#milk is temporary severed hands are forever

[ineffablesheets]

John: Did you seriously put the severed hand in the fridge again?

Sherlock: It’s where it’ll stay freshest.

John: And what about the milk, Sherlock? Where does the milk go?

[risingsoleil]

NSFW idea for Linzin (AU, Canon, Modern)

Tenzin observed Lin breastfeeding and became curious about the taste of her milk.

The four months after he and Lin welcomed their baby couldn't be described into words, except chaotic and exhausting. But at the end of the day, they were so enamored and full of unconditional love for their daughter.

Even with their families' help, there were several hiccups and there is bound to be more in the long future. But at four months, Lin and Tenzin were now starting to get a little bit of a rhythm in caring for Meilin.

Tenzin returned to the island with Lin's favorite pastries, and he expected that she's either feeding the baby or putting her down for a nap.

What Tenzin did not expect was Lin napping in the chair beside the bassinet. With her breasts fully exposed. He made sure to swiftly close the door behind him so no one else could see his view. His body reacted instantly to the sight of fuller breasts. They hadn't been intimate since before Mei was born, and Tenzin wasn't going to force Lin to cater to his desires.

Glancing at the bassinett, Mei slept contently without a worry in the world. Tenzin smiled and mouthed "I love you, sweetie."

Reaching for the sky blue blanket, he draped it over Lin protectively. The movement of it coaxed Lin out of her nap, and she groaned groggily. Tenzin knelt beside her and kissed her cheek.

"Hi Tenz..." Lin yawned.

"Hi love." Tenzin pursed his lips out for a kiss. "You fell asleep without your shirt on."

"No, I did it on purpose."

"Why?"

"She keeps pulling my shirt down and I'm tired of whipping out my boobs 50 times. It's just easier without a shirt," Lin answered, wrapping the blanket around herself.

"...Can you do that tonight for bed?"

Lin rolled her eyes and lightly kicked him. "They're not for you right now."

"They were mine before she was born. Getting fed by Mommy is temporary, but pleasure is forever."

Lin laughed. "Where do you come up with this?"

"I'm very intelligent."

"Right."

The baby whimpered and slowly, the whimpers became gradual cries. Lin shifted in the chair, her maternal instincts kicking in full swing.

Tenzin stood instead. "I'll get her, Lin." And his wife surrendered to his help, smiling when he effortlessly picked up their baby. Mei wriggled in his arms at first, but her cries didn't subside. "Hi honey. It's Daddy. Shhhh, what's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?"

Mei smacked her lips and moved her head toward his chest.

Lin sighed and threw off the blanket. "See? I told you not wearing a shirt is easier." She extended her arms out and brought their daughter to her breast. Lin winced for a moment as the cries immediately subsided with eager gulps and breathing. "Kid, I just fed you like an hour ago."

Tenzin chuckled and settled with observing the unbreakable mother and baby bond in front of him. Lin stroked the thick Beifong hair their daughter inherited from her. A baby hand reached up and rested on her breast and Lin grasped the tiny hand lovingly. Peering up, Lin noticed the dazed expression in her husband's eyes.

A smirk. "You wish this was you, huh?"

"It will be me. At some point."

"Yes, at some point." Lin extended her leg out to him. "I miss you inside of me."

"No need to rush if you're not ready."

Lin pouted. "That's not the problem. It's the fact that I'm so exhausted and achy all the time."

"Still so impatient." Tenzin moved closer. "Right now, I'm more curious what your milk tastes like that gets her looking like this."

Lin peered down.

Mei was drunkenly sleepy, eyes rolled back and a small smile on her face.

The parents giggled.

"You can try it after she's done."

"Okay...wait, what?"

Lin stared at him. "You can try it after."

"...Oh...ok."

"Are you not curious anymore? It tastes sweet."

"Now I'm intrigued."

"She's almost done I think, so just be patient."

Mei eventually stopped drinking and Lin slowly unlatched the baby. Grabbing the burp towel, Lin rubbed and patted her back until she heard a burp. With their baby back to her nap, Lin and Tenzin faced each other.

"..So how shall we do this?"

Lin grasped his hand and pulled him to the bed. "I want to be comfortable." She forced him to sit down and then she crawled on his lap, thighs settling beside his hips.

A moan escaped Tenzin at the weight momentarily pushing on his dick. Lin smiled slyly, snaking her arms around his neck. She adjusted her weight and Tenzin dug his hands into her hips, massaging her postpartum curves.

"Hi," Lin whispered.

"Hi," Tenzin parrotted, gazing up into the softest green eyes. Lin kissed him and he knew that was her signal to indulge in his curiosity. He pressed a kiss in her cleavage, then trailed open-mouthed kisses along her skin until his mouth found her nipples.

Lin hissed lightly as he sucked and--

Cough! Cough!

A gush of milk squirted to the back of his throat and several spurts splashed Tenzin and Lin.

Lin laughed, patting his back just like she does to Mei when she chokes on it. "Take it easy. And don't waste your daughter's milk."

Tenzin's cough died down, tongue licking his lips at the drops of milk. "I didn't know it could just squirt out like that!"

"That's why your kid chokes. Or it's because she acts like I starve her." Lin raised a brow with curiosity. "Well? How does it taste?"

"It tastes really good. I understand why she loves it."

"It's sweet, right?"

"It's....heavenly. Of course my wife has the best milk."

Lin rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"I make that same milk drunk face, except you take my cream." Tenzin's smile dropped for a moment when another small wave of pleasure pressed into his groin.

Lin bit his lip. "Then give it to me."

[ask-laito-sakamaki-rp]

The girl from the occult club giggles and suppresses a squeal as Laito kisses her cheek, bouncing on her heels with joy; then, taking a deep breath, she sweeps a hand over her face, and stares at Laito with the solemn gaze more suitable for a manipulator of the dark arts. The price has been paid. The boon is to be delivered. She pulls out a plastic milk crate from somewhere, unfolds a starry cloth and drapes it over the crate, then kneels before it, laying out three cards.

She turns over the first card. It depicts a man in a crown holding a helmet and a flag that reads 'pax.' It's upside down. Here's your past: The King of Disks, reversed. In the past, you looked like you had it all. Money, power, peace.. but all was not as it seemed. While you stood strong to present a good face to the world, you were paying a terrible price that no one else knew about - something that protected you, and perhaps protected the people you care about, but also left you with false hopes that soured your heart. The king of disks is a treacherous man, a schemer. But even schemers can have their place…

She turns over the second card. It depicts a tower being struck by lightning, people falling from its windows. Here's you present: The Tower. Whether you know it or not yet, things in your life are changing, and in a major way. The old order is upended; the false schemes and temporary appeasements that came with the King of Discs couldn't last forever, and this is the time in your life - now, or very soon - when those things will fall. This might feel like a disaster; it might feel like liberation. It will very likely feel like both. But no matter what you feel, it is a new beginning.

She turns over the last card, and smiles. It depicts a maiden holding a sleeping lion's head. Strength… the maiden's kindness is what keeps the beast in check. Harrowing though it will be, destiny has determined that you can rise from the ashes of the tower to discover a strength in yourself that you did not previously know you had: the strength of compassion. This may be compassion for others, but it will likely also be self-compassion. Bolstered by this compassion, you will find newfound belief in yourself - either for your own sake, or the sake of those you care about - and find courage that you did not previously know yourself capable of. You may never be able to forget your past, but you will find new power to rise above it when you wake up one day to discover that you are who you want to be. *Kneeling before the cards, she stares at them for several more seconds, chewing her lip.* Um. That's it. ... I hope you liked it!

