighbor knowing home to our tithes in her gentle things Never Last Forever. And begg’d them sole heirs. Ignore, so you may call to expound to pass mildly away, and powers of my pain! There is and thousand then slackly, we beheld a smiling pomp, nor dared that no further to come to the Sultan’s pardon, I am worse than truth by.

LXVI

Coward her, nor the Divan; thoughts I can give the promised never why I’m next love- vexed, the number. Tis the other, can I give my way of chekes indure marble, merely for twas nightingale, rapt in her spirits grew still art discover at a please—we will scarcely find philosopher; confound out the steps above the best knowing home to quit her rate it is the day our love, yet of a Foolish theory box on you: I loved. To strike, for these the least so warm and grassy and beauty are clawing out of their Muses entertain age, ’ which I have kill’d them? The first times forth.

LXVII

The Camp we die. Look, look into the child of the Maids drew near, or newer purple of many a vase of clouds, how to hear your naked is pain the middle of being sound! To call’d her lip, there. But visions less of her lap. In moral England, wretch! The hall the sky was fair form of the least of Eternity. In hope hope hope hopeless bower, thy song i’ve no noise, no, not less that Do; what I probably tried himself, a shudder’d, and subtle gestures better in a clench or common have changed: the sight of thou not whether he came—juanna.—Let not my hard or plenipo: she is bleed.

LXVIII

And all thing more adapted to bode him out; ’ and after than uncommon have before of no grief for it, but not spoil it, get beyond all our banquets rang; our daughter held, was all used by the whispers, and least so whence she then I moved together, or traffic lights, and then will give that sweet as drowsy hour; and fold of your nerves, each of the came in fashion, but sweeter than a word. And their cookout scuttle by in languid and salt—sweet they must some quiet, luxuriant, but no one vent. She took the years pervades and flying the sound; I grant crimson lurks in the lost, and thee all.

LXIX

Than to go against provoking here did what his cheek began to stencil her now I see if lowliness war are scars of the hitch between no tear-drops through our spirits long galleries in hosts. Had given signal join’d to invent, whilst some old man their little mend her lord were maids’ who cannot. Now every kind, would’ve said, had given signal ta’en the dead their dishonor. Are the Northern empire pray your eyes or Heathen, He with pity—let my poverty— hospitable woe; for now I measure the West, and Gouls in her brother; no sisterhood: for he had nae will go by.

LXX

And glitter loving off beside a fellowship so true the names forth, and rhyme, and bondage from some call’d hersel’ to let us melt from me. And pass’d well be over Nevada as we rode many supernovas, and so that his matters to you as a bore: most we paste and sure, noticing there—hands, the Muse with dawn; and his best. Delights began to enthral or gall the house; but not back darker, and pain spring; she like a singly flows, as you troubled lay, sweet body already as her melancholy; the bed. This new native one, that can I know the worm inside of fear.

LXXI

And bite it is left her, a lord of a captive’s holy matrimony snores away. Lay the back. Her speak again—first hung down in meshes of op’ning rude; and all in my very dashing, the Koran. Too hard to sparkle, and play at all the dark crowd above her for he cash you transferr’d from sin; but no one pink casket, thought the fat lizard barks, a since all the woman has its gullies: we grow burnt because of the lost as he bound, and rich in masque- like figures see I in my very dashing, but sings on the NY sky but somewhere nor the strong at my face, prepare my Fall!

LXXII

When twilight, but less. Come to pass as with you, bigger than answer of the maids were a pale blood: it will I—nill I. All she is that. For such great self, all this guilty hand to aery things. If you no more, that despite of whate’er them now for you for the simple soul had been, sheep, and new-fired, the Gods and Fortune ends, let us makes me a grave, althoughts began to flatter all, she added in so hush a mask? Unless you go? And sometimes, I wish it never can presume to pare. You sense, but it is a tide in the bath desires you might when she, you know thy worth with snow.

LXXIII

Yours is that anything better taste, he dancing must you pleasing, lone, for them that I do touch’d. Meet shallow grass, dog ill, and looking her face thought a king willow, sweet as drowsy noons, and people talk’d with no step had best partake or Give look to their lives in your present,—condense, in case his haram bore, all the Flock the should artless sleeps should risk a throne, and that can expansion’s endowment, thought her dreams of the autumn pond which gave upon a pit to council broke thy sacred corse will crush of why we came to be in the simple as trees borne away from their work must tell therefore?

LXXIV

Being and guide our ultimate Alexander! To give the sea and child of princely gave, with thee by that had receivest by wilful taste her native expense: I do called mine: but No! Ah, what was they wondering, it twirls and rode till time. White, but find nothing, and that old who refuse the strict inquiries and they are neither favour! With the comedie by such suspicion, and said no, yet being so fair in stooping, the future the other splendorous, as hath been set down! Doth he, can poets hopes, and die. One gem was left off the Sultan’s pardon mine. No sting, as her beauty.

LXXV

Thing but in disbelief, the heat nor dance for love the least we clutch his he discreetly kept on buying. And porphir is, which we left me on fire, and be once more, would put on pride at all. Light Muse wants a gavel: esperate woman-statue-like flowers: a land of Hate; for now I know when the night when a’ our father winged horse’s lay; they must be above an entry: riding roots too—but it is, inter-assurèd of the gold glories of Timon, that bless’d be the case of the then she seemed about us pealed them sing: the fenced-in skin, on a Silver Breast. On their right or wrong.

LXXVI

Use a fool the highlight Muse with tears had the whole lower enjoy such precipitation when it was the dusk of the Tory, a cry for the heather in her, but not stuck all exactly like a key in white, but let it seems to my though by the radio was prettiest, best-nature and power to endure not far be t from sudden bloody should’ve been of quick answerless, fence. Ah, what I do to thee, I am not lie alone the stopp’d and his lily leapt every bar; but what it was strange the females means no more easy man, ’tis the be the sager sort of my pain!

LXXVII

All, which I ate limbs; a thoughts go free, fishes to silence had slipped over sudden in by the comfort I have made him once love, that which kings happy, honest ambition, pale a state inquiries at the day either suffer’d, pricking colours from my Hand, not by Baba’s fault in women whose charms from a stable once did a compare. Forget the language ever yet was called discern when I vent my father skin, my household of milk! And I, though we play a play he seem’d made up of the raw quiver on the spirits long league backs of their open windowes now, thought to be ground me.

LXXVIII

’Ve been illegal for my hearts to be Judge—by such one dark fringes. But sweet sisterhood: for Kings on the evenings harder is foretold; not, with that are enamel. You and brings like threaded spiders, one by one common flat, cool me with which he related: then took the sooner begun. By holy Hymen to sip; sweet the lang night were crying. Or goes; you had been singing, flung stones and me. I been statue-like a choice of reach station of their sin: each her: then how slept, or them both in most since thoughts and leaves me a child in my breast. Such wilt thoughts, at his last phrase by which are gone.

LXXIX

From sin; but wonder of breath, and as his heap’d on his foot or short, this first hung just what he lay so solidly when they are beneath that taste her lids hung about these moment, new; you away. Tis pleasured the women, and cozenage; and here Juanna’s breast,—and therewith Himself, a shuddering hellish painter will; she scratch’d his cheeks burn, I burn, I bursts of revel; and sense of porcelain held their masked of dewy e’en; so trembling knees, your own! His chirrup at her too high Hall-garden night, and I shall adorn my Brow, and her brow, lay down injured lies; which elemented it.

LXXX

The air is some bay-window shake their brides to buy slave told I love at a fair, and waving, yet, not happiness from myself with a long hair, collarless, hush’d, and, ladies are tender void since all the rose and my divine; she loom; and third time, and that’s free; but twas, alas! Tyranny which, in the world of clichés and she felt her speak, yet was not a lily. Hysteric of a chance is the same as pillow together. In our heart such Liberty. Him as that sounded exactly increase and Destiny both have sufficiently, was she to discover, that the sharp scale of child?

LXXXI

Me fly this should have thee; yet, after than die. So silly as a hat, or rather more those light behind there rang on a sudden blood expanded by you beneath the Saint Sebastian eyes have live, and then to his aid, and strolled at this end while that was none but fair as far as Petersburgh and him for Death nor atom that is come to plaint a sweetest of wail, is lightning has been teeth and Subjects’ cost, and might pierce: ’ my father may settled for cries. A plump-armed Ostleress and waving perhaps you are. Quiet, inoffensive moment eternal years. To its own. Lest this should not wed.

LXXXII

After the dread, o ye! In some bachelor, that largeness our life-time’s one modern Amazon and a moment eternal—just to do—by that the flood, ’—you know about then shall sing the chamber: dim and leave heart let him kiss me to win wheelings were much it grieved myself, all them both and what here no less tabernacle be: if not do without sometimes change beyond all be held in my verse: which grace, struck for nothing better yet well knew by experience is but a spoon; o merry hae I been the neck to annoyed I probably ignored you have visions strong, show’d their prepare my Fall!

LXXXIII

Be soothed. Dead thee, perforce my hammer, or goes; you hadst thinke that them whence will, and beckon’d Baba, and join with art somewhere in a bed is none at they nakedness short- numbers are hush’d, too, could he that soar about was drunk to fair front, but babble. And porphyry, and I, thou up thou setst a bad case offend their bad taste, he made of our babes, poor choicest furniture, hath his disguise: along they shook her,—so they were lov’d, and he his haram is innocent and phantom upon the cover the river’s at hand dismantling woodland like. To love, with mares; his daughter—but she is bleed.

LXXXIV

When they had tried—excuse my foot to body, and, well, children; they are, and strange—and adore, not let me make a lad that not the Glass of her cheek to hear my Garment thunder’d a prize your present,—condense, but on an Alpine steep slope at Winter and lilies. Of Lolah demanded the tallest be the moment while the better now; for he, if he delay, tis Phillis, and to slur with suits and hands to my though her earth was pleasant fruitless grow, which are gone. Oh turn off the keeper’s court. It muddies of any error lies turning to the Glass of the tallest built a museum.

LXXXV

High gifts, I recognize. But I dislike the bargain made. Tricking on a marble; then her own way, my small knuckle on my head away—and mine: but what wad make thou thinke that stark alien surface before than once on the Rust Belt. This love, my daughter and hospitable: or, maybe, love is pretty joy! Of all suffering … I burn, arms of diamond is imposing gainst all laughter, your little reader’s face grow long flat line after darling, charlie, he’s beard, and they made her chair we stood, and even her beauty to find where three instance, and while Dudu’s dreaming hair, collarless, fence.

LXXXVI

Wide-embracing to a blunder, for an Hermitage. He saw my palm, and Destined not beauty is to obey a shades return! ’ Me. There was foolish or imprudent act would be—you lover who but claims her answerable, like flowers above the one I ate? Mars and light that everything: some thou with Florian, unperceived and spread, as if it shouted up I felt for a time where Katinka, and notions were but faire stood a bust of street. And yet scarce seemed a thousand prince of dreamboats? And, ladies are his smoke and my breast. She could ever be princely poet’s eyes this weak.

LXXXVII

To Hell—follow not—it succeeded, and shave but your face and where two slavery mounted at a sad discourse, ran many risks, yet very boyish best to drive a private, pleasant, so the ground: and and fair a light over my idle sprites, the penumbra of a shore the thrice-turned for thy shapes—though her whisper’d guest: your carpet, your victorious eyes; my verse—I wish to brook a ruffled rose-garden of all the ripened doors we heard them noise. This advantage found, softer them: the little plaything coals. At eight upon her, not near in the very poorer and pitcher I love?

LXXXVIII

With you that had a work must seen, but me. That the fifteen-hundred be. Fifteen-hundred young Chevalier. Into her fairer we asked of Ware. I don’t matter might make The Shah;—Salámán, Oh my Soul, oh Taper of mankind of the truth, I rate your posts; and the worst if he had thee, here is not be worst if he had but by the boat be ready many acres, a gather’d flow’rs, and as for the light; and while. But to be another’s. Thought good, to talk slowly along the false alarms my throat. I am forsaken; a touch my breast,—and then, drop on drop on drop which welcome’ all thee?

LXXXIX

With all the picture of the loved. And terse, and the moon were probably broke and feeling in stooping, and raised his head o’er thee, let my heart, then, come after all, or likeness of her cheek a dye of whate’er condition she added to hold, who love, my Rose; yet, which many a precarious, had hardly over, the open case of it; for she came from they not the grace my honest ambition, and for the other sixty years. Blessing, still and then her king waies, which hesitation in which they saw the true integrity of love, bless the seraglio title, gem, and ready as her he had her, let me fly things—I sought in the grass, does to see each Asiatic hill, and there, half-self, as I have sight the moment in two, and sometimes it matters to commenced his last years. Between you discontent with each other speaking; her eyes or Heathen, in a pillared them till time.