He tilts his head to the side, seeming serious as he takes in her words.

….Hm. Interesting~…

[blankspacebye]

Love doesn't need to feel like love

This is not a months-long research, nor am I desperately searching for you— mentally and physically wounded — to find out what, how, and why you can always be mentioned in all the prayers that follow the universe’s blessings. The click of my turbulent keyboard is louder than the rumble of longing. I endure a fanatical love while the shadowy scroll of your almost melancholic smile plays across the nerves of my brain. The final closure is from my attempt to take on the role of mother to teach you how to spell. I think you can find love anywhere, but the warm home I want is only in you.

The Greeks had eight words for different types of love and we question whether love should be thrown around so loudly. For me it’s as simple as the digital images and fragments we send each other, “it’s you”, “we”, or the occasional “do you want me to make you coffee?” followed by “oh, you don’t drink coffee, go for teabags instead, or do you prefer milk?”, the endless grocery lists and random account numbers your mom asks you to jot down, “I’ll be home soon, do you need anything?”. It’s not a research journal, but I’m not talking out of my ass.

Shoelaces that spell infinity in their loops, something from your youthful version of a beautiful forever without a care in the world for the existence of the word temporary. Growing up means you have to keep getting up after every meltdown. You have to scream at the top of your lungs and hide in the bathroom. You have to keep talking to yourself with your head almost broken, “It’s okay, you did well. Let’s try again tomorrow”.

Among the violent history of humans who have no manners, the stories where heads find shoulders to mourn, the insolent actions of demon-friended tongues who try to forcefully interfere in your affairs. I hope you continue to find the forgiveness to forgive yourself again. I hope you continue to choose life again and again.

Oh, who says you always have to lose? You can be tired, even through the days when it seems impossible to breathe, you find a way to be a breath of fresh air to y(our) lives that are on the brink of death. A thread of help is brought into existence through your generous hands. Today you are the red rose that blooms above the entrance to the cursed house.

I’m not in a state of research. Several times I’ve exchanged my thoughts with humans who are in love “what’s the reason you like him?”, “what part of him do you like?”. Maybe someone on the other side will answer simply that seeing you laugh makes her happy, or maybe she needs to shiver first, needs to unravel the emotion so she can say I love you. Ans today, let me help convey the feelings of those who are reluctant because the wet blur has blocked their view.

Love will knock on my door on a summer night with neatly trimmed hair. Love will be born in the month of April and have the star sign of Aries. Love will wear her favorite color all the time and carry burdens in her hands willingly. I thought I knew exactly what l o v e looked like. But no, not quite.

Love does come in summer— just not at night. Love is not clean-cut, love’s hair curls and is soft, long, and messy. Love isn’t an Aries, love isn’t born in April; love is born in every month, day, and year just right I wish you a long life. Love exchanges “I love you” with different people because love is you in kindness. And love? love is your mother’s favorite, without a doubt, that woman talks about love like her own child and I listen I watch I see and I believe.

And as if your name wasn’t something very special, but when the letters of your existence died on the tip of love’s tongue, I felt like being embraced by your mother for the first time. Love, why do you radiate so much love?

The pain you’ve incurred along the way will be overgrown by hundreds of flower arrangements. If it’s a happy meeting, the whole world hopes that your happiness never leads to forgetting, about this day, about all the buried memories and tears, and about the old version of you before you could stand tall. All I know is that you are unbelievably beautiful, you truly are half of perfectly. One day you will not only leave behind a trail of flourishing flowers but also a heart that is drenched in the brightest of colors by your lively laughter. I pray for the wounds of your body that may not have healed yet, for when those of us who can still be together with everything on the right and the left as it is; take care, and stay tight.

For all the good prayers, aamin.

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

This Woman's Work VIII (An Alcina x Female Reader Fanfic)

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part IX

You allow yourself a moment. Just one. But then you feel anger and hatred for Mother Miranda swirl within your chest. How dare she. How dare she take your child.

You don’t even bother to put on your slippers. You just head out the door of your bedroom. You almost make it to the front door when you hear Cassandra call, “Maman?”

Damn. You were so close, too.

Cassandra walks over to you with a suspicious look on her face. “Where are you going so late at night?”

You might as well tell her the truth. You explain to her what happened and by the end of the explanation, Cassandra looks as livid as you feel. “That bitch..” she hissed. “I’ve always hated the pull she has over Mother. When I am through with her, she’ll wish she had never crossed House Dimitrescu.”

“Cassandra, I need you to stay here.”

“Maman-”

“Please, Cassandra dearest. Listen to me. We haven’t much time.” You gently lay a hand on Cassandra’s cheek. “The more time we spend arguing, the further Mother Miranda and your sister get away from us. I’m going to get help from Heisenberg. You stay here and figure out a way to wake your Mother up.”

Cassandra looks like she wants to argue more but in the end she relents. “Fine, Maman. But you better come back.”

“I will.” Then Cassandra surprises you by giving you a big hug. Out of all your daughters, Cassandra had taken the most time to warm up to you and she was never the most physically affectionate person. You can’t help but be moved as Cassandra holds you close.

Cassandra finally lets go and you give her a weak smile as you turn to the castle door and head out. She materializes into her bug form to warn her other sisters.

However, you had been lying to her. You weren’t going to see Heisenberg. You were going to confront Mother Miranda herself.

Suddenly a memory comes unbidden to you. Something about resurrecting Eva and a ceremonial site..

Blood roars in your ears as it finally dawns on you what Miranda has been planning all along.

“Fffffffuck.”

You don’t think. You just run. You are just in your dressing gown and it is the dead of winter but you don’t care, even as the impact of the cold snow on your feet sends shivers up your spine. Cracks from the cobblestones cut open your feet and as you run you leave a trail of blood as you run pell-mell through the village to the ceremonial site.

Once you finally arrive, the soles of your feet are a bloody mess and your swollen breasts are burning from not being able to feed your baby. You step inside the ceremonial grounds and you see Mother Miranda sitting next to what looks like a sacrificial altar. Ecaterina is suckling contentedly at her breast.

Mother Miranda looks up and a smile blossoms across her features. It would have been breathtaking if you didn’t notice the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Y/N! I was worried you wouldn’t make it! Please come in!”

You step inside. You have so many things you want to say to her but the words die in your throat. You just make strangled sounds.

Mother Miranda ignores this and turns back to Ecaterina. She is practically glowing as she places a small kiss on Ecaterina’s forehead. “Isn’t she just perfect? My daughter. My Eva.”

Ecaterina removes her head from Mother Miranda’s breast and coos. At the sound of your daughter’s voice, you feel a painful twinge as your breasts start leaking milk. You try to school your features in a smile that you know looks ghastly. “Mother Miranda? May I have my daughter back? Please?”

Mother Miranda gives you a pitying look. “Oh, you poor girl,” she says, her voice dripping with condescension. “Are you still operating under the illusion that this child is yours?”

Mother Miranda gently sets Ecaterina down on the altar. Every fiber of your being is screaming to run and get your child, but you know Mother Miranda is unhinged. You have no idea how she will react and she could very well hurt Ecaterina in the process. You can’t risk that.

“Oh, you brought her into the world, of course,” Mother Miranda continues making her way to you. A beam of moonlight casts a lurid gleam on Mother Miranda’s headress. “And for that I will always be grateful. But she simply doesn’t belong to you.”

Mother Miranda stops in front of you. She suddenly catches her face in between her hands, the claws from her gauntlets digging painfully into your cheeks. “Don’t get conceited, you little bitch,” she hisses. “An outsider like you has no place within this family. The Four Lords and I have a bond between us you can’t even fathom. Especially Alcina.” She gives you a wicked grin.

You wish you didn’t give her the satisfaction as the mere mention of your wife’s name makes you inhale sharply.

“Come now, Y/N,” Mother Miranda says. “You can’t possibly think that Alcina loves you, do you? Not in the way she loves me of course.”

You can hardly breathe as Mother Miranda runs her fingers down your cheek, leaving deep gouges in her wake. “Poor Y/N. Not even realizing that you’re just a placeholder. Alcina’s devotion will always first and foremost belong to me.”

You finally manage to speak as you give Mother Miranda a look of pure loathing. No need to hide it now. “Then why did you drug her, you cowardly bitch?”

“Well, I knew she’d be upset after she knew I killed you and took your daughter, but I think eventually she would see reason and that it was for the good of the family.” Mother Miranda’s features twist in a maniacal grin. “Tell me, has she ever called out my name while she’s fucking you?”

“That is quite enough, Mother Miranda.”

You whirl around and see your wife. Her beautiful face is a mask of rage as she advances further into the room. “How dare you? How dare you take my daughter and threaten my wife?! After all my years of service to you?? After everything I have given up for you?!”

“Oh Alcina, don’t be so melodramatic,” Mother Miranda says with a bored expression. “Besides, is that any way to talk to your mother, my favorite?”

Something seems to snap in Alcina. She stands immobile like a statue and there is a glazed look in her eyes.

Mother Miranda holds out her arms. “Come to Mother,” she croons.

Alcina walks over to Mother Miranda’s side. You feel bile rise up in your throat as you see Alcina take Mother Miranda in a passionate embrace. Alcina’s lips move over Mother Miranda’s hungrily and Mother Miranda smiles against them, chuckling humorlessly.

Alcina this is wrong, you scream silently in your mind. You know it’s wrong!

Finally, mercifully, the two break apart. Alcina’s lipstick is smeared all over Mother Miranda’s mouth and it looks like blood. “Alcina, dearest?” Mother Miranda asks loftily.

“Yes, Mother Miranda?” Your heart breaks at the love and devotion shining in Alcina’s eyes as she gazes down at Mother Miranda.

Mother Miranda waves a lazy hand in your direction. “Dispose of her, would you?”

Alcina turns around to face you. “Alcina?” you whisper as she advances towards you. You see no recognition in her golden eyes as she unsheathes her claws. Before you can say another word, she has rammed her claws into your side. She pulls back her claws as you fall to the ground. Blood is already spreading in a thick puddle around you on the floor.

“Good girl,” Mother Miranda praises.”You’ve made Mother very happy.”

Alcina finally seems to come back to herself. She looks over at your still figure and turns to Mother Miranda in horror. “What did you make me do?” she whispers. When Mother Miranda doesn’t answer, she stalks over to her and shakes her violently. “What did you make me DO?” Ecaterina begins to cry.

“What needed to be done,” Mother Miranda replies with no inflection. She gives Alcina a gentle smile and wipes the tears running down Alcina’s face. “Besides, that girl was standing in the way of our happiness. You know I’ve always loved you best.”

Alcina’s breath hitches in a sob. “I know, but-”

Mother Miranda pulls Alcina close in a hug. “Shhh. She was only temporary, Alcina. We are forever. Besides, with her gone we can finally raise Eva together. Would you like that?”

Alcina nods her head slowly. “Y-yes.”

Mother Miranda holds out her hand to Alcina. “All you need to do is take my hand and we can start a new life together.”

Alcina reaches out and takes Mother Miranda’s hand. With her other hand she rams all five feet of her claws through Mother Miranda’s heart.

Mother Miranda coughs up blood and gives Alcina a look of pure shock. “Alcina- I don’t understand- Why-”

Alcina pulls Mother Miranda closer and Mother Miranda gives out a yelp of pain as Alcina’s claws dig further through Mother Miranda’s back. “I don’t want to see you anywhere near my family again,” Alcina says in a low voice. “Do you understand me?”

“You can’t do this to me!” Mother Miranda shrieks. “I’m your mother!”

“You’re no mother of mine,” Alcina replies flatly. She swipes her claws from Mother Miranda, severing her torso from her midsection.

Alcina watches the light fade from Miranda’s eyes and then she rushes over where you are lying on the floor. Blood is flowing freely from the wound in your side. Alcina tears off strips from her dress sleeves to help staunch the blood flow but there is simply too much. Rags of her dress begin to pile up covered in your blood.

“Alcina? Jesus, what happened here?” Heisenberg walks into the ceremonial chamber and when he sees Alcina holding your still form he rushes over.

Mascara is running down Alcina’s cheeks. “Karl, I can’t get the blood to stop,” she sobs.

“We’ll get help. Where’s the little rugrat?”

Alcina points to the altar and aside from a little blood spatter from you or Miranda (it’s hard to tell), the baby is otherwise fine.

Your eyes flutter open suddenly. “Alcina?” you say sluggishly. “Why are you crying?”

“Oh, my dearest darling,” Alcina’ voice breaks as she takes your hand and holds it to her cheek. “What have I done to you?”

Heisenberg returns with the baby in tow. “Alcina we have to go. Now.”

“Karl?” You look over at Heisenberg as Alcina gathers you up into her arms. Your eyelids begin to flutter closed. “I’m so sleepy…”

“No, no, honey, don’t close your eyes just yet,” Karl pats your cheek affectionately. “We’re going to get you some help. Just hold on till then, ok?” “‘Kay,��� you say as you fall into a deep sleep in your wife’s arms.

[wandsandwheezes]

Regular | G.W

A/N // There are no warnings its pure fluffy fluff from your resident Barista, wishing that georgie was one of her regulars 👉👈

The back end of the Christmas period was always a deep and tedious slog, every single person was desperate for their caffeine fix as they shuffled in one by one. Working in a coffee shop was never your end game, it was just meant to be temporary while you settled in the city. Temporary turned to a year, a year turned to two and every winter morning as you threw yourself out of bed, rising way before the sun did you reminded yourself that it was only temporary. Something about the job made it bearable, you were lucky to work in a team that all got along but it wasn’t your coworkers that made each working day fun, it was the regulars.

Two years on the job and you soon knew your regulars on a first name basis, many stopping by for a chat with their drinks, others the tired workers of Diagon Alley, giving you a thankful but tired glance as they ordered their drinks. Each one of the staff had their favourite regular, but yours seemed to be the most obvious. 