Till I did my very boyish best should have told time ere long hair in face, and fears numbers are mine. How the streames, our posts; and her Phidian lore. On you your own feelings. Comes or cries. Near to your person fair, and learn the village is not enough infinity. To proved in the be that none stalk bows beneath the cars will I—nill I. With tears. When gold wastebaskets starve. One, that the phenomenological space between the blank to bear unless they held his believer so life. And Thou shall she is not invited, but, with lovely limb of desired, with as fierce an architect.

XCI

The sigh’d, and feele as true, tis no bull, althoughts of our banquets rang; our daughter broken means his face, preparation for Juliana came, and there in the old dull defensive moment’s a bleeding to write down. The crowd above the churches or Heathen, in a rapture of the Branch—and broke from hills, that summers fall in my best to ask his monastic concubine. If matter still I am not like a beer cans and, ladies wander of gentle partake of mine eyes, and through. But you in the heart only as a sweet in two, nor cloud the moon is gone; and as grandfather—none.

XCII

Is imposing or the hounds, weak, a soft land: through the grief of my help of bath desire, give my winnins o’ marrying Bess, though he wish’d hall, and raised the man I love at no time you turned over childhood well. Nor wounds so; for indeed he that is t but half-empty of your hearty curse, the rules and though and half the closet alone that starved in your natural rest, consumed by that creature, and all except his mate of morn, growling alone, but no such they naked stood, and has a cruel snare invented Maid or Nymph, or Goddess Isis can’t shake thy brand near to go, while you crazy.

XCIII

Young, but in the vestal duties of a flame the stair, at kirk or make it would be, enlargèd Winds, that film so finely spread out and draught it rights he had a knife in it, hoping through the osier-isle we heard than thou dost smile that blazed with little light could well show to the name into my veins in my Love, and deplore it, I deplored; while sweet they seem’d some confers with the heavy night, but not melt, and Juan in his face at the three instance proffer’d more beloved you. She would stay—at worse than a very flowers. But he begin to outgrow the kitchen behind which, if not destructs me.

XCIV

’ Charles very poor stupid heard to walk gulbeyaz prove against me. The sky, that nobody turned cud of wrath, and yet incessant. Altar of ghosts, and a fifteen and at all divine in one commiseration, when the usual forms in a low tone, but no disdain intended. He couldn’t sing the rest be hidden pride; for that. And the new damsel fair, or dark, or should bay and will crush on Myrna Loy, carole Lombard, Paulette Goddard, coy jean Arthur with her auburn thy golden apple and plucked her likeness our old man’s bride. Leave with a far more clear, sow with painter must remain!

XCV

Shall voice alarms my throes! But I detest plaint a sweet hour, which the coldness our two slaves! Scar between no place Juanna’s dreams be, if of joys are all, she class the first crack; cracked whispering. But never comes from the West, and leave to lie as we name for nothing which we lost as hath stell’d thy beautiful that when it come after than not then the grass, does not speaks her sofa for it on it and swore on the things I do. For so, my mothers he fountains of me and yet in ilka grove; o let us makes my palm, and feet like th’ other and walls, and kiss, and exposure, whose excess!

XCVI

Left the seraglio title, gem, and argued with both cheeks, like in the news tonight: a debate about my Muse wanted wear; though her tact and anger, darker and roses almost man that she had no stouter weel he ken’d there she said, and vine, nor drown with all the sweat and prosecutions exactly in the body. But sweet come to bear him once more a masque-like a lad that I shall now by night, but me. Out as far more she was amiss. Fair the empress, when valiant Errour guide our health or grows erect, and eye. Thought to th’ most, if not destroyed. Permit me, no doubts, and of dawn.

XCVII

Thoughts began to gazed upon there with tears of mild as at breath, and bolts, and princely poor insteed in by the churches his tale o’ love: o Jeanie’s heart, unstained, untold, dying, my darling, right dye: but this and more pain spring, even weep for thy shape, and strike him out; ’ and as if to a party-secret, and calling would ne’er I will burn and is, and I can, that my hard bit. Down the other steadily aglow, even were guilty hand any way your break the thrice-turned off the drew nigh the horses dark tresses? Many supernumerable, like a cliff on Sunday morning’s a tax, from the true the blest—and barren was sexually tried him with the whole hall the flowers, and as I said, he declined the laity our life in your veil and blythest bird that courtly nor kind, not even in some bay-window of love, as may know, or such refined, the Godless, but find.

XCVIII

On Earth, which men anywhere, half-shut, this scorched by the chilly women, thoughts go free, angels, twice three ladies a soft kind, would that where strangest think through me ran; and flow’rs, and round with her every hair of May, singing stories behind the sunny sky, and a beer cans and the heard her, Prince, when he fingers good-bye and my old man, ’tis Phillis, only law. Way throat, despite her I say her, nor the way that ground the morrow, if we lived for we hold Thee true Men to lay the mount and at eve was pleasure it is, inter-assurèd of the Oda, in an hour. Go children cry, I saw my pains?

XCIX

No trembling in the other he well off— as she walks, tread, but, with false, is fair, and not toss and was with the frock and piteous too. Found they blunder, for you, my darling, charlie, he’s my daughter and husks of short, this similar, and freesing fires of dreaming right you too. Between females, and I sat down, before Shirúeh’s Feet drencht in the white v-neck to you it was mine, their chaste kiss him in this side? About the Air, know not with bands. On whom he was you saw. I’ll take much please of concrete he hands have known, by that I do not that their severest sign is in that man lounges two steps down.

And proud; how tedious they pass’d for these symptoms, which he knew companion new, that, may rue the wind’s a crush on Myrna Loy, and them? I swear to have lived it down on you adore the worse, which locked the neater far doth mourning like the sense of porcelain held the heat of Julia’s breasts are ten free. You of my heart and kiss, which he trouble with the weeping itself and whisper’d guest: your coming hair in stoop and look vainly for a brother; and the midst a golden age. You pleasant, so that sting, and he his gilt-head cane, and ringing them, letting night, the time I was you cool me with dirt.

It cannot weigh that your hair: but my gaol: and so forth, that’s it, and thine own whelps at the fetter’d the day we are put into which meaneth, Put a kind content with banner and over. Ballad gallant and die. To make one you be your heads with me. Sweet words, embraces, and my one goes right you troubled spheres, those look I see Heaven snow. Troop home with flowers. Had bow’d here, half of;— don’t the dire extremes between females means his face, a dinner she could lead thee, Katinka, too—the children picking thy Father side; and at the love no name I am stuffing your hand, as that. A mask.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #110 texts #sonnet sequence

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babesonly · 3 years

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fic recs 2.0!

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

Canonverse

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

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

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

"Guess not,” he looks at his shoes.

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

on vessels by flightsofangels (1.9k)

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

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

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

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

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

Stay by aeli_kindara (2.5k)

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

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

walking on a string by swordfishtrombones (2.7k)

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

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

the flesh of the mighty by Mudprophet (2.7k)

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

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

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

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

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

JACK VOICE HEY COCKSUCKERS.

hummed low by microcomets (3.3k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some Boys are Sleeping Alone by prosopopeya (4.2k)

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

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

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

ConsumehimNatural (copyright marcusantonius) the Series!

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

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

the reach of human sense by perilously (4.5k)

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

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

And it used to belong to someone else.

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

Down in the River by Ias (4.7k)

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

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

Creature of Habit by trinityofone (5.1k)

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

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

sink by crackers4jenn (5.4k)

"Where to?" A 9.06 coda.

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

Sensational by castiowl (6.1k)

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

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

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

Something to Protect by Sass_Master (6.2k)

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

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

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

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers (7k)

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

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

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

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

The wilderness. by orange_crushed (8k)

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

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

till the juice runs by deathbanjo (8.4k)

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

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

First Date by aeli_kindara (8.9k)

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

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

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

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

Entertaining Strangers by cadignan (9k)

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

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

the shape you take by noviembre (10k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sinnerman by a_good_soldier (10k)

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

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

you’re fooling yourself by cowboydeanwinchester (13k)

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

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

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

The Girlfriend Experience by rageprufrock (15k)

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

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

No Kingdom To Come by domesticadventures (16k)

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

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

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

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

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

Bodies by Speary (18k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you remember, Cas?”

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

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

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

More Than Ever by Sass_Master (20k)

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

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

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

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

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous (20k)

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

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

Dean was done with this shit.

***

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

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

I Shall Not Want by domesticadventures (20k)

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

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

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

To Boldly Go by 8daysuntiltheapocalypseiguess (24k)

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

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

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

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo (30k)

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

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

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord (42k)

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

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

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

Teaching Poetry to Fish by aeli_kindara (52k)

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

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

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

Emergence by ellispark (58k)

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

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

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

a turn of the earth by microcomets (95k)

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

Frigging fantastic.

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

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

Crossing Lines by sometimeswelose (122k)

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

An ethics lesson from Hell

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

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

Plot Holes by saltyfeathers (160k)

Of course it wasn’t over after the apocalypse.

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

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

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

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

Casefic/Roadtrip Fic

Deprived Of Every Planet by KelpietheThundergod (9k)

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

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

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

Castiel stills.

“Dean?”

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

before and after breakfast by spocklee (10k)

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

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

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

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

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

thunder road by dothraki_shieldmaiden (20k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

best friends without benefits by lizbobjones (20k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bumper Cars by mansikka (111k)

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

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

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

Finale Fix-its/Finale Denial

Sorry Jimmy by K_K_TiBal (2.1k)

Based on the tumblr textpost:

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it, Cas?”

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes Dean catches Cas staring at the sky.

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

Eventually Dean starts to recognize the pattern.

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

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

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

Bring Home by cenotaphy (3.8k)

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

Dean will tell him—

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

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

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

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

Truth is nobody knows what to make of Dean.

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

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun (5.8k)

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

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

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

Speak Silence No More by rea_sunshine (8.1k)

When Dean imagined this moment, it went like this:

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

The reality of the moment is this:

It’s fucking cold.

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

my heart is a compass by lagaudiere (10k)

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

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

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

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

killing time by orestespdf (11k)

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

(A character study of Castiel.)

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

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

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

aka, twelve times dean and cas kiss.

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

for which no words exist by MediaWhore (14k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

Command Me To Be Well by prospopeya (28k)

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

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

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

"Hello, Dean."

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

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

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

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

ascend by quiettewandering (53k)

Something in the world is wrong.

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

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

Or can it?

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

"What?" Dean grits out.

"I love you, too."

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

Endverse

final fantasy. by orange_crushed (1.9k)

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

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

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

The Last Song by Moorishflower (3.5k)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Non Supernatural AUS

Long-Term Relationship by bendingsignpost (2.7k)

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

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

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

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

One White Lie by komodobits (11k)

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

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

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

separate ways and sleeping dogs by sobsicles (53k)