You nearly dropped the jug of hot milk when you saw him first step foot in the shop. He was quite literally breathtaking; Tall, handsome and bright ginger hair, his smile made your heart melt and you recognised him from the papers as one of the owners of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, the stand out shop right in the heart of the bustling wizarding shopping landmark. You had to take a deep breath as you faced the machine when you realised you’d be serving him, turning back around to face him with a smile and a ‘can I help?’.

“A large americano with a bit of cream if you’ve got it, doll.” His voice was deep but was more velvety than any latte milk you could have steamed. You held onto the till to stabilize yourself as you listened to him, you’d come to know just the type of drinks people would order but with him you wouldn’t have placed it, his eyes were gazing over the drinks board above your head as he thought, giving you the opportunity to admire the freckles that littered the bridge of his nose. 

“I suppose I should also get a Large Gingerbread latte, my brother would kill me if I didn’t get him something sweet.” He flashed his smile again, it was pearly white and you knew that it was a grin that could have got him out of many caught-red-handed moments. You handed him his drinks, him handing over the galleons and you prayed you'd see his gorgeous smile again. 

The next day, on the grind again, that same morning slog that didn't want to shift. Honestly you felt like hell, every moment a slow, tiresome push to get you through the rest of your shift, until he walked in again. He had the same boyish grin that lit up the room, every step in his stride was cheerful. You thanked Godric that this breathtaking man had graced your morning once again.

"Same as before?" You asked kindly as he stepped up to your till, clearly taken back by the fact you remembered his order, nodding sheepishly as he pulled out his wallet, your eyes lingering on each others for just a second. 

Every day he came in while you worked, Coworkers even told you they hadn't seen him on your days off, leading you to wonder if perhaps it was you that kept bringing him back in. Perhaps that was too forward of you to think, surely a man of his command couldn't be besotted with a simple coffee shop girl. 

Four months of serving him had given you a lifetime of daydream material. He'd come in as usual, ordering his two drinks and paying with a smile. But today was different, the day was quieter, he got just the one drink but stood and chatted with you for what felt like hours. 

"I hope this isn't too forward of me but, you look absolutely stunning today." He spoke calmly, bringing the drink to his lips, taking a sip all while holding a knowing smirk, watching as your eyes avoided his gaze and your eyes widened with surprise. You were stood before him, messy bun, unforgiving uniform and not a hint of makeup on your face. 

"You take that back, George Weasley." You chuckled as you gently pushed his shoulder, causing his charming laugh to fall from his lips but he only shook his head, watching as you grew more flustered. 

"How about you let me take you on a date, seeing as we've already had coffee together." He raised his eyebrow at you, biting the inside of his cheek hopefully but all the while preparing for a gentle rejection. 

"I don't think it counts if I've made the coffee, but sure a date would be lovely." You felt your heartbeat's pace kick up as soon as the words were falling from your lips, unable to truly process the events that were happening. "I finish my shift in fifteen if you want to hang around, we can always talk a little more about our date."

The date with George went smoothly, after a few days of his planning you'd settled on a beautiful meal and he walked you home like a gentleman after an amazing night. You were so invested in date number one that the second came only a day or so later. You'd managed to convince him that a muggle mini golf date would be fun, George was surprisingly good at it and won the course fair and square. 

"I think you need to admit that wasn't your first game of mini golf." You joked, nudging him with your shoulder as you walked side by side. 

"It most definitely was, I just think it was beginners luck." He quipped back, your arm linking around his, making the smile on his lips grow wider. 

"You could go pro!" You joked

"Oh Yeah? Fred'll love that 'oh sorry freddie, yeah can't run the shop anymore, I've decided I want to be a mini golf professional'..." George returned stealing a glance as you continued to walk. 

Only when you were stood outside your house did you realise that the date was ending and every part of you wanted it to continue forever. As if George heard your thoughts, he had closed the gap between you, lips inches apart as he whispered, "Is this okay?" 

The second your lips touched it was better than any fireworks display, moving together like it was meant to be. He was meant to be. 

Even as your Boyfriend, and several dates later, George still came into the coffee shop, expecting his drinks (which you didn't make him pay for) but now also a kiss. Your job was never meant to be forever, but maybe George was so part of you was glad you stayed, if not for the regulars, for him.

taglist //@starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @vogueweasley @thisismynerdyself @pansydaisy @pigwidgexn

[kozutenshi]

"neh, tooru." he tilted his head to the side, looking at your figure arranging the pillows in your small makeshift house.

"i'll definitely marry you when we're older."

he chuckled at your sudden outburst, not coping with what you said. "what do you even mean by that?"

"well, marriage.. isn't that what happens when two people want to stay together in each other's side forever?" your unsure and confused expression made him laugh harder. the pout on your lips made him stop, patting your cheek with a soft smile on his face.

"well then, i guess i'm gonna have to get a ring ready."

BALAY BALAY

— "bahay-bahayan" in Filipino!

— a game played my two or more wherein the kids would act like a real family doing what a family does normally. literally in simple terms, playing house.

— used to play this with my cousin, two other friends, and my childhood friend. yes, my childhood friend was the dad and i was the mom.

sometimes, you wonder which events made things turn out to be how they currently were.

seasons change, and your years of stay in this world had been growing. the amount of times you told a lie or two, the amount of times you cried, laughed, burst out of anger; collectively, this was what our life was.

oikawa thinks the same way too.

the young man sat on the park bench, looking out to the beach of brazil. he should be in argentina right now, practicing the sport he loves, but ever since he got the mail, it was as if a part of him felt too empty to function. his team gave him a week off, and he found himself going back to brazil reminiscing.

he thumbed the gold letterings, almost wishing the letter came with your scent instead of the roses that made the contents painfully obvious.

of course he had opened it, the seal already broken enough to know that he had opened it several times. taking a deep breath, he held his tears back.

how did it come to this?

on the other side of the world, you waited for his answer, the man you stuck with since children. it had been days since the mail was reportedly received. you were nervous, gulping down a lump on your throat to his lack of response. warm arms wrapped you from behind, kissing your temple. "hasn't he replied yet?"

his hand took yours, playing with the ring he gave you and drawing slow therapeutic circles on your skin. you smiled sadly at your fiancee, before shaking your head and melting into his arms. "nope. aren't you supposed to be at work?" he chuckled sheepishly before picking up his things and kissing you tenderly. "yeah. i'm off now. i'm sure he's just preoccupied so don't stress yourself over his response, yeah?" you nodded, sending him off with a loving smile which he returned.

as the door closed, your eyes went back to the laptop screen, begrudgingly thinking of your work before sitting down and continuing it. you didn't know what time it was when you finished, but it was probably an hour or two already when the doorbell rang.

lazily, you stood up and opened the door to find oikawa standing at your doorstep. "yo, n/n-chan." your eyes showed your shock and your body froze, before you relaxed and chuckled. "yikes, i'm hallucinating," you muttered under your breath before closing the door in his face.

"you know.. i'm flattered that you think of me that much that i can be a hallucination.. but for real, i'm 100% human, no alien stuff here."

the "I can't believe you're here" face you had made him chuckle, opening his arms for you to fall into. your scent was familiar, your warmth, your smile, until you dissolved into sobs. frantically, he moved away from you and wiped the tears off tenderly with shaky hands. "what? why are you crying?!"

"tooru! why weren't responding to me?" he chuckled nervously, knowing full well that telling the real reason will complicate things. "i wasn't sure what to answer just yet so i decided to discuss the matter with my coaches first. sorry, n/n-chan. now, can you stop crying, princess?"

it was painful to lie to you, but if it is for what's better, then he'd do it. "don't call me that." you urge yourself to move away and invite him into your apartment shared with your fiance. his eyes scanned the loft, noting the things that mirrored your personality on every shelf, every wall.

"how long have you been here in japan?"

"this is my third day. i'll go back tomorrow."

"ah, i see. then shall we spend the day together?"

"yeah. i did meet the three guys yesterday. it's your turn."

you placed the bowl of chips in front of him, urging to eat while he raised his eyebrows in question. "why didn't you invite me?"

"better question. why are you eating chips this early?" you shrugged, shoving a piece or two into your mouth. "it's not that early. it's like, almost noon."

he rolled his eyes and started eating. the silence stretched on but it was comforting. his eyes raked on your figure, how you were still the same, but different. as if a part of you stayed, the other changed.

"oh yeah. i have to go to that volleyball thing to help takeru with his plays. wanna come with?"

"takeru, as in my nephew?"

"yeah, who else?"

"there are tons of takeru's in this country, y'know."

you shrugged. "well you have no choice. you're coming with. say cheese to the camera. i'll tell my fiancee about you suddenly being here." raising your phone, you snapped a photo to your fiance, telling him you'll spend the day with tooru which he agreed with a "take care" message.

oikawa watched your lips curve to a smile, the same one he fell in love with, only to realize it wasn't for him. was he hurt? no.

numb. that's what he was.

the two of you passed by your previous school, onto the training grounds reminiscing stories after stories. with a pouting takeru, the three of you watched the smaller children train, a fond smile on your face. a small little girl stumbled to you with tears. "mama?"

oikawa saw how petrified you looked for a second before you sat down and tried to ease her. he then recalled how the two of you used to play, hand in hand, eyes to eyes. he sat beside you, patting the head of the child lightly which she seemed to like.

you watched how he calmed her with no words, and how she went from crying to laughing in minutes. a fond smile was on your face when the mother came over and took the child.

"you two look good together. thank you so much for taking care of her."

"thank you but we aren't-"

"thank you. it was no problem ma'am!"

he waved a hand to the child who smiled at him and waved back. his smile was a genuine warm one, his eyes holding adoration, before they shifted to you. "what are you staring at, n/n-chan?"

you shook your head. "i just wondered where you got your skills in calming down a child until i remember takeru."

"I didn't learn it from taking care of him, y'know." confused, you looked at him, his eyes looking somewhere far. "i learned it from you." he stood up, stretching and looked down on your sitting figure.

"c'mon n/n-chan. before they remember who i am-"

"excuse me. you're oikawa tooru, right?"

a highschool girl shyly stood with her group of friends, their phones clutched to their chests. somehow this reminded you of the days when he was innocently playing volleyball with iwaizumi, until a bunch of girls came from the vending machines, clutching boxes of milk in different flavors, some holding milk bread in their hands. you deadpanned when you realize they were holding out their phones for you to take their picture.

"tooru. you better treat me food after this, okay?" he knew your look. the one that made him gulp and feel threatened. "yes, of course, n/n-chan."

and so he did, and before you know it, it was getting dark. the two of you were in the apartment, the credits rolling just like every other times the two of you bonded.

"today was fun."

it's always fun with you. "sure was."

now, unlike before, the silence was deafening. "have you ever wondered.. how things would've worked out if you did something different in the past?"

your question caught him off guard and he tensed up before he suck into the couch. "not really." a lie.

"it might weigh down on me too much if i did."

your chuckle came sad, a hint of pain under it. "i see." now the atmosphere was too quiet. the movie has rolled its credits, the TV flashing a selection of movies again.

painful. it was painfully obvious that something is wrong and you couldn't help but want to cry.

"do you.. remember-"

"will you come?"

your voice was unsure, shaky, loud, when you looked at him with tears in your eyes. "you will, right?" his heart cracked. he knew this would happen already. he flashed a soft smile before taking you in his arms.

"of course i will. it's the wedding of my favorite n/n-chan after all. besides, you know i.."

he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his thumb wiping your tears gently. there was something lonely about his movements, the way he caressed you, as if saying 'this is the last time', or maybe a temporary goodbye. he held you closer, his warmth enveloping you.

"i will always be there."

TRAVELLERS: @doodleniella @kenmakodzu @lyzzklm @mfcassandra @oikaw-ugh @seijohlogy @thesecondapplepienation

[guacameowle]

Random Storytime!

February 14, 2020 is the 23rd anniversary of my becoming a vegetarian! 

Most people wouldn’t have this day memorized; it’s not as though I actually celebrate in any way. The only reason I remember is because how I became a vegetarian happened in such a ridiculous way (& semi-traumatizing for myself as a child) that it has remained a very vivid memory of mine to this day. 

When I was in 2nd grade my family up & moved across the country to Texas. As we settled into our new home, my mom took up a temporary job as a substitute teacher for the school district my older brother & I were enrolled in.

On February 14, 1997, a Friday if I recall, my mom happened to be the substitute teacher for my 2nd grade class (Cheers to my 2nd grade teacher for ditching her class of children to leave a whole day clear to get dicked down for Valentine’s Day. Respect.). This wasn’t the first time my mom had been my substitute teacher (my hometown was very small at the time) so I didn’t think it would a day different from any other.

Our teacher had left us with a bunch of busy work - random worksheets to fill out, drawings to finish, stories to read. My mom wasn’t required to teach any lesson plans, just to move us from one task to the next after a set time. 

One particular worksheet required that we “connect the food to the animal it comes from.” The left column had various foods (eggs, hamburger, steak, sausage links, chicken nuggets, & a ham) & the right column had a few animals listed (cow, pig, chicken, ostrich, & horse). 

What kinda fucking worksheet????

Should have been easy-peasy, right? Yeah, the rest of my class thought so as they were all zooming through the worksheet without being confused as fuck like I was. I spent a good few minutes sitting in my chair looking around at my classmates & back down to my paper several times, wondering why nobody else seemed to not need any help. After a while I thought maybe since I was new to the class, as I had only recently moved to Texas, that I had missed the lesson explaining this concept. 

No big deal. I’d just go up & ask my mom since she was my substitute teacher that day. I brought the paper up to the desk where my mom sat, handed it to her & said, “I don’t understand.” She took one quick glance at the page & simply repeated “connect the foods to the animals they come from.” Blink blink. Blink. Yeah, I can fucking read, mom. Thanks. What does that mean exactly? I asked again, “What does that mean?” My mom took a pencil & drew a line connecting the hamburger to the cow on the page. My exact words to her were, “A cow poops a hamburger?” 

I will never forget the look on my mom’s face when she fucking realized she had never taught me what meat or animal products were or where they came from, particularly how they were obtained. ‘Oh shiiiiiiiiiiit’ doesn’t even being to cover that expression she wore.

Now, at this point, I should make it known that by the age of 8 years old I was deadset on becoming a veterinarian; it was all I had wanted to be since I was 3 years old (at the age of 25 I officially became one, heyoooo!). I loved animals more than anything else. I had once beaten the shit out of my older brother because I saw him try to kick a pigeon - I went into a blind murderous rage! Even after my dad had pulled me off of him & held me upside down I didn’t stop swinging & kicking. Point being - I LOVED ANIMALS MORE THAN ANYTHING. I would never do anything to hurt them. 