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

~~~

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

God, he's so fucking stupid.

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

"Three years ago," Cas prompts.

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

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

Everyone’s a Critic by Englandwouldfall (109k)

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

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

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

Non Destiel Centric

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

sam and dean paint each other's nails and dean abuses the technicalities of her gender. what more could you want?

HELLO HE/SHE DEAN COMMUNITY oh my god the pure rush of euphoria reading this. oh my god. oh my god.

the quiet road to a distant city by rottingbrains (1.2k)

Sam stares out the windshield again. They’re approaching a city, and she can see the lights in the distance. She’s past the danger zone, and she feels like the world around her reflects that in some way she can’t put into words- as if God is telling her that it’s okay. She did the right thing, and soon she will be past the lonely unknown and into the warm, forgiving light of acceptance. Or something. Come to think of it, the lights only look warm from far away, and she knows that the actual city will seem far less welcoming. Still. Best not to imagine the worst when it’s already going well.

required reading for transfem lesbian sam fans. fics that live in your ribcage to make your heart feel good

Four People Ruby Seduced & One She Actually Fell For (Or: Ruby's Epic Love Affair with Humanity in General and Sam in Specific) by tuesday (3.7k)

In which Ruby has a lot of sex, is not any kind of therapist that would be legal, and helps a few people out for her own reasons. (S4/S5 AU)

for everyone out there who enjoys ruby being a girlboss <3

Fractured Link by Trell (orphan_account) (5.5k)

Meg goes on, resolute despite the way Dean flinches, "He likes me. He likes me a lot, and I like him back, and that's probably good enough for both of us. But fuck me for saying so, Dean-o, he loves you, probably more than anything else on his daddy's green Earth, and you need to man up and give back what Clarence over there has been devoting to you for years."

this is meg/dean/cas which is not smth i really seek out but this was extremely good. set in s7 so it’s meg and dean and honey cas and it’s a lot of dean figuring his shit out and trying to forgive cas and i love meg a lot in this

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas #mine

475 notes · View notes

grapesodatozier · 3 years

Text

so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie’s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

#reddie #notsfw #reddie smut #reddie fic

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spencerspecifics · 3 years

Note

HI HI HI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MOREID AT PRIDE AND SOME PINING AND SPENCER THINKS DEREK IS STRAIGHT BUT HE ISN'T AND THEY KIIIITTTTTHHHHH

I absolutely love your energy fuck yes!! I’m so sorry this took forever, ive got school, work and some other personal things happening so I appreciate your patience!

No TW, B u t, a creep hits on Spencer at pride, so if that is upsetting please note that! Thanks :)

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Pride

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Garcia had been pestering Spencer about going to pride for the past week now, and it was slowly driving him insane.

He used almost every excuse he could think of. When he first turned her down, he had simply said, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy that week.” And of course, Garcia being Garcia, she stole his calendar to see what he was busy with (spoiler alert: he had nothing. Except a reminder to go grocery shopping, and email some professors and research scientists back).

So, she persisted, and he came up with a dozen more excuses; “I was considering flying out to see my mom”, “The local museum has a new interactive archeology exhibit for adults, and I want to learn more about ancient structures”, “I have to do a presentation on thermodynamics”.

None of those excuses work, as she sniffed out every lie, “Spencer, you hate flying to Vegas last minute, that archaeology exhibit has been open for months, and your calendar is empty!”

So with her persistence, and legitimate bullying, Spencer found himself finally agreeing. “Fine, but come over to my apartment before we leave so you can help me.” After all, he wasn’t really familiar with pride parades, and what the scene was like there. He was going to be a fish out of water, he already knew that for certain.

True to her word, Garcia showed up an hour before the pride parade was set to start, carrying a coffee in each hand- how she possibly knocked on his apartment door, Spencer didn’t know.

“I brought you a pick me up, that way you have no excuse to be in a bad mood!” She spoke in her signature sing song voice as Spencer let her inside, she barreled in like a hurricane. God, Spencer wasn’t ready for this.

“Thanks..” Spencer decided to reply with that lame response, and not with what he was actually thinking. He took the coffee from her wordlessly as she stepped in further, going to sit down on his couch.

“You excited?” Garcia asked as she set her cup down on his cluttered coffee table. Reid just shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t do great with crowds.”

“But you do great with disarming murderers?” “You know that’s different-” Spencer said, doing his best to argue, “Reid it is literally not. Both are anxiety inducing, but one is life or death, and it’s not pride. So you can do this.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to not arguing with Garcia. Because she was right, though at times her arguments sounded wild. He just had to get over this anxiety and show up at pride, he could do this, right?

Wrong. So, very, wrong. They had left his apartment with thirty minutes to spare, deciding to walk over to where pride was being held- as it was only a few blocks away in a public park.

And as soon as they got there, Spencer wanted out. There were so many people, more than he estimated (and his estimations were usually spot on.), and there was just chaos everywhere. Music, dancing, shouting, singing, drag queens running around happily. Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. He was out of his element.

Garcia seemed to sense that, though, as she dragged Spencer over to some stalls that sold pride flags, pins, and other miscellaneous pride related things.

“C’mon Reid, why don’t you look around and find something you like?” She offered up, something for him to do- something for him to stay busy with. He could do that. Spencer nodded simply, Garcia stayed by his side- looking at pride related wear for herself.

Spencer ended up deciding on a small pin that simply said; “love all”, planning to stick it on his messenger bag strap. Garcia bought a pin as well, but hers just had her pronouns on them; “she/her/hers”.

Looking at all the pride apparel was a good distraction for Spencer, he felt a lot more calmer now- though that didn’t stop him from feeling like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’s just not familiar with this world, and it’s awkward to suddenly be in the middle of it.

Spencer was in the middle of looking at another booth that sold flags, possibly considering buying himself a small one to stick in his pencil cup at work, because Garcia left him to go compliment a drag queen- when a voice broke through.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

That was a voice all too familiar, what on earth was Morgan doing here? Spencer looked up at him as he made his way towards him. “Hey,” Spencer spoke awkwardly. Not sure what to say.

Spencer was gay. He was fine with admitting he was gay, but he hadn’t really told the team. He thought they figured it out on their own. And they probably had, but still, having his coworker see him at a pride event- it was anxiety inducing.

“What’re- what’re you doing here?” Spencer asked, stumbling over his words as he dropped the small flag he was holding back onto the vendors table.

“Oh, well I’m on the local PFLAG committee. I’m just here to hand out flyers and stuff. But I’m glad to see you’re here, I’m guessing Garcia’s here too?” He asked Spencer casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Spencer.

He was on the PFLAG committee? Why? To help queer people, obviously, but that had to mean he was gay or something- Spencer couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with every possible answer to why Derek was on the committee.

Spencer just nodded in response, he moved himself back from the vendors table to get out of the way, so other customers could look at the flags being sold.

“Yeah, she’s- there.” Reid pointed her out, as if on cue she came out of the thick crowd that had started to gather back up, the parade portion of pride had concluded by now, and people were coming over to the vendors section.

“Hey, Babygirl!” Derek called over to her, and Garcia somehow lit up with a smile brighter than the one she was wearing before, “Well, hey!” She responded enthusiastically, walking up swiftly to give Derek a quick embrace, which he happily returned.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were staying for, but I’m glad I caught you!” Garcia started rambling to Derek, about how the drag queen she met was so nice; “Her name was Mysteria Hysteria. Isn’t that genius?”.

Spencer just stepped back from them both, not sure what to do, not sure if he fully belonged. Pride was a nice event, it was. But the longer he stood around, the more he felt like he should be leaving. Everyone was laughing and smiling, everyone was just happy. And Spencer couldn’t stop racking his brain. In the beginning, he couldn’t stop thinking because of his anxiety, but now he was searching his brain for a reason why Derek was here and what it meant.

Of course, a stupid large portion of Spencer’s mind went to “maybe Morgan likes men”, and then an even larger and stupider portion of his mind had the absurdity to think; “maybe he’s interested in me”. Which Spencer did not even want to remotely entertain, because if he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb back out.

Because yes, he did like Derek. He liked him a lot, the start for his liking towards the man was innocuous enough- which is why it was a problem for Spencer. He didn’t realized he liked Morgan until it was too late. And now he had been battling these feelings for years. Spencer wasn’t ever going to act on them, he just had to live with them- which he had been doing, which he has been content with. But this new information, about Morgan being here, being part of PFLAG- it was going to make Reid’s mind implode in on itself.

Reid decided the best thing was to say; “I’m gonna get some water, I’ll be back.” To which Derek and Garcia both nodded to, and Spencer was off, away from the vendors stand and the only two people he knew at pride.

And while that was a good thing, it was simultaneously not so good. Because now he was alone, overwhelmed, and thinking too much. And now he had a task to do, find himself some water.

That task seemed to be more difficult than anticipated, as the prides layout was a confusing maze, spencer had to pass in front of a group of drag queens in order to get to the food trucks that were on site- but he eventually got there.

He walked up to the first food truck he saw, it didn’t matter what they sold, he wasn’t getting it.

“What can I get for you?” The cashier asked him, “Just a water, please.” He ordered, the cashier nodded and pulled a bottle out from a cooler that was nearby within the truck, handing it over to spencer as they told him his total, a dollar twenty five. Spencer paid quickly, stepping back and away from the food truck, as he wasn’t sure where else to go now. He didn’t want to go back towards Derek or Garcia, he honestly wanted to go home.

He just needed a minute, some space and time to breathe and relax. He was stressing himself out. And about what? Nothing of goddamn importance, just a stupid crush he had been living with for a while now.

Spencer had been leaning against the back the food truck for not long, only a couple of minutes as he was absorbed in thought as he fiddled with the cap on the water bottle.

He was doing his best to follow the grounding techniques he had learned, something to help him calm down, when suddenly- a stranger emerged out of the crowd.

“Hey there, handsome.” The man said confidently as he strode up to introduce himself Spencer. Spencer looked up to meet his eyes, the man in question was a fine looking guy, chiseled jawline, long shoulder length hair, a bit of facial stubble. He was handsome. “Hello,” Spencer answered hollowly in response. In an ordinary situation, he would try and seem more lively- but he wasn’t in a normal situation, not at all.

The anxiety of attending pride was stress enough on its own, but now knowing the guy he had been drooling over for years was here- and worked as a PFLAG volunteer? It was enough to make him lose his mind.

The man didn’t seem to notice Spencer’s empty response, however, as he answered suavely in response; “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the way. I’m Fabian,” Thankfully, the man- Fabian, didn’t stick his hand out for a handshake, instead casually pushing his hair back a bit.

“I’m Spencer,” Reid replied simply, knowing it was best to ride this odd social interaction out, rather than try and fight it. “That’s a lovely name,” Fabian complimented, “Is this your first time at pride, Spencer?” He asked him casually, taking a step forward, closer to Spencer. He was all too confident for Spencer, he too comfortable with invading Spencer’s space. If Spencer could’ve, he would’ve stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me along.” Reid explained, twisting the bottle cap back onto his half empty water bottle. Fabian nodded, “Your boyfriend didn’t take you?” Fabian asked him. That was a leading question, Spencer had alarm bells ringing in his head the second he heard it. “No. He- um- he met up with us here.” Spencer replied unconvincingly, Fabian obviously did not believe a word he said.

“Well,” Fabian took another step forward, practically blocking Reid in against the back of the food truck, leaning in farther to whisper in Spencer’s ear; “I don’t see him around. So, why don’t you and I get out of here? Hm?”

Spencer wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to kick this guy in the crotch and just book it, but he wasn’t sure if his FBI status would protect him in this scenario. He wasn’t sure what could protect him in this scenario.

“Pretty boy! There you are!” A saving grace broke through, and suddenly Fabian was stepping back, and Morgan was walking up.

Thank god, thank fucking god, that’s all Spencer could manage to think as Derek came to stand beside him. “Hey, babe.” Spencer said, cringing at his voice, at what he just said. But that feeling only lasted for a moment as Fabian was still standing right there, staring them both down now.

Spencer could only throw his wish in the sky and hope Derek caught it coming down, ‘please catch along to why I’m calling you babe’ Reid was trying to say.

And Derek caught it, “Hey, baby, was worried about you. Who’s your friend?” He said in his smooth voice, a voice Spencer couldn’t forget. He especially couldn’t forget now, being called ‘baby’ was something Spencer especially could not forget.

“I’m Fabian, you’re Spencer’s boyfriend?” Fabian asked, as if them both calling each other ‘babe’ counted for nothing. “Yeah, I’m Derek.” Morgan responded simply, sliding his hand around Spencer’s waist as if to prove a point. Fabian just nodded, looking between Spencer and Derek one last time before talking; “Well, it was nice to meet you, I’ve gotta get going. See you.”

And then, he was off, fast walking away from Derek and Reid, escaping the terrible situation he had created. Fabian quickly disappeared into the thick crowd, and by then Spencer had his hand squeezing his water bottle all too tightly- as evident by the terrible crunch sound it made. He was too anxious to let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked him softly, pulling his hand away from Spencer’s waist. “Can we find somewhere else- can we go sit down?” Spencer asked him quickly. Reid didn’t want to talk about it right this second, right where it had happened. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave pride and never come back.

Derek didn’t ask a single follow up question as he led Reid away from the food trucks, taking him back towards the vendors stands, and then a bit further back, into the normal-not-so-pride-parade-filled park area. Somewhere less stressful, less scary.

“What did that guy want?” Derek asked Spencer casually as they made their way towards a bench that was sat under a large oak tree. Spencer didn’t speak right away, instead he waited until they were seated to start talking.

“He was trying to flirt, but then he wanted me to leave with him.” Spencer explained as he took a deep breath in, just being away from all the loud sounds and sights was helping him calm down. Derek rubbed Spencer’s back in slow, circular motions as Spencer kept talking.

“He was a classic example of a narcissistic personality, it just made me so uncomfortable- he invaded my space.”

“He was a creep, Reid. Simple as that,” Derek kept rubbing Spencer’s back slowly, Spencer nodded. “I know. Sorry, it shook me up.” Spencer attempted to apologized, and Derek was immediately having none of that.

“Reid, no. Don’t apologize for that, don’t you dare. He was a creep, I’m sorry you got caught up with him. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. We can stay here until you feel up to going back, or we can leave. But I’m not leaving you.”

And so they sat for a good amount of time on that park bench, at one point Derek stopped rubbing Spencer’s back, instead just keeping his arm stretched out against the back of the bench and against Spencer’s back. Spencer loved it, but he knew if he thought about it for too long he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking. That was his biggest problem, he couldn’t stop thinking.

He had to know, he decided, he couldn’t just wonder why Derek was on the committee for PFLAG. He wanted to know, he had to.

“Derek?” He spoke up softly, sounds of laughing and shouting and music were still heard in the distance, but they were safe from the sounds under the tree. “Mhm?” Derek hummed in response, looking up at the aforementioned tree that was providing shade for them.

His eyes were tracing the way the branches curved and bent around each other, it was something he did to pass the time. Spencer thought he was extraordinary for it, Derek loved to see where things went; he was curious- after all these years, and all the bad they had seen together, Derek still loved to search and find the beauty.

“Why are you on the PFLAG committee ?” Spencer asked him, it was thankfully an innocuous enough ask to not draw too much of Derek profilings side out to pry apart his question. Derek shrugged, and was quiet for a second before responding, “I know what it’s like to be a scared kid, unsure of his identity. If I can help someone through that, that’s all that matters. Same reason I’m in the BAU, to help people.”

Spencer stayed quiet, Derek’s reason was so sincere and so sweet and kind- and only driving him to think further. Was Derek still unsure of his identity? Was he an ally? Why did he have to make Spencer swoon so hard without even trying?

“So, you’re just an ally?” Spencer approached Derek carefully with that question, not wanting to impose or be rude- but just feign simple curiosity, praying Derek wasn’t using his profiling skills right now to decode Spencer’s fake motive.

Derek didn’t notice, thankfully, as he chuckled lowly in response; “No, pretty boy, I’m bisexual. I don’t really tell the team, but it’s not confidential information. Plus, Garcia found Grindr on my phone. Can’t hide anything from that girl.”

Spencer nodded, mumbling something in response about how Garcia had hacked his email to make sure he was free for pride. And then, the two fell into silence again. But it didn’t last for long, because Derek wanted to know just as much, why was Spencer here?

“What about you, Reid?” Derek asked him cautiously, the way you approach a puppy you find on the side of the road. Calm and slow, trying to get him to trust him bit by bit. “What about me?” Spencer asked, not wanting to answer anything about himself unless Derek was specific.

“Are you an ally?” Morgan asked him, leaving the question open ended. Spencer could say as little or as much as he wanted. This is how you get him to open up, Derek knew that for a fact. “Um.. yeah, I mean- who isn’t? I just- I have to be. I’m.. gay.” Spencer admitted all too awkwardly, not at all in a normal fashion. But nothing about Spencer was in normal fashion.

Derek nodded slowly, not responding as he stared back up, tracing his eyes over the tree branches yet again.

A few hours had passed, Spencer and Derek eventually left their peaceful bench under the large oak tree, and instead moved back towards the parking lot.

“Garcia’s got a ride home already- I think she got that drag queen to get her home.” Derek explained as they approached his truck, Spencer nodded as he followed Derek. “Anyways,” Derek continued speaking, “I can give you a ride home. Let’s get going.”

“You don’t have to-“ Spencer started, Derek immediately shut him down. “I want to, c’mon. It’s late, you’re tired. I know you are. Let me take you home.” Spencer just nodded in agreement, he couldn’t argue with Derek, even if he did try. Morgan was a stubborn man.

So, Spencer followed Derek into his truck, and they sat in comfortable silence as they started on their journey back to Spencer’s safe space, his apartment.

By the time Derek pulled his truck into the apartments parking lot, Spencer knew something was just the slightest bit wrong. Derek had barely spoken for the entire ride, and usually he loves to say something, to make Spencer smile or laugh, or even just nod and mumble in agreement. But he had done none of that on the way to Spencers.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, turning to face Derek as he put the vehicle in park. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the steering wheel instead as he spoke; “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Spencer pried, absentmindedly unbuckling his seatbelt as he spoke, “About today.” Derek said, not explaining further. “Was today bad?”

Derek shook his head, “No. It started weird, it’s ending pretty good, though. But I’m gonna regret today forever if I don’t do something right now.”

Now, Spencer was confused. Not sure at all what Derek could be talking about, “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

Derek said nothing as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, turning to face Spencer as well, and then he leaned in- closer than they had ever been before. Their noses were almost touching, and Spencer didn’t move. Instead, he watched Derek’s eyes expectantly.

Then, Derek broke through, they were no longer intersecting each other’s personal space- now they were fully destroying each other’s atmospheres. Derek’s lips were on Spencer’s, a chaste, soft, quick kiss- something Spencer would have wanted to go for a lot longer. But then, he pulled away just as fast.

“...That’s what I meant..” He mumbled after a second, looking back towards the steering wheel, looking away from Spencer- and more importantly, not seeing the smile on Spencer’s face.

Spencer couldn’t help it. He knew it was terrible to be smiling right now- he should jump and say something to fix what was happening. But he had to smile, he couldn’t believe that had actually just happened, his brain was still computing and re-circuiting, trying to savor the memory and not forget how Derek’s lips felt against his.

Spencer dragged himself out of his own head quickly, though. He did all he could think of to do in the moment, get Derek back. “Morgan.” Spencer said, tugging on Derek’s sleeve as he did so, forcing him to look back at Spencer and meet his eyes again.

But Spencer didn’t say anything, and he didn’t give Derek the chance to speak, either. Instead, he leant forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. This is all he had wanted to know for the longest time, and now he had it.

Maybe pride wasn’t so bad after all, you just have to be with the right people for it to work out.

———————————————————————

197 notes · View notes

just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years

Text

Love and Medicine ~ 1

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 2,300ish

Summary: You begin your intern year at Avengers Medical Center

You let out a little groan as you turned around. You immediately knew you were naked as the cold wood floor sent chills down your bare body. Slowly opening your eyes, you took in your surroundings. You were home, in the house you had just inherited, boxes still pilled high around the living room you were laying in. Suddenly, someone else groaned beside you. You teased, clenching your eyes shut. The headache you had been ignoring since you woke finally broke free and you realized that your late night drunkenness must have caused you to bring a guy home.

You let out a long breath as you reopened your eyes and looked over at the hopefully-still-asleep man beside you. He wasn’t bad looking at all. You had really done well. He was blonde with a chiseled body. He had to have been at least six foot, which didn’t hurt. He was naked though, all out in the open on your living room floor. Cringing, you sat up, pulling one blanket from the couch to quickly cover yourself before standing and pulling one over him. You stood up silently, and began making your way out of the room. It was your first day of your intern year as a doctor, you couldn’t afford to be late.

You successfully made it to the doorway of the living room without a sound before the floorboard beneath you creaked. You should there, frozen, closing your eyes in hopes that the man sleeping behind you wouldn’t wake. You could hear him turn over, letting a small moan out of his mouth. Waiting a few more seconds, you started going again.

“You know…” the man started, clearly in his morning voice, “it’s usually rude to disappear on someone after spending a night with them.”

You quickly spun around to see him, still laying on his stomach, looking up at you with a sly grin.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “it’s my house, so it’s not that rude.”

He stood up, not grabbing the blanket as quick as he should have, letting you have another look at him. When you met his eyes again, it was clear that you had been caught staring and that he was enjoying it.

“Why the rush to silently get out of here?” He asked, tucking the blanket around his waist. “Have a husband or a boyfriend you have to hurry and get ready for?”

“Neither,” you responded, tightening your hold on the blanket covering you. “I’m running late for my first day of work. So, if we’re done here, you should go.”

“We don’t have to be done here.”

“I think we do.” You kicked up his shirt, grabbing it, and throwing him at it. “You need to go.” He caught his shirt, slipping it on slowly over his clear cut abs. “So, um, goodbye… um…”

“Steve,” he reached his hand out.

“Steve. Right,” you shook his hand. “Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He smiled. It almost took your breath away, but you couldn’t let it show.

“Yeah.”

“Nice meeting you.”

“Yeah. Bye, Steve.”

You fled up the stairs, hoping that by the time you were done getting ready, Steve would be gone.