My mom wasn’t gentle when she dropped the earth-shattering knowledge on me that some animals were used for human consumption. 

“No, a cow doesn’t poop a hamburger. The cow is killed and cut up for meat to make a hamburger. *she draws a line from sausage links to the pig* Sausage comes from pig meat. *she draws a line from chicken nuggets to the chicken* Chicken nuggets are made from chicken meat. *she draws a line from eggs to the chicken and ostrich* Birds lay eggs, some kinds that we eat. *she draws a line from the ham to the pig* Ham comes from pig meat.”

Here is where I finally overcame my absolute shock & horror at all this new information that had been thrown at me about my precious animals... & broke down crying, very loudly, then proceeded to run out of the classroom because I remembered that my dad had packed me a ham sandwich intended for lunch that day. Wasn’t fucking eating that anymore. Nope.

My mom gets a neighboring teacher to look after the class & goes off after me. It was easy to find me, just had to follow the noise of the wailing & sniffling little girl in the bathroom stall.

I don’t exactly remember how she coaxed me out of the stall back into the classroom, but I do remember yelling at her that I thought her & dad were liars & monsters for letting me eat animals & that I would never trust food ever again, lololol. 

She didn’t make me finish the worksheet. Years later she told me she finished it for me so I’d get the credit, but she figured I’d been traumatized enough.

Lunch time rolled around a short while later. I had a packed lunch that my dad had so lovingly made me, the monster-liar-animal-eater that he was! I refused to eat anything that was packed for me until I asked a bunch of questions about it. I sat with my mom in the classroom during lunch & pointed at everything that was packed for me & everything that she’d brought for herself, asking if it came from an animal & which animal. The only thing I’d deemed safe eating were my carrot sticks, some grapes, and my apple juice - but even then I was still suspicious. I glared at my mom the entire time she ate her own ham sandwich. 

On top of that, it had been Valentine’s Day! Everyone in my class had exchanged chocolates, my absolute favorite food! Which animal did chocolate come from? Monkeys? Penguins? Turtles? I didn’t fucking know! My mom explained it came from a bean grown from the ground, but that it was sometimes made with milk from cows. Alive cows that were only milked & not killed. I was suspicious & no longer had any trust in me, so I didn’t eat a single piece anyway. Do you know how it was for me to not eat any of the chocolate that day???? IT WAS THE HARDEST THING I’VE EVER DONE! 

It took me a while to come to terms with the fact that people ate animals. I was very upset & offended, but decided that just because they all did didn’t mean I had to! So, I became a vegetarian that day. My parents thought it was a phase, that I’d grow out of it. At first they joked that I liked meat too much to give it up forever. After a few weeks of that not working, they took me to a doctor to have him explain the importance of having a balanced diet for a growing child, but I didn’t care to listen. I did get sick a few weeks after that - surprise, iron deficiency! A different doctor helped me make a list of vegetables I needed to eat more of if I wanted to stay healthy. 

So that’s how I became a vegetarian; a shitty ‘connect the foods to the animals’ worksheet that traumatized me. A day that was meant for love was the day of my worst heartache. At the time it was horrifying, but now it’s become a funny family story my mom likes sharing with people. Occasionally she will randomly say “a cow poops a hamburger?” & laugh at me.

[curtishoney]

the twelve days of christmas

requested by @lemonypink: The twelve days of Christmas with Spencer Reid. So each day it’s cute Spencer-y things that go with Christmas

notes: merry Christmas everyone!! hope you’re having a great holiday season! I won’t be taking anymore Spencer/CM requests, but that will probably be temporary! I just don’t have much motivation to write for him or any of the BAU atm. also ik the 12 days of Christmas are during and after Christmas, not before but w/e. and non-BAU!reader

warnings: a swear word I think

On the first day of Christmas, you picked out a tree with your boyfriend Spencer.

You got it later than most people did because of your busy lifestyles. Spencer was usually in a different state every other week and you had work. But finally, the two of you were able to go since you were both off for the holidays.

After looking at what seemed like the hundredth tree, you found one. It was tall. But not too gigantic that it wouldn’t fit in your house. It wasn’t too wide either and was the perfect shade of green. You stopped abruptly, causing Spencer to almost trip because of your connected hands. But you hadn’t noticed, too busy staring at the tree before you.

“Found one?” Spencer laughed.

You looked at him and grinned, nodding eagerly.

On the second day of Christmas, you decorated.

After you cut your tree, you headed to Walmart to buy ornaments and lights to hang on it. You decided to decorate the tree the next day though. Rossi was hosting a Christmas party that night and you both knew you couldn’t miss it. Even though you weren’t on the team, you still hold a special bond with each of the members. And that made Spencer so happy.

Spencer and you spent the morning in bed together, wishing it would last forever. But then you really wanted to decorate the Christmas tree. So you and Spencer, though begrudgingly, left your cozy bed. You spent the next two hours hanging lights, candy canes, and ornaments on the tree. It wouldn’t have taken that long if Spencer didn’t trap you in his arms halfway through.

Not that you minded too much.

On the third day of Christmas, you and Spencer went with JJ and Will to take their kids to see Santa.

Henry was excited to see Santa and couldn’t wait. He held onto his parents’ hands, dragging them through the crowds of people.

The displays at the mall distracted you several times. Spencer thought it was adorable how childlike you became during the holidays. Your love of it was always shown.

On the fourth day of Christmas, you baked sugar cookies.

Sugar cookies were obviously a must during the holiday season. They were delicious and also fun to make. You and Spencer spent a couple of hours baking and decorating your cookies. And you made extra for all of your friends.

On the fifth day of Christmas, you made a gingerbread house.

It had been years since you’ve made a gingerbread house. Or tried to. You aren’t the greatest at it. The walls would never stay up or your decorations weren’t the best. You can’t say you’ve built a gingerbread house successfully.

Spencer didn’t really do these things growing up and you were excited to show him. He ended up making a better gingerbread house than you ever could.

On the sixth day of Christmas, Spencer read you A Christmas Story.

Thick layers of snow covered the ground outside. It was beautiful. At the beginning of the day, you and Spencer weren’t too sure of what to do. But then something caught Spencer’s eye. He walked over and picked a book from the shelf. It was A Christmas Carol. A classic.

Spencer sat down and patted the seat next to him, wordlessly telling you to sit down with him. You laid your head in his lap as he began to open to the first page of the book. With shut eyes, you absentmindedly played with the hem of your sweater. His smooth, gentle voice radiated throughout the room, sending you into a deep, warm slumber.

On the seventh day of Christmas, you made hot chocolate.

You’ve never made hot chocolate from scratch before.

The only kind of hot chocolate you made was from milk or water with hot cocoa powder. But you and Spencer were going to try it. And hopefully not fuck it up. How do you even mess up hot chocolate?

Well, apparently, you can.

The first attempt burned. Like almost-burned-down-the-house kind of burnt. Neither of you paid any mind to the boiling chocolatey concoction in front of you until it bubbled and burst everywhere. It was a mess.

The second time you put way too much sugar. It wasn’t bad, but you weren’t planning on getting diabetes anytime soon. You couldn’t speak for Spencer though who had his “sugar with a hint of coffee” coffee - as you liked to call it - in hand.

But the final attempt had been successful. Sweet, but not overly sugary. Not too watery or thick either. It was arguably the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had. And you would definitely be making more in the future.

On the eighth day of Christmas, you danced to old Christmas music with Spencer.

You carefully set your record down on the platter. Your favorite Christmas song began to play and fill the room. You took Spencer’s hand and guided him to your living room. The two of you began to dance and laugh, enjoying the night with each other.

On the ninth day of Christmas, you and Spencer built a snowman.

“Okay, what should we do today?” you asked, fiddling with the teabag inside your mug.

Spencer looked up at you from his book. “I’m not sure.”

“Hm, we could... build a snowman?”

“I’ve never done that before.”

“Seriously? Then we must!”

Setting your cup down, you dragged Spencer from his chair to grab your coats and walked out of the house. You began to build the body, occasionally throwing balls of snow at your boyfriend. He retaliated each time. Or, at least tried to. Sports or more generally any physical activity isn’t Spencer’s strong suit. So almost every shot he made at you he missed.

But in the end, you had built a snowman. Though it wasn’t really decorated with much other than with rocks for eyes and a mouth. It was still fun and you both enjoyed it.

On the tenth day of Christmas, you went ice-skating.

“This was a bad idea!” you said, trying to balance yourself on the ice.

Spencer grabbed onto your arm. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Both of you slipped and fell onto the ice. And it hurt. A lot.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, you watched Christmas movies.

After the ice-skating mishap, you and Spencer decided to stay indoors. The two of you rented Home Alone, Home Alone 2, Elf, and A Christmas Story. They were all classics, so it was a no-brainer. The entire evening was spent on the couch in each other’s arms, watching Christmas movies.

Every now and then Spencer would spew a fact he thought of about the logic and physics of it all. Ex: how does Kevin set all his traps up so quickly, it would take blah amount of time to do all of that, etc. You laughed, telling him he was thinking about it too much.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, you and Spencer exchanged presents.

It was Christmas morning and you practically dragged Spencer out of bed. All the presents were under the tree. Some were from family and others from friends. You decided to open your gifts to each other first.

Your gift was beautifully wrapped with a small bow tied onto it. The writing on it was messy and you recognized it as Spencer’s.

“It’s really pretty.”

“I, uh, had JJ wrap it for me,” he said anxiously.

Spencer hoped you would like his present.

You smiled, tearing the paper off. It was a sleek black journal with dotted pages.

“I know you always watch those bullet journal videos, so I thought I’d get you one.”

You hugged Spencer tightly. “Thank you, I love it.”

Spencer opened your gift for him after. It was the DVD box set of Doctor Who. Every season of it. He loved it. He pulled you to him, pressing his lips to yours.

“Merry Christmas, Spence.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

[laketaj24]

Sunrise

Author’s Note: I think I am still on hiatus, but I have emerged for temporary hats of my hiatus to indulge in Ubbe fics lol I hope you enjoy! This is pure fluff and it made me happy! Taglist open, Requests.... are open but there will likely be a delay. 

Pairing: New Dad Ubbe X Reader, Warnings: Fluff.

Requested: Daddy Ubbe waking up in his first day alone with the baby @lisinfleur

The light crept through the curtains. Morning seems to come earlier. Ubbe yawned softly as he maneuvered to stretch without moving the other half of the bed, for on the other side of the bed was his world. Ubbe was always destined to be a father, it was something he had yearned for ever since he could remember but the day was here now. The tiny nugget of a baby lay in the middle of the bed. Her tawny hands had captured his attention, one in her head of curls the other in the beside her. She was perfect and it was no other way he could see her. Ubbe turned on his side watching her do that little grunt he had coined his favorite sound from her. It was right before a cry but not fully there. He paused watching her little face crinkle with an oncoming fit. Shit. Cry.

His eyes leave her for a moment as he assesses the room in a near frantic. Long had he cared for the children when Bjorn had his lot. It came naturally for him, he was the best uncle Kattegat had to offer, but that wasn’t his role now. If a child cried he could no longer hand it off to his mother or Torvi like it was a product gone bad and demand a new one. He had to handle it. He didn’t know where you had gone, just that you weren’t beside him at the moment. Your keys were still on the white dresser, and your shoes were still in their coveted area near the door. The baby shifts and for the first time that day she opens her eyes. The new light to her makes her lip curl, eyes squint together in a line and then the cry comes. The one he had dreaded for a while. The little body started a squeal louder than he ever heard and Ubbe’s reaction was too small. There was his alarm. He pushed up from his comfortable position on the bed gently lifting the seven-pound prize from the bed. “hey little woman.” His face teamed with heat as the crying continued. Was he going to be able to do this? The wailing continued as he held her before him, he cradled her little head in the palm of his hand and supported the rest of her body with the other. “Hey, stop it now. Your knight is here.” You could hear him talking to her. His deep morning voice filled the apartment and that accent. You poured the milk into the bottle and placed the bottle in the warmer. All of your instincts told you to go back into the room. He does not know what the hell he is doing, but you wait. “Shh,” he nearly whispered. “I can sing to you.” And like it was nothing she calmed down at the sound of him singing to her. The tune of Wheels on the bus filled the air and the biggest grin forms on your face. Superdad he was indeed. There were several things attractive about Ubbe. The first for you were those Lothbrok eyes, passed down from his father, they gave all his emotions with just one look. The second would be the way he treats you, every day was the first date with him and you loved it. But now it was him with Annalise. It didn’t surprise you that he wanted to spend every waking moment with you during the birth. He wouldn’t move, held your hand… kissed your forehead. He breathed for you sometimes you even think. But at the first cry, he turned into her superhero. The doctors were working with you and immediately he stood at your head showing you the little masterpiece you both had created and soothing you and her. He turned into the perfect man. The chimer buzzes and you take the bottle from it. You sprinkle the milk on your forearm then shuffle back into the room. Annalise was staring at him as he sang to her. The little eyes were wide open and her hand in her mouth. “There she goes, the woman of the hour.” He smiled peering up at you. He cracked a smile and brought her into his arms. “She comes bearing gifts little woman.” “I was trying to beat her cry.” You move into the room taking a seat in front of him and hand him the bottle. “There you are.” “Thank you, mom.” He placed the bottle at her lips and she latches on hungrily drinking down the bottle. “This has to be the life my dad was always talking about.” “What life is that?” I move the short strand of blonde hair from his head as he looks down at her with pure admiration. “Cherishing every sunrise.” Your cheeks burn as the red feel them. He had to stop, you were way to hormonal for this. “You’re adorable, you know that right?” “I guessed.” He smiles at you and then he’s back on the baby. “I could handle waking up to this for forever.”