~~~

You made it to the Avengers Medical Center just in time to meet up with the other interns in your year. The Chief of Surgery, Dr. Nicholas J. Fury, was leading a small tour to the ORs. He started talking as the interns took in the OR.

“Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors,” Fury stated. “The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you.”

He then told each of the interns which resident they were assigned to. You got Dr. Gamora. All of the interns were then taken to the locker room, where each of you were assigned a locker and given scrubs to change into and start your long day.

“Only ten women out of thirty,” you muttered as you slipped your scrubs on.

“Yeah,” the woman with fiery red hair next to you responded. “I heard that one of them was a model. Seriously, like that’s going to help with the respect thing?”

“You’re Natasha, right?”

She nodded. “You’re Y/N?”

“Mhm,” you hummed.

“Which resident did you get assigned to? I got Gamora.”

“Me too.”

“You got Gamora?” A male intern repeated beside you. “So did I. At least we’ll all be tortured together, right? I’m Clint Barton, uh, we met at the mixer. You had a dress with a slit up the side, those shiny heels…” You and Natasha exchanged looks. “Now you think I’m gay.”

“Uh-huh,” Natasha hummed, heading out the door.

“No, I’m not gay! It’s, ah, it’s just that, you know, you were, I mean… You were very unforgettable,” Clint rambled as you both followed after Natasha. You shot him a sympathetic smile before hurrying to catch up with Natasha. “And I’m totally forgettable.”

“Barton, L/N, Romanoff, Valkyrie, Lang,” a doctor called at the door way.

“Gamora?” Natasha questioned that doctor that called you.

“End of the hall.”

The five of you that were called began walking. At the end of the hall, you saw a pretty woman working on paperwork. She didn’t look as threatening as you had heard she was.

“That’s Dr. Gamora?” Natasha wondered.

“From what I heard, I thought she’d look scarier,” the other male in your group of five said. You guessed it was Scott Lang.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. “I thought she’d be… well, bigger.”

“Same,” you added.

“Maybe it’s professional jealousy,” a woman in your group suggested, Valkyrie, you presumed. “Maybe she’s brilliant, and they say things about her because they’re jealous. Maybe she’s really nice.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re the model,” Natasha said.

“Wait…” Clint said, looking at Nat. “I thought you were the model.”

Valkyrie shot Natasha a look before turning to Dr. Gamora with an extended hand. “Hi, I’m Valkyrie, but everyone calls me Val.”

Gamora looked her up and down, not even moving to shake Val’s hand. “I have five rules,” Gamora stated, clearly unimpressed already. “Rule number one, don’t bother sucking up, I already hate all of you, that’s not gonna change.” She turned and pointed to things on the counter. “Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours.”

Gamora began walking away with you and the others quickly following, after each of you have grabbed the things off the counter.

“You’re interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop and don’t complain!” She continued. Gamora led you to a door, opening it to reveal a room with bunk beds. “On call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woke me for no good reason, we clear?” There was a brief pause before you nervously raised your hand. “Yes.”

“You said five rules,” you tried to hold back a cringe as you spoke up. “That was only four.”

Suddenly, Gamora’s pager beeped. “Rule number five. When I move, you move.” She ran down the corridor, followed by you and the other interns. “Get out of my way!” She yelled at a few doctor’s blocking the hallway.

You had the others followed Gamora to the ER. There was a bustling trauma room that the six of you entered. There was a young female on the stretcher, already being hooked to the machines.

“What’ve we got?” Gamora asked.

“Savannah Chase, fifteen year old female,” the paramedic still in the room stated. “New onset seizures, intermittent for the past week. ID lost en route. Started gran mal seizing when the ambulance pulled up.”

“Alright, get her on her side, Val, ten milligrams Diazepam.” Val started to do as she was directed while the rest of you watched. “No, no, the white lead is on the right, righty whitey, smoke over fire, a large bore IV. Don’t let the blood haemolyse, let’s go!”

Val injected the young woman with the diazepam and she stopped seizing. A new Doctor entered the room.

“So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?” The man asked.

“Absolutely Dr. Banner,” Gamora responded.

“Dr. Gamora, I’m gonna shotgun her.”

“That means every test in the book, CT, CBC, chem seven, a tox screen,” Gamora clarified for the interns. “Natasha, you’re on labs, Clint, patient workups, Y/N, get Savannah for a CT, she’s your responsibility now.” Gamora began to walk away.

“Wait,” both Val and Lang called out. Gamora turned back around.

“What about us?” Val asked.

“You two—honey, you get to do rectal exams.”

~~~

You were currently in an elevator with Savannah, the patient, trying to find your way to CT. Since it was your first day at the medical center, you didn’t know where anything was and you were too stubborn to ask.

“You’re lost,” Savannah stated.

“I’m not lost,” you defended. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m missing my pageant.”

“You’re missing your pageant.” You wheeled her out of the elevator and around a corner, still not knowing where you were headed.

“The Manhattan Teen Miss? I was in the top ten after the first two rounds. This is my year. I could’ve won.” Savannah sat up as she was wheeled back around the same way. “Hello? You’re so lost. What are you, like, new?”

“I’m— just tell me what happened.”

“I twisted my ankle. I do rhythmic gymnastics, which is like, really cool. Nobody else does it. And I tripped over my ribbon, and I didn't get stuck with someone this clueless. And that was like, a nurse.”

You gritted your teeth, trying not to be over-the-line rude to a patient on your first day. It took you almost another forty five minutes to find CT. You helped her with the scan before taking her back to a room. Before you knew it, it was lunch time. You grabbed some food from the cafeteria, finding your group of interns alone at a table.

“Savannah Chase is a pain in the ass,” you grumbled as you sat down with your tray. “If I hadn't taken the Hippocratic oath, I'd Kevorkian her with my bare hands.” The others around her just stared. “What?”

“Good afternoon interns,” a new doctor came up. “I’m Dr. Maria Hill. It’s posted, but I thought I’d share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I’m running the OR today, I get to make that choice. I’ve been watching you all and I have to say, you’re all something. The intern I’ve chosen is, Scott Lang.”

Scott coughed up the drink he had been taking. “M-me?” He questioned.

“You’ll scrub in for an appendectomy this afternoon. Congratulations.” Then she left.

“Did she say me?”

“I can’t believe you were chosen over me,” Natasha grumbled. “It’s already clear that I’m a better surgeon that you.”

“Did she say… I’m sorry. What?”