Taglist: @ivarsshieldmadien | @equalstrashflavoredtrash | @whenimaunicorn |@akamaiden | @siren-queen03 | @titty-teetee | @sparklemichele | @wilddrabble | @imgoldielikehawn | @greennightspider  | @kenzieam@tomarisela  | @scumyeol | @raindrop-dewdrop |  @naaladareia | @vikingsmania  | @readsalot73| @oddsnendsfanfics |  @amour-quinn | @wheredidallthedreamersgo| @unsure-but-trying  | @lisinfleur | @ceridwenofwales | @leaderradiante | @microsmacrosandneedles |  @valynsia  |  @captstefanbrandt | @therealcalicali | @lol-haha-joke | @b-j-d | @cinnabearice| @tephi101 | @grungyblonde | @ivarslittlebadgirll| @igetcarriedawaywithyou | @honestsycrets | @sunnyfortomorrow | @earthsmightiestasses | @sincerelysinister | @dangerousvikings | @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla |  @tgrrose | @tierneygonzalez | @ivaraddict | @alicedopey | @brownsugerhippy| @purplerain85 | @quaint-and-curious-being | @doloreschanal | @ilvebeenabad | @strangunddurm | @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol | @young-ugly-god | @blackspiritshake | @starrmoondaisy | @trailerthoughtstexas | @booyouwhore | @athroatfullofglass | @riottkatt |  @honeyofthegods| @car-karaoke  | @funmadnessandbadassvikings | @jennadoll19-blog | @khiraeth | @geekandbooknerd | @rabeccablake | @savismith| @boo-youwhoreeee-blog | @chinduda | @innerpaperexpertcloud | @crushed-pink-petals |@bewitch3dforivar | @pancakeboat | @mdlady | @ainatirb-j | @red-rose-21 | @isthat-tyra98 | @trashqueenbitch | @walkxthexmoon | @anunintentionalwriter | @millie67 | @lol-haha-joke | @eleventhdoctorsangel | @reeree1500 | @tamed–chaos | @queenbeeta |  @medievalfangirl | @fangrltiara | @artsyle | @fallslikefeather | @eclecticblkgirl | @pinkrockstar19 |

[wistfulcynic]

Across The Snowy Places (2 /5)

SUMMARY: Desperate to avoid another disastrous setup, Emma Swan tells her sister-in-law Mary Margaret she doesn’t need a date for Thanksgiving dinner... because she’s dating her neighbour, Killian Jones. The neighbour she tries to avoid but can’t seem to get out of her head.

Killian has been captivated by Emma from the moment they met, and he’s thrilled at this opportunity to get closer to her. But when they are trapped in a freak snowstorm in a room with only one bed, can he finally take the chance he’s been longing for, or will his actions drive Emma away forever?

In other words: TROPES GALORE

On AO3 | Chapter One on Tumblr

Thanks always to @thisonesatellite​​ and her boundless wisdom, enthusiasm, and insight ❤️❤️❤️

@kmomof4​​​ @shireness-says​​​ @snidgetsafan​​​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​​​ @snowbellewells​​​ @stahlop​​​ @mariakov81​​​ @courtorderedcake​​​ @jonirobinson64​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​​​ @shardminds​ @jennjenn615​ @superchocovian​

If you would like to be tagged or not tagged in future chapters, please do let me know!!

-

CHAPTER TWO: WEDNESDAY

The last day before the Thanksgiving weekend is always hectic and Emma doesn’t get home until nearly eight. She’s exhausted and starving and in a terrible mood, made worse by the lurking knowledge that tomorrow she’s going to have to get up early and spend the day in the company of Killian Jones. She’s standing in front of her empty refrigerator wondering if she dares to sniff the milk when there is a knock on her door. She opens it to find Killian leaning against the jamb, holding a bottle of wine and a white plastic bag full of something that smells incredible. 

“I hope you like Italian,” he says. “Wine and food.” 

“I do, to both, but I don’t recall inviting you over.” 

“No indeed, you’re terribly careless about issuing invitations. And you know nothing annoys people so much as not receiving invitations.” He chuckles to himself and she frowns. 

“Private joke?” 

“Aye. If you’re lucky one day I’ll explain it to you. Are you going to let me in?” 

She wants to refuse, oh how she wants to, but whatever he’s got in that bag is making her stomach rumble in delighted anticipation. “Well, since you brought food,” she says, stepping back to allow him entry.  

“And wine, love,” he reminds her, pushing away from the doorjamb with a liquid kind of grace that absolutely does not make her wonder what he’d be like in bed. 

He swaggers into the kitchen and sets the bag on the counter. “I didn’t know what you’d like so I brought several things,” he says. “I figured we could split whatever’s left.” 

Emma peers into the bag. “What have you got?” 

“There’s some lasagna, spaghetti carbonara, tagliatelle in meat sauce, and spicy chicken penne,” he says, removing the cartons and lining them up on the countertop.  

“Um, tagliatelle for me please.” Emma frowns as she spots the takeout menu tucked into the bottom of the bag. Carlotti’s. How he managed to choose her favourite meal from her favourite Italian restaurant is something she decides she’s simply not going to think about. 

“An excellent choice Swan, particularly as it leaves the carbonara for me,” Killian says. “Plates?” 

Emma retrieves two of them from her cupboard along with wine glasses, and Killian dishes out the pasta while she pours them both a glass of the Barolo he’s brought. Emma gives the wine a sniff as she carries it over to the stools at the end of the countertop where she sits to eat. She doesn’t drink red wine often but this one smells wonderful, spicy and rich, and she finds herself looking forward to trying it. 

She sits down and Killian puts a plate of pasta in front of her and hands her a napkin. She watches him as he settles himself on the stool next to her and gives her a smile.  

“You know you don’t actually have to date me, right?” she says. “It’s just for Thanksgiving. To keep my sister-in-law from setting me up with some horror show.” 

“Yes, I do understand that, Swan, but I thought if we’re to make this ruse believable it might help if we knew a bit more about each other.” 

“Oh.” Of course, she thinks. That makes sense. “I guess I thought we could do that on the drive there.” 

“Just how long is this drive?”

“Um, about two hours in good weather.” 

Killian quirks an eyebrow. “So you’re saying that everything I need to know about Emma Swan can fit into that narrow window of time?” 

“Well, yeah.” She twirls pasta on her fork, avoiding his eyes. “There’s not really much to know about me.” 

“I find that very difficult to believe,” he says. 

“Oh yeah?” She tries not to sound belligerent. “What makes you think that?” 

He takes a sip of wine, but his eyes never leave her face. “You’re a bit of an open book, darling.” 

She snorts. “I’m not.” 

“Oh, but you are. I’m a writer, I observe.” 

“You’re a writer?” 

“Indeed. A fact that my girlfriend should probably be acquainted with. Even if she’s only a temporary one.” 

Something flutters in her belly at the way he says girlfriend, and she takes a huge gulp of wine.

“I thought you were a teacher,” she blurts, to cover her nerves. “You’re always mentioning your students.”

“Aye. I’m a professor of maritime history, and of course writing is a big part of that.” He pauses. “But I write some other things as well.”

“What sort of other things?”

“Short stories, mostly.” 

“Mostly?” she presses, and a pink flush begins to creep across his cheekbones. 

“And some, er—poems.” He rubs at his neck, eyes fixed on his plate. 

“Is that embarrassing?” she asks, fascinated by this reaction. By this man who always has a smooth quip at the ready blushing like a summer morning. 

“It’s personal,” he replies with a small shrug. “And I don’t publish them under my own name so not many people know.” 

She wants to ask what name he does publish under, but he hurriedly changes the subject