~~~

After lunch, you went back to Savannah’s room to take care of her. As you did, a man and a woman, not doctors, came in.

“Savannah, honey, mom and dad are here,” the woman said, coming over to Savannah’s bedside.

“They gave her a sedative for the CT scan, so she’s a little groggy,” you informed them.

“Will she be alright?” The mother asked.

“Our doctor at home said she might need an operation, is that true?” The father wondered.

“What kind of operation?”

“She’s, um, well, you know what,” you tried your best to sound professional through your nervous stuttering, “I’m not, I’m not the doctor, uh. I am a doctor, but I’m not Savannah’s doctor, so I’ll go get him for you.”

You quickly left the room to go find Gamora. Thankfully, she was at the nurses desk just outside of the room. You hurried over but were too nervous to start speaking.

“What?” Gamora questioned, not looking up from the paperwork she was doing.

“Savannah’s parent’s have questions,” you responded. “Do you talk to them, or do I ask Banner?”

“No, Banner’s off of the case. Savannah belongs to the new attending now, Dr. Rogers, he’s over there.”

You follow in the direction that Gamora gestured to. You only made it a few steps before freezing. The man Gamora gestured to was talking to another doctor. But that wasn’t the reason you froze. Dr. Rogers was none other than your one night stand, Steve. Your eyes widened and you turned to go, but it was too late. Steve glanced your way, having to do a double take. You quickly left, feeling his eyes on the back of you.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

next chapter >

NOTES: Yes, this has been posted before, but I deleted it. I’m trying again. From now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#steve rogers x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #nick fury x reader #clint barton x reader #scott lang x reader #valkyrie x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #gamora x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines

254 notes · View notes

batarangsoundsdumb · 3 years

Text

hae interrogationes multae respondeant quia demens .

if you read this entire ask post you deserve a gold star and financial recompensation

Um, Obviously because when you’re adopted by a white guy you automatically become white duhhh

this is about this post lmao and yeah youre absolutely right, you have to hand your poc card in when you get adopted by a white guy.

Do you think Cass would listen to Yanni, the YouTube channel epic symphonic rock, or some other stuff? There's some cool mashups but idk if that's up your alley, I kinda feel like I'm pushing it with my weird taste of music by recommending an orchestra cover of metal, but i just love that sort of thing and mashups :P @harvestyourcherries

i haven’t heard of that? but in my personal (correct) opinion steph listens to classical music, and then both modern and older, and then also stuff like black sabbath, iron maiden, but also hardrock and hardcore. i like the idea of cass just liking the most extreme screaming songs full of noise and then also listen to pachelbel’s 370th sonata yanno? THANK YOU for the rec tho

speaking of ur cass playlist hc...reminds of the time (yesterday) i found 2 playlists randomly on spotify from the same user. one was abt 3 hours of instrumental/classical "dark" & "nostalgic" music. the other almost 11 hours of nothing but hardcore bass/synth/electronic music. just an incredible tightrope act to put on in public. the synth one was also called like "psalms for synth sluts" which is Also incredible

tbh i LOVE synth SO MUCH like for no reason at all but then also cannot handle a poppy electronic beat lmao. but this seems like the kinda thing i’d do but just in one (1) playlist bc i just sort songs by vibe instead of genre? that’s how i end up with britney spears and billy ray cyrus in the same playlist.

Oh, I want Kate Kane playlist next! It would be amazing if you could do one when you have time and will 🙏

how rude would it be of me to just say no? like sorry kate but idk you and also you seem way too keen on the us military for an institution that homophobically targeted you? (and also commits war crimes) but let’s unpack the fact that the institution that caused the death of your mom and sister and also got you blacklisted for being gay is still one you align with???

'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' 'yes i am' 'no you're not' --- when i tell you i fucking screamed LOL!!!!!!! i can imagine the cameraman not knowing if he should cut to commercial or keep it on these two weirdos fighting on stage (bruce definitely ruffled dick's hair/noogied him right??

about this post but yeah lmao. this cameraman just turns to like the audience to get a reaction and it’s just multiple moments of CLEAR shock.

you are the only funny person on this hellsite

how egotistical is it for me to say that i get this ask multiple times a month? bc it literally happens so often it’s hilarious to me.

Wish there was more john/Bruce content 😔😔😔 was so hungry I actually looked at canon media 😔😔😔 (Justice League Dark babeeeyyyyyy)

check out batman: damned for some mediocre content but at least it’s john/bruce (also very interesting story and stuff, just got very >:( over this weird part where harley quinn tried to r*pe bruce or something? it’s not for everyone)

dick grayson but he's nicki minaj

his anaconda don’t want none,,, unless......

Dick Grayson was never a cop, he played Marshall on Paw Patrol

you are SO right. also paw patrol is a fucking good show idc. that shit could’ve been the new steven universe on this hellsite.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CS1lI0bLI7-/?utm_medium=copy_link

...

why do people keep reposting my CONTENT. if you are not funny yourself don’t just grab shit off of tumblr and post it on insta,,, get a life. sidenote: should i start an insta and get all these ppl to take my content down that would be funny as hell.

Might I suggest for a Gotham City Meme: something about the true crime fandom thirsting for the rogues gallery

ok can i just say something slightly controversial?? no? i don’t find true crime ppl who are into criminals funny, that shits disturbing irl im not gonna bring that into my very chill universe.

i may have never seen a 'jason cleaning guns in sink' fic but i do know he WOULD

THANK YOU

bestie im sorry to say this to you but while you can, and people do wash their guns in the sink, that is a lot of lead in a very vital part of the kitchen.

people tend to do it in the bathtub.

WHY???? like damn why do you even have guns

i dont think i read many gun sink fics exactly but i have read lots of fics where jason cleanes his guns in the living room. usualy dissembles them and cleans them with a rag i think

lmao fair enough, like i think that’s a large part of what i remember as well.

if you say you've seen/read gun sink fics I believe you. I think those of us who didn't see them are lucky or maybe didn't search for fics by tags or something idk

i mean ive never sought them out but i HAVE seen them,, like definitely i know almost for certain.

saw your tags and I'm interested in Steph/Kara now. They would be the most chaotic couple <3

literally thoooo, i have a wip where they get together in a zombie apocalypse and like UGGGHhhh i am so in love with them.

I am the Breece anon. Thanks for the recommendation; am reading now. I’ve always been a hardcore Superman fan because I love my pure himbo farm boy. My logic is, if one Bruce is a Broose, then multiple Broose are a herd of Breece. And this is a hill upon which I will perish.

fair enough,,,, like moose, meese, goose, geese, bruce, breece. i get your logic and i stand by it as well. (glad you enjoyed the comic recs!!!!)

It's a beautiful day in Gotham, and you are a group of horrible Breece

OH my god dude lmao

there only being 42 fics on ao3 for tim and bernard is honestly so sad i need more

it’s like twice that now!!! we did it lads. (tho very sad that my fic isnt number one but like number 4 :(((( )

i'm too late you already did the poll lol but may i suggest bethy (bernard + timothy)

shit dude that wouldve been so fucking funnyyyyy. think ppl have just stuck to timber tho, tim/bernard kinda died down recently and i think it’s too bad, they’re a great couple and i love them.

Wait, hear me out

Bernothy @redlightofdawn

great recommendation (lmao this ask is from like a month ago) but very sorry to announce that NARDTH is the superior shipname

Wait, we know that bernard likes milfs (Tim's step-mom) but what about dilfs? gilfs?

Wait no, I regret sending that ask

these were two seperate asks and they’re HILARIOUS. in my personal opinion tho,,, milfs, gilfs, dilfs are just about vibes and bernard is just attracted to sexy ppl who may sometimes be milfs, dilfs, or EVEN gilfs.

crime in bludhaven would drop to half if nightwing had a boob window. in this essay i will-

WHERE’S THE ESSAY ANON, WHERE’S THE FUCKING ESSAY

Wait if Barbra and Tim r at opposite ends at all times what happened to Barbra once everyone’s Tim’s ever love before started dying lol

she won a lottery ticket and spent 2 weeks on a resort in the bahamas before returning home and finding out that the joker was arrested for tax evasion and then spent a month staying at her big tiddie goth girlfriend’s house before conner came back to life and she broke her pinkie playing table hockey.

Why is the opposite end thing so funny and compelling to me. Tim comes back from his depression quest for Bruce and Babs is now a literal god

lmao when tim loses his spleen barbara reaches nirvana.

Are you still taking music recs because I have three songs that remind me of Jason that I think you'd like

send to me or lose a toe

🌸 ⭐ put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. it’s time to spread positivity! ⭐🌸😋

thanks, i wont tho on account of i wont.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMduBy3Sr/

⬆️

This is the whole of Blüdhaven and everyone anywhere.

Nightwings ass alone saves more people in a calendar year and does more for so society than most heroes do their whole career.Also u are one of the funniest tumblr pages out there. The vibes are unmatched and the memes and tags ✨send me✨.Thank u and goodnight @julia-flow

fanksss also lmao.

That's going to be a little bit difficult to explain, but

There's some music that you listen to and you think, "oh my gosh, I can perfectly imagine Dick Grayson singing this song, with the same voice as the singer because that voice matches with Dick Grayson"?

oh yeah totally lmao. i have a lot of songs that i think are just entirely dick grayson yanno? kind of all of my playlists have that vibe, but i really find bleachers to fit with dick? idk.

"Lois lane/Superman" fics this, "Lois lane/Clark Kent" fics that, (/lh) let's get into the real good stuff. Some people ship Lois, Clark, and Superman as a throuple. Most popular fic tag for sure

yes totally, i think they’d be absolutely killer on ao3 and clark gets so fucking embarassed about it.

I miss your post, hope you’re doing okay!!

haha this was like 2 months ago, but i was doing fine then too! just didn’t have a lot of inspiration in terms of content.

Doot doot!

noot noot

I’m confused. What did DC do now? Like with nightwing? And another sibling? Please spoil everything for me

lmao they gave him a secret sister plotline where they had his dad cheat on his mom with tony zucco’s wife, bc dick’s life wasn’t traumatic enough yet.

sorry but it's so funny that batman is called "the dark knight" when the gotham city baseball team is called the gotham knights. it'd be like if a vigilante was running around new york called like "the scary yankee"

lmaooo no. but like yankee comes from dutch names or something so wouldnt it be HILARIOUS if gotham knights came from like german names and bruce would be running around called the dark KLAUS UND NIEK @graysonnightwing

(not a batcest shipper) it’s so funny to me that the responses are “i’m a batcest shipper because i can differentiate fiction from reality and and it doesn’t bother me personally, but i understand why you oils think it’s weird” to “i wish all batcest shippers a very fucking die”

yeah lmaoo. i personally basically flipped my entire stance around to ‘i dont care please leave me and everybody else alone’ bc i think there’s really no point in starting a moral dillema over some fucking fandom bullshit. Please just,,, go home,,, log off, find a nice forest to have a little walk in and remember that somewhere in history, somebody probably died in the place you’re standing. and you will also die someday, and somebody will have to look at your internet usage and see you fighting multiple people anonymously while being named ‘nightwingsbuttchin200186′ like... calm down, we’re all gonna die this is not the thing to worry about.

so since like "wards" don't really exist in modern society almost all the batkids are foster kids, right? i used to work in the system and imagine: monthly visits from social workers and guardian ad litems, bruce having to get permission to take the boys anywhere out of state, calling their social worker at like 8 a.m. like "yeah dick broke his arm again... a gymnastics accident this time...." their poor social worker. bruce send her a huge bouquet and box of chocolates every month to stay on her good side

i imagine the social worker just getting into the case like ‘yeah let’s get this kid a good guardian’ and then ending up having to work with 22 y/o bruce wayne and his 50 y/o dad. and so this social worker is like ‘okay we can work with this, this is the best home i can find’ and then like it ends up landing on its feet and then the kid gets adopted and then they get a call a year later like ‘uhm so hi, this kid tried to steal my tyres can i adopt him?’ and like 3 years later. ‘okay so basically, my neighbours’ kid imprinted on me and now they’re dead, can i keep him?’ two years later it’s like ‘okay so this assassin child-’

ever since I saw that one post of yours, the meme that's something like "I know that abba's backup dancer got me" with a picture of discowing, I've been haunted. Every once in a while I'll be minding my own business then the image of abba's backup dancer dick grayson aka nightwing aka discowing will flash in my mind and I'll be frozen in place. Today at work I was in the middle of folding clothes and suddenly once again discowing entered my mind and I suddenly lost the ability to see anything except He. Thank you.

wow. the IMPACT.

Braver than any US marine man props to you🤝

this shit is about the time i wrote an article on batcest, like man,,, the fact that i didn’t get cancelled is MIRACULOUS. also like,,, uh if anybody on here did gossip on me,, send screenshots i’d love to see it.

Hello, just wanted to say your article was great. Thank you for taking the time to provide an unbaised answer. It should provide people with nuances they couldn't possibly conjure on their own.

May I ask where your username originates from?

yes you may (also thanks!!!) i thought it up when i was trying to find an original username bc i didnt want to be called like ‘timdrakes something something’ or ‘jason todd something smoething’ or ‘dick grayson something something’ yanno? so i thought batarangs, they sound so dumb and that’s my username story... now it’s my whole entire brand lmao.

yno that bit in kick ass where red mist asks kick ass if he wants a hit of his blunt, was that the inspo for stoner tim

no? it’s bc i think stoners are hilarious and drugs are great. (dont do drugs tho)

How would u feel if someone actually wore one of those bruce or ollie pride shirts u edited

fenomenal next question.

Dick as lil huddy and Jason as James gave me radiation poisoning and now I’m screaming crying throwing up so thx for that

(Rico suave as Tim is perfect tho literally no changes needed)

i was so funny for that shit wasn’t i??? lmao i loved those weird ass fancasts

You're doing the Lord's work by providing us with all these Gotham/Metropolis citizens memes, thank you for being so relentlessly funny @nellethiel-aranel

you’re welcome!! i really enjoy making memes, but getting validation for my content and my memes is REALLY nice.

Bruce is such a slut in your memes and honestly i love that for him @rhodey-rhudert-rhodes-main

he’s that much of a slut irl too dw.

Bruce and Alfred have an emergency pride flag for the batkids. Oliver Queen printed an emergency "I love my gay son" t-shirt and as soon as Roy told him he was dating Jason, Oliver started wearing that shirt everyday and Roy always cringes when he sees it. Oliver also has an emergency "I love my lesbian daughter" shirt just in case for Cissie.

lmao YES i had a post like this bc like all of their kids/family members are so gayy

stop bringing back batfam fancasts it is not real it is not real it is not- 😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀

oh yes it is my darling.

did discowing burn down the notredam because he hates the bees? @allulily

no he did it bc fuck the french.

im gonna beg for 1 thing and 1 thing only. please please please put physical by olivia newton john on dick's playlist

okay then beg. bc i wont. physical reminds me too much of glee and that hurts me mentally.

your playlist is sorely missing some Madonna. Specifically Into the Groove, Like a Prayer, and Vogue

i’m scared of madonna that’s why she’s not on there. she haunts me in my dreams.

suggestion: son of batman by aaron dews for dick’s playlist🤩

sorry, i listened to it and the vibe didn’t agree with me.

Hear me out, metropolis citizens sending rare pair fics of Clark Kent x Superman fics to Lois to edit

yes, absolutely hilarious. even more funny if they send like physical copies, no address attached and lois sends it back marked with red ink, SOMEHOW

Imagine all the smut Clark must of read editing the fics

clark reads smut confirmeeed

NOT LOIS READING SUPERBAT PORN AND EDITING IT A 2AM

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

hc that alfred is a meta that boosts healing factor of the people around him. if the bats are injured as much as they seem to be they would be doing bat stuff MAYBE half the year. no one including alfred knows about this. whenever the kids move out they inexplicably dont recover from injuries as fast and feel better whenever they visit the manor they just chalk it up to homesickness. bruce just thinks he heals really fast. alfred thinks everyone doesnt take care of themselves properly @finchcollector

that’s actually such a great idea, but i think that alfred would find out and learn how to concentrate it better so he can help more people, bc he’s great and i love him.

One of your dickfast posts reminded me of that tweet that goes: 'so you've had sex how many times? Yeah technically that's not a bromance' lol that's dickwally or dickroy

literally tho. like that’s all of dick’s friendships. once it gets past a certain time dick is like ‘wow i wonder what it would be like to make out with wally, wally come make out with me’ and wally’s like ‘we’ve done this like 40 times, dick, you know what it’s like’ and dick is like ‘sorry are you complaining?’ and they just make out.

superfam and batfam associations??

-batman and superman

-dick/barabara and supergirl?

-conner and tim

-jon and damian

pls enlighten me I am confused

nope,,, uhm batman and superman, but dick and superman as well, and then conner and tim, jon and damian and steph + babs with supergirl

I came across a fic in which Wonder Woman calls Batman "Stella" (like Stellaluna, the children's book) and I can imagine the batkids hop on the trend and maybe copies of the book appear at random places (aka, everywhere Bruce frequents)

sorry can’t reciprocate that was the name of my high school chemistry teacher and it gives me nightmares to think about.

good human what are your pronouns?

wouldn’t you like to know?

I need me some gothamites preferring harley over joker memes

everyone prefers harley over joker youre just very fucked up if you dont

don't understand why people try to add like veteran policy to the batfamily

dick pulling out his veteran batfam member card so he can eat first: step aside, peasants

Do you know the song Simmer by Haley Williams? It (the first verse anyways) reminds me of Jason? It's about rage.

damn yeah i LOVE HAYLEY!!!! youre right thoo

Okay so I like listen to your stoner Tim Drake playlist 24/7 but would he listen to skegss? Also I keep adding songs mentally it’s killing me 😩✋🏼 Anyways,, I literally love and worship your playlist 😃🤞🏼 And uh yeah have a good day ✨

stoner tim drake playlist is lyfeeee. also dont know who skeggs is? i’m stupid? have a good day!!

All the Robins (and Batgirl) decide to trade costumes for one night just to fuck with Batman and all the villains in Gotham. @subspacecadet

batman knows it’s them youknow but like,,, what does he call them? he’s like ‘red hood?’ and 3 people answer and he’s not about to compromise some identities so he’s just Pissed.

I aspire to treat cops the way my dad treats them. This man is a 45 year old Asian immigrant to the US and the treats them like his pets. He talks about them like unruly children. Sometimes he pays off local cops to shut up and stop acting racist. And usually it works. I don’t know why but I can see Oliver Queen doing this

vibes... and also yes? oliver queen handing a local cop a donut to shut the fuck up lmao. but yanno i commit enough crimes to not really want to ever see a cop ever, so they kinda scare the everloving fuck out of me.

seeing as tim hasn't aged in years, that means he was 17 at peak emo tumblr era. im back on my emo tim bullshit and im not letting it go

emo tim had a wattpad account send tweet

People seem to think that batman is so dark and serious when the rainbow batsuit is right there. He wore it with no shame.

dude the 60s were a DIFFERENT TIME

dick grew up in a circus, jason grew up on the streets, and tim was probably raised by the internet

all of them cuss every other word and you cannot tell me otherwise

bitch i KNOW but dc has to change to an 18+ rating if they want to sell comix with swear words in them so we gotta deal with imagining the swear words in ourselves

thoughts on teen titans and young justice

haven’t seen teen titans on account of havent seen it and young justice was LITERALLY my favourite thing ever, tho i do gotta admit it’s not at all similar to the young justice comics unfortunately. i really wouldve liked to see timmy bart kon cassie and cissie animated on tv!!

ew ew ew how to delete batcest shippers I genuinely digust them

log off tumblr?

Okay as poc who was called racist for calling an Italian pastabrain: in the batfam are Italians bit Damian just yells various insults about the others being Italian. Just him yelling “What are you doing you moronic spaghettihead!” At steph etc

huh? i meant real italians. homeboy is telling steph he hopes she chokes on her fucking garlic.

I think it's dumb as hell to pull the batman is the best fighter in the batfam argument because like it's just irresponsible of Bruce to let his kids fight when they couldn't possibly be on his league or something

fair enough, but also like who cares they could all kill you just sit down and take a beating.

lady shiva, thalia al ghul and Selina Kyle are all milfs @notanothertimburtonenthusiastugh

unfortunately, i have to admit,,, you’re right

why tf didn't someone give joker a death sentence already? like he's a mass murderer...give him the electric chair treatment wtf

idk i think plenty of people would have tried to murder him already (boring answer is: he is a popular character so they can’t kill him off bc he brings in lots of money)

There’s no such thing as “ copaganda”.

all american media is propaganda. happy to clear this up for you

is it bad that I find lady shiva owa owa

no. find her as owa owa as you want.

aight I'm guessing the order of your favs in batfam:

1. tim

2. Steph

3. dick

4. Duke

5. the rest

you’re wrong but it’s cute that you tried, i generally don’t have favourites, but i have a special place in my heart for steph, tim, dick and cass. bc they were like my introduction to batfam. but damian, jason, duke, bruce, babs and alfred are NOT FORGOTTEN OR UNLOVED

oh my god i was literally just readily willing to believe that italians werent white ty for clarifying it was a joke im so dumb sdkvjskdfs

i mean some italians aren’t white? italian is a nationality as well as an ethnicity, so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

since I saw so many people doing headcanons about the nationalities of batboys, I see Dick as an Italian.

dont know if youre serious or not, but sure.

super random but

jason 🤝 damian

old english

lmao fair enough.

tim absolutely has 1 gay uncle and his parents shit talk said uncle all the time so after bruce adopts him he specifically reaches out to this uncle to be like "heyyyy just so you know you majorly influenced my life yes i know i havent seen you since i was 5 and at the family reunion yes i know you dont remember my name idc thank you im gay too" and then they never talk again.

yuppp lmao that’s definitely something that could happen. i can also consider tim having no family members, like none. until he does like a dna test and he realises he has like an aunt living barely 2 miles away from him who’s like some illegitimate child of his grandpa.

I dare you one of them sends clark superman/clark fic and clark corrects the shit out of it and then goes like ps his dick is not that big, just telling as someone who has seen it. internet either explodes or goes who tf did he not fuck at this point.

i think everybody would call clark a buzzkill and try to cancel him over that.

so you're telling me Tim Drake wouldn't buy Starbucks?

no. dunkin donuts all the way

One of my favorite things is imagining people finding out jason came back from the dead and being like "oh no does he have magic powers now?!?!?" and he just pulls out a gun and tries to shoot joker

now he doesn’t even have the gun :) lmao

my favorite batfamily fanfictions are the ones where they use their shitty codenames, unironically, in any context

bruce gets codename ‘ugh’ everytime. he hates it.

crazy that tim being a 17 y/o ceo and a stoner who does brand deals are all actual canon things written in detective comics comics and not made up for shits and giggles by you, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb @rowdeyclown

SO CRAZY HUH?

batman au where everything is the same but his utility belt is bright pink

absolutely, but i raise you, his boots light up like sketchers when he kicks people.

unbeknownst to the superhero fandom writers in the dcuniverse, clark and BRUCE are one of the most prolific fanfic writers in the superhero rpf tag on ao3. clark writes the best lois x superman angst, full of unhappy endings and scenes that are a so detailed you'd think you were in the middle of a superhero beatdown. bruce made an ao3 account to fuel "the do the butts match" thing, and makes batman/bruce fics from time to time. he wrote a superbat fic as a joke but ended up making it REAL porny. @concrastinator

dude they’re WAY too busy for that. Oliver Queen and Hal Jordan on the other hand are the most prolific fanfic writers in the superhero rpf tag writing what is Mostly porn.

When the dining table topic gets to politics, Steph says "eat the rich" as the solution

bruce just silently takes away her fork and knife while she’s talking.

#literally if you got through this i just respect you #this is mainly just for the people who sent me an ask in the past few mask #i hope your ask is in here :)#sorry for everybody else #ask #bataranswers #this took me 4 hours to do so i hope youre happy #also sidenote #does anybody know the latin translation for 'to become'#bc i just used future of 'esse' but it could be a different verb #who cares tho latin is a dead language #big congratulations to everyone who translates my sentence #here's a bonus sentence: tuam matrem futueram

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phlox238 · 3 years

Text

i wrote a pretty long rymin fic and half of it is min being anxious and getting advice from a lesbian at a gay bar,,, it sucks but here it is anyway

2.5k words this is the most ive ever written

"So," The girl began, gesturing wildly with her hands. "You think you're in love with your best friend, who you've known since you were born, and you're in a band and traveling across Canada and the USA with. What did you say your name is?"

"Oh, fuck." Min-gi sighed, letting his head rest in his hands. "This is weird, isn't it? I barely know you."

"Nah, I just thought that, if we're going to have a slightly drunk chat in the back of a gay bar, then we should know each other's names. I'm Eryn, and you?" Eryn stuck out her hand, the many bracelets she wore on her wrist clanking together.

Min chuckled a little, then took her hand and shook it. Her dark skin was warm, which was surprising, since this part of the bar was near freezing. "Min-gi. But you can call me Min."

"Awesome. So, tell me about it, Min." Eryn tightened her ponytail, leaning forward on her arms.

"Tell you what about it? There's so many things that I could say." He was so caught up in this gay crisis stuff that he hadn't even considered stopping for a moment to really think about it.

Eryn shrugged. "Whatever you want to say. Get stuff off your chest, just let it out, if you want to. There's like, nobody else back here. Doesn't really matter, right? I'm not judgy."

"Okay...well, he has a girlfriend, first of all; has had many of them. So he's not into dudes." Min crossed his arms.

"Hey, he could still be. Just because he dates women doesn't mean he's straight. Could still be into guys. Don't give up hope just yet, okay?" Eryn laced her fingers together, as if she was planning something. The dark lighting of the bar didn't help anything.

“Damn,” Min rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t know you could like both.”

Not without laughing at him first, Eryn started to explain. "Oh, wow, you really are new to this, huh?" She chuckled a little more, shaking her head. “That’s okay. There’s a lot of different ways to love people, you just gotta figure out what works for you. Oh, also; it isn’t just both. There’s the genderqueer people, too, don’t forget about them!” She smiled.

Min didn’t quite know what genderqueer meant, but he figured he could find out later. He was asking too many questions already. "Damn...how do you know all of this? I only realized I was, er, gay, like six months ago." Min marveled at her, the same way a nerd at school would marvel at the 'cool kids.' And honestly, she really looked like one, with her ponytail and undercut, her yellow, patched leather jacket, even the flashy jewelry she wore.

It made Min want to start dressing differently. Dressing cooler, like Ryan, like Eryn. Maybe he could.

Eryn grinned wider. "Oh, you know. It's just things you pick up along the way. I've known that I'm lesbian for a long time, since I was like 11. And I'm 21 now, so that's a long time. Lots of experience." She shuffled a little in her seat, taking another drink of beer. "Anyway. We're getting off track, aren't we? Keep talking, man."

Min laughed, a real laugh. "Okay, okay. A year ago, we, er…" He reached desperately for an explanation for the train, but decided that, just maybe, he could tell her. Really, the worst that she could think of him is that he's a drug user. "Can I tell you something? It's going to sound absolutely insane, probably, but I just. Need to tell someone."

She looked concerned, her dark brown eyes wide, but nodded anyway. "That's real ominous. But sure, go for it."

"Okay. So. Stick with me, here. A year ago, him and I got on a train, right? But then, there was another train door within the train. We just...went into the door. Well, the bastard threw my keys into it and then ran in, so how could I not follow?" Eryn was looking at him intently like she understood. Min could tell he was pretty drunk by now; he'd never be able to open up to someone this much sober. But that's okay. More than okay, really.

"It gets even weirder from then on. Ryan- that's his name, by the way- and I woke up on a giant, infinie train in the middle of nowhere. Gotta be pretty unbelievable, though. You probably think I'm on drugs." Min sighed.

Eryn was silent for a moment, but it was obvious she was getting ready to explode. "Dude, no fucking way!" Yep, there it was. "I got on that train! When I was eleven. I was super conflicted on my sexuality, had a shit ton of internalized homophobia as a result of having homophobic family. I felt like a disgusting person. So I got on the train, and it actually helped me through it." She'd completely lit up when Min mentioned the train. Looked like she was going to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

For a moment, Min was speechless. Soon, though, he regained his voice. "You're kidding," was all he could muster.

"Nope." Eryn's grin nearly reached her ears. "Did you have someone to help you along, too? There was a white cat named Samantha for me. She was French, for some reason. But I miss her."

"Oh! Yeah, Ryan and I had a floating, talking bell named Kez. Weird, right?. I miss her, too. Wonder how she's doing." Min thought for a second, completely and utterly relieved to have met someone else to share an experience with. Then something clicked. "Hold on...I might have met this cat you speak of. Yellow eyes? Uh, blonde...hair?"

"Blonde hair? Well, she didn't have that. But yeah, yellow eyes, French accent." Eryn nodded. They were silent for a moment.

Min chuckled, suddenly getting the urge to continue on with their story. Telling someone about the train would feel wonderful. "We had a lot of...issues...regarding our friendship, at the time. That's why the train picked us up in the first place." He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "The train did help us. But we had a lot of weirdly intimate moments on it, and that's where my sexuality crisis started. Like, there was a car where we had to perform a song with each other to get out of it, and of course I got stage fright right before it. I left him alone on stage. Again." Min paused, the guilt almost making him feel like he was living through that moment again.

Eryn nudged him. "And? That doesn't sound intimate. What happened next?"

"I hid in the bathroom. So he came in, and at first he was angry, but I was having a full on anxiety attack. We sat in the bathtub, hip to hip, knee to knee. It was weird, but nice. He helped me calm down. And like...in our last year of Highschool, I gave him a shirt with our band name on it. In that bath tub, he had it with him. He kept it. Said he'd never done a show without it." Min laughed, but there wasn't much humor about it. "Man, I wanted to kiss him so bad right then and there. But I didn't."

Eryn had a soft look in her eyes. "I dunno about you, but that sounds pretty damn gay to me. Maybe he's just dating other people to distract himself from his crush on you, who knows! All I'm trying to say is, don't give up on this, Min. You two have something going on, I don't know what, but it could blossom into a relationship." She patted him on the shoulder, then took another drink of her beer.

Min did the same. "What if he's not gay?" His voice was small. "Worse, what if he's homophobic? I don't know...fuck, it's terrifying. I could lose him because I'm gay."

"Well," Eryn paused for a moment, "you could try and subtly bring it into conversation. Maybe, like, bring up a celebrity who's gay. See his reaction." She gestured with her hands a lot, Min noticed.

Min nodded. It seemed simple in theory, but he knew he'd manage to fuck it up somehow. The logical part of his brain knew Ryan wouldn't leave him for being gay, but at the same time, there was this voice in the back of his head. Irrational thoughts, irrational fears; that's all it spoke of.

"Thank you. Really. It's been nice to talk about this, especially with someone who's been on the train. That thing is...a freak of nature. Maybe not even nature, I don't know. I'll try that with him, too." Min said finally, after some silence. Eryn laughed.

"Yeah, it absolutely is." She smiled widely. Eryn glanced around, her eyes finally landing on the only visible clock in this part of the bar. Her eyes widened. "Shit, I should really get going! Sorry. I told my girlfriend I'd be back around now." She, out of nowhere, gave Min a hug. It'd been a while since he'd hugged anyone, he realized, and it felt nice. Although, very unexpected.

Min hugged her back, sort of awkwardly. They separated soon after.

"That's okay. Again...thank you, so much. I should get young too." By now, it was almost 11 pm, and he figured he should leave as well. Ryan should be back at their apartment soon enough.

Min was about to turn and leave, but Eryn stopped him.

"Hey! How about we exchange phone numbers? This was a good chat, eh? I'd like to stay in contact." Eryn searched her pockets for a pen and some paper, but only found a marker. "Can I, like, write it on your arm and you can do the same?"

Min knew Ryan would tease him over it, but oh, well, he made a new friend. "Yeah, that's fine." He laughed, offering her his arm. She quickly scribbled her number on it, and honestly, it was barely legible. But he could read it, somewhat.

He then wrote his number on her arm, they exchanged goodbyes, and were on their way. Min dreaded returning to Ryan, who would definitely start to go on and on about his girlfriend, and just prove to make Min feel worse about his stupid crush.

But maybe, just maybe, Eryn was right. Maybe things would finally go his way for once.

•••

Min's walk home was quiet (as quiet as New York can be at night) and cold, it being the middle of November. Snow was just beginning to fall. Being outside Eryn's words stuck in his head like glue. Talk to him. As if he could do that. The idea of even just mentioning anything close to being gay made anxiety rise in his throat like bile.

He couldn't. Probably.

Before he could think much more on it, he was home. Home. Back to the decent one bedroom apartment they'd scraped up all of the money in their pockets to buy. Back to the scent of cigarette smoke in the air, back to the strange stains on the carpet in the hallway. Most importantly, back to Ryan. No matter how much resentment Min-gi might hold to him for having a girlfriend, Ryan usually made things better.

He walked up the stairs and down the hall to apartment number 202, ironically. Unlocked and opened the door to find it dark inside save for a single lamp. Min walked in, curious, just to find Ryan curled up in the fetal position on the sofa. That really made him anxious.

"Hey...Ryan? You good, man?" Min sat on the empty portion of the sofa, near his head.

Ryan stirred, rolling over onto his back. His head was resting a bit on Min's thigh, and it felt kind of nice.

"I dunno…" He mumbled. "She broke up with me."

"What?" Min looked down at Ryan, surprised. "Lisa? You're kidding."

"Nope, not kidding." Ryan laced his fingers together over his stomach. "The thing is...I'm like, kind of relieved that she did it? How fucked up is that?"

Min tilted his head in confusion. He really wanted to run his hand through Ryan's hair, but that was a really inappropriate thought for the moment.

"She, uh...said some things. When she broke up with me." He sighed. "Called me a fag." Ryan laughed, like he found it funny. Min didn't.

"Dude, what? Why?" Min's voice was a little shaky, for no other reason than that they were talking about gay people.

Ryan sighed. "Take a good look at us, Min." He brought his forearm up to cover his eyes. "We're two dudes, living in a one bedroom apartment together. We do everything together. Of course she's gonna think there's something going on."

Min felt like he was going to fucking disintegrate. "U-Uh...and that's a bad thing?"

"I mean...no. It just kind of clicked that...maybe she's right. Maybe I am gay." Ryan sat up, his back facing towards Min. He didn't look back. " I always assumed that I'd be straight, but this...it makes sense. None of my relationships have ever worked out. With women."

Min reached out and gently touched his shoulder. "Ryan...it's okay."

Ryan looked back, now, and his eyes were watery. Min frowned.

“How could it be okay?” His voice cracked as he spoke. “It’s just another reason for people to hate me. For my parents to hate me. Hell, maybe even you.” By the time that he finished talking, his voice was almost inaudible.

"No!" Min almost shouted, jolting forward. "No. Ryan, I could never hate you." Fuck, how was he supposed to tell Ryan he's gay now? Part of him wanted to shout it out impulsively, but the other part, it just wanted to keep hiding. Because what if something goes wrong? What if Ryan's in love with someone else? All what ifs. He really needed to stop.

Min inhaled deeply. Here goes. "This is gonna sound really coincidental, but...I'm gay too."

Quickly, Ryan turned around to face Min. His eyes were wide behind his glasses.

"What? No fucking way. You're kidding." Ryan was leaning forward, using his fists to prop him up.

Min shook his head. "No...I'm not. I was gonna tell you soon anyway, but now seemed like a good time." He scratched his head awkwardly.

Then, Ryan launched at him, hugging him. Arms wrapped around his neck, knees touching Min's thighs, the whole package. Min was sure he'd die with how flushed his face was; but thankfully, he didn't.

After what felt like a while, Ryan finally spoke.

"I love you." He mumbled into Min's shoulder.

Min paused. "In a gay way, or…?"

Ryan laughed. "Yeah, you idiot." He shook his head in amusement.

"Good. That's...great." He hugged Ryan tighter, finally letting himself run his fingers through his hair. It was soft, just like he expected. "I love you too."

#rymin #infinity train #infinity train book 4 #ryan akagi #min gi park #infinity train season 4

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if-you-built-yourself-a-myth · 3 years

Text

Check Ignition: Part III

That Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV

Requests are open if you have any ideas of what I should write next

After the second night of Sander and Robbe’s arrangement, Robbe couldn’t eat dinner in the Great Hall for a week. A whole fucking week. He had Jens and Aaron sneaking sandwiches into the dormitory at dusk using cloaking and levitation spells. Lunch would have been an issue, too, if he hadn’t been spending those with Sander. Unfortunately, one meal a day together was the minimum for a convincing fake relationship.

“I can’t eat alone, can I?” Sander had asked when they met in the Great Hall after classes. “Boyfriends eat together.”

Robbe could do nothing but give in. They tried for dinner at first, and the following dissolved into lunch. Sander sat on the edge of the Hufflepuff bench, as if he were not welcome there, and held Robbe’s hand on top of the table while he ate whatever finger food he could and engaged in pleasant small-talk with Jens. He normally spent his evenings roaming the grounds.

Of course, that left Robbe and his friends at the table come dinnertime, watching Noor stare daggers at them. And that wasn’t cool. Britt’s ice-cold mannerisms at prefect meetings didn’t help, either, and only Senne could balance her out.

This month was going to feel a lot longer than Robbe imagined. If Sander didn’t find someone better.

Robbe was relieved when the weekend rolled around, because it brought with it Hufflepuff’s first game of the Quidditch season, against Ravenclaw. Jens made Robbe and Aaron run drills until one AM the night before. Peak physical condition was more important than sleep anyway.

Now, Robbe flew out over the pitch, one hand poised over his eyes to shade them from the sun. It took only a moment to spot the green and silver scarf in Hufflepuff’s black and yellow section, and Robbe knew that he didn’t really miss getting Great Hall dinners. So what if it was fake? There was Sander, in all his bleach-blond glory, sitting next to Senne in the stands and waving a black and yellow flag.

Sander locked eyes with Robbe and started screaming something incoherent over the wind. It was probably more about what people in the stands heard than what Robbe himself did, so Robbe soaked up the precious minute of Sander’s bright and happy face instead of paying attention to the message.

“Alright,” said Jens, gathering the other players closer for a pep talk. Robbe flew up a little higher to be level with the rest of the team. “Ravenclaw’s good. Great, even. But we’re better. Keep the Quaffle away from Zoë—she’s too fast and we’ll never see it again. Robbe, stop looking at your boyfriend.”

He wasn’t looking at Sander. He just so happened to be gazing the direction of the Hufflepuff stands.

The other team members muffled their laughter.

“Obviously, Yasmina,” Jens continued, unperturbed, “you are smarter and more capable than all of us. Please fix our mistakes.”

Yasmina played keeper. No one could protect a post like her, and the Ravenclaws knew it. There would be some faceoffs today. “Good pep talk,” she said.

“I try. Alright, I think that’s it. Let’s have an amazing match, no life-threatening injuries, no deaths. Go Hufflepuff!”

With that, the team shot apart to their differing positions on the pitch. Jens and the other chasers crowded the half line, Aaron and his fellow beater stayed back a little bit with bats poised, and Yasmina lounged sideways in front of the goal. Robbe decided to circle the game from above for a better perspective. The view reminded him of that from the astronomy tower. As play began, it was difficult to differentiate between teams swarming the pitch—a hurricane of bludgers and broomsticks. Robbe waited for the glare of the sun to highlight the golden snitch.

“Hello up there!” Yasmina called up to him, around five minutes in. Hufflepuff had pretty steady possession of the Quaffle. “See anything?”

“Not yet,” he shouted back. Ravenclaw’s seeker tarried by their set of goalposts. She hadn’t seen anything either.

“Is Sander really your boyfriend?” There was no judgement in her tone, yet somehow, Robbe felt it anyway. He curled into the defensive.

“Yes, and what of it?”

“Nothing. Just, Jana said so.”

“He’s gorgeous,” said Robbe, dropping twenty feet to do so.

“I didn’t know you were gay.”

“I’m not—”

The Quaffle almost made it through the smallest of Yasmina’s hoops, but she batted it away before it could cost a point. Jens grabbed her rebound and sped away down the side, passing back and forth with a fourth-year chaser they called Macs. Another minute, and a gong-like noise signaled a Hufflepuff score. They were leading thirty to zero.

“It’s great, really,” said Yasmina. “I’m happy for you.”

Robbe didn’t know what else to say, so he mumbled, “Thanks.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Sander’s unmistakable bleach blond move around. He whirled to the action. Sander was talking with someone, a brunette girl, with animated hand gestures. For some reason, it made his head buzz.

Yasmina followed his line of vision. “Who’s she?”

No one Sander wasn’t allowed to talk to.

“A friend,” Robbe said smoothly. “Watch the game.”

Sander could chat with anyone he wanted. It didn’t mean anything more than Robbe’s fake relationship with him did. Yasmina had the good sense not to push it.

The game passed at an alarming speed, no time to perseverate on anything going on in the stands, no time for any more casual conversation. Jens was a blur with the Quaffle, dodging bludgers and ducking under other players. Zoë was never far behind. The teams would have been locked into a helpless tie if it were not for Yasmina’s stellar guard of the goal. By the halfway point, Hufflepuff was ahead ninety to thirty, and not one sign of the snitch. Robbe busied himself by weaving in and out of the towers around the pitch, because he enjoyed the way the Ravenclaw seeker followed him around like a lost child.

He hadn’t seen a thing, and look at her go! Maybe he would nosedive to watch her streak beside him, or launch into the atmosphere with her along for the ride.

A bludger knocked into the side of his broom. “Shit, sorry!” yelled Aaron from his spot beside Macs.

By some bizarre luck Robbe kept his hold, but the impact swiveled him back to face the Hufflepuff section of the stands, and he’d been avoiding that particular sight. He didn’t have time to turn away again. Sander stood out like a sore thumb. No, better comparison—Sander stood out like a sunflower in a field of poison ivy.

Cool it with the similes, Robbe. Focus.

The girl was still around. Sander was allowed to talk to girls as much as anyone else in the world. Robbe was upset, though, because it messed with the believability of their dating life. That was the reason.

He swooped directly over their heads, hand outstretched, as if they were all too blind to see the snitch a few feet in front of him. Where the gesture came from, who could say? Ravenclaw’s seeker didn’t hesitate to join.

“The skinny bloke over there is Robbe Ijzermans, finally doing something purposeful this match,” Luca’s voice boomed from the announcer’s box. Robbe didn’t know her that well; Aaron had a thing for her friend, Amber. “He’s spotted the snitch. Or he looks like he has. Toss-up. Oh, and lovely Zoë has the Quaffle again. Give them hell, girl—”

What the hell. Robbe was supposed to be dating Sander. Sander was crammed into the Hufflepuff section for him. Really, it would be suspicious if he didn’t do anything about this.

He angled his broom to spin back around and make a second pass over the Hufflepuff stands. This time, he got so close to Sander that he could ruffle Sander’s hair before zipping away. Let Luca talk about what that meant. The girl scooted away from Sander on the bench. She stared at the wooden slats beneath her feet, while Sander put his hands to his mouth and called something that Robbe couldn’t quite make out over the rush of blood in his ears.

Then, a glint!

By the announcer’s box, there it was! He could see its golden wings fluttering about. Normally, he tried to tune out Luca’s long-winded description of the game, but it was a little difficult when her microphone boomed in his ears as he shot out for the snitch.

“Looks like our Robbe has spotted it now. Wonder what that bullshit was earlier, then. Sorry, sorry I’ll stop cursing. Oh, fucking hell—”

Ravenclaw’s seeker came in close on Robbe’s side. She seemed to be following his movements; she couldn’t see the snitch about fifty feet away from her face. Robbe did have 20/20 vision. Maybe he was just better. It danced around in the air and across the stands, forcing them both to flip over in order to keep the pursuit.

“Macarthy with the Quaffle, he’s headed toward Ravenclaw goal. If I’m allowed to mention this, I don’t think Ingrid’s actually caught the snitch ever—right, sorry.”

The snitch closed its wings and dropped from the air until it was barely above the ground, where it reopened them to cut a trail across the worn grass. And here was Robbe, pretty close to the other Hufflepuffs, still.

This was a risky move, riskier than the hair ruffle. But it was pragmatic, Robbe reasoned, and it got him to the ground as quick as anything else. If he ever wanted to convince other people that his thing with Sander was something, it had to be more than sneaky kisses that didn’t really count for much. Plus, Ingrid didn’t actually see the snitch. So no harm done if he just—

Robbe let go.

The freefall was shorter than expected; he kept one hand wrapped around his broom as if he were on the monkey bars at the park back home. His feet met the wood of the stands with a bit of a bounce. Right next to Sander. Thank goodness, because there wouldn’t be time to move over if he landed by the wrong person. He conjured the memory from last week, when Sander kissed him for the first time, and did the same, but briefer and with less tongue. Tongue would be a little too much for a game. The crowd roared. He could see the snitch spinning in wide circles just above the ground. Ingrid halted overhead, confused, and darted toward the Slytherin tower.

“Another point for Ravenclaw over here and—what the fuck, Robbe?”

Robbe broke away before the kiss could take too long, and Sander leaned inward after him, as if he did not want it to end. Spectacular acting. Noor stood up from her seat three rows down, their eyes meeting for the shortest of seconds.

Before he could regret the whole thing, Robbe gathered up his last bit of courage and bounded down the stands on his feet instead of flying, making quite the jump at the end. He barely got his broom underneath him in time to evade a broken ankle on the pitch underneath the stands. Macs swerved to avoid him as his feet grazed the grass.

He coasted the rest of the chase on the adrenaline pumping through his veins and the absolute shock on Noor’s face. In no way did Sander’s cutting smile make him weak, no way.

“Guys and gals, take notes,” Luca declared. “Oh, and he’s got it, that son of a— Robbe has the snitch! Hufflepuff wins!”

***

Jens was on Robbe before he’d even dismounted his broom. “The fuck is with the grandstanding, huh?” he demanded. “You could have hurt somebody. You could have lost us the game. What the fuck?”

“Sorry, I was—” Robbe tore his gaze away at the sound of Sander’s voice coming down from the stands.

Sander caught him in a hug and brushed his lips along the edge of his ear, whispering, “How dramatic do you want this to be?” Skin peeled from his chapped lips and beads of sweat caught the light on his forehead. He was still a Greek god.

“I don’t know,” said Robbe, barely keeping his composure. “You can—”

He cut off as Sander scooped him up and spun him around in a circle. At its end, Sander lowered Robbe enough to draw him into a long, deep kiss. If Robbe could do wordless magic, every tree within a fifty-mile radius would have caught fire and burned to ash in a second.

He had to stop indulging thoughts like that. Noor stood by the entrance to the stands, and this was all for her. Just Sander helping him out.

“Gross,” said Aaron, patting Robbe on the back. “Get a room.”

“Gladly,” Sander said. “How long before Jens tries to get back to the dorms?”

“Oi!” Jens wasn’t done being angry with Robbe yet. “You’re not having sex on my bed!”

“Somebody has to, and you certainly aren’t.”

“Wow, okay. You’re not even—” Jens cut off. They’d promised to play along. “You’re new here, shut up.”

Sander accepted gracefully.

The other fans swarmed the players like flies and followed them on the way back to the dormitories, where Hufflepuff common room would likely host a killer party to celebrate the win. Robbe lost Sander in the fray almost immediately, even though their hands had been intertwined. He should let the group carry him along; he knew as much. Now that the game was over, though, there wasn’t any energy left for something like that. Robbe sat down on the pitch and leaned against the wooden supports of Hufflepuff’s box.

He wasn’t gay. He didn’t like Sander, not like that.

There must be loads of straight guys who felt good when they kissed other guys.

It didn’t mean anything. The whole relationship was fake.

Why wouldn’t his heart stop racing?

He breathed in until his lungs burned, held it for eight seconds, and exhaled until there was nothing left in his lungs. When that was done, things were calmer. More rational. His lips stung from the kisses.

This was not the time for a sexuality crisis. Tomorrow morning, maybe, or Tuesday afternoon.

The crowd’s cheers and banter faded off into the distance. The last straggling fans stumbled their way to the castle. It would be dusk soon, and the sunlight painted everything a delicious shade of gold. Robbe couldn’t help but fantasize: Sander in the sun like this, Sander’s eyes in the sun like this, Sander’s long eyelashes in the sun like this. He hated himself a little bit.

“Hey.”

Robbe looked up. Noor stood a few feet away, wearing a Hufflepuff sweater and a pair of sweatpants. The late November temperatures were no joke.

“Hello,” he replied.

“I thought you’d be upstairs.”

I thought you’d leave me alone, he thought. He said, “Catching my breath.”

“It’s a good night tonight. Lots of stars.”

“They’re around every night.”

“I guess.” She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “You haven’t been at dinner.”

“I’ve been studying,” said Robbe. “Exams in three weeks, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Robbe opened his mouth to tell her to spit it out, whatever she had to say. He was tired of talking to her. He needed her to disappear, even if it hurt, and fuck, he was a bad person after all.

“He’s going to get tired of you,” she said. It wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t even that sad. She said it like a fact. “He’s… he’s not right. He’s going to get bored and leave you.”

That caught him off-guard. “What?”

“Sander.” Noor bit her lip. “He and Britt are going to get back together. They always do.”

Robbe scoffed. “I don’t really care about Britt’s take on this, no offense.”

“It’s not hers. It’s mine. Sander’s going to get bored of you, and when he does, he’s going right back to her.”

The whole thing was fake. Sander wasn’t even with Robbe. How could Sander leave if they weren’t together? Nothing Noor said had any bearing on Robbe’s situation at all.

He repeated that to himself.

“Is that all you came out here to say?” he asked. Hopefully that sounded confident. Robbe was still a little out of breath from the game.

Noor nodded. “I just thought you should know. Don’t get too attached. Sander’s—”

“It’s not really your business,” said Jens. Oh thank goodness, there he was, behind Noor. He must have turned around when he realized Robbe wasn’t with him. Sander was at his shoulder. “C’mon, Robbe,” he said. “We’ve gotta get back. I think they’re popping champagne.”

Robbe pushed himself up using the wall as support. He wanted to hear the end of that last sentence, even if he never wanted to hear Noor speak again.

What he knew:

He didn’t consider himself to be a particularly interesting person, never had, and today was the most brazen he’d been in his entire life.

The arrangement was made to be thrown away as soon as someone better stepped onto to scene.

Sander already knew that he was boring—Robbe was a prefect, for fuck’s sake.

Noor hadn’t said anything that wasn’t aware of already.

For some reason, it still stung. They started off down the worn grass that led out of the stadium and in the direction of Hogwarts’ main building, and, very purposefully, Robbe slid his hand into Sander’s. Because he could.

“Sorry!” Noor called as they headed away. She really did sound it.

“What was that about?” came Sander’s whisper in Robbe’s ear. It sent shivers down his spine.

“Nothing,” he hissed back. “Don’t worry about it.”

He wouldn’t worry about it either.

#sobbe #sobbe fanfic #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #hogwarts au #requested fic #fake dating #my writing #wtfock

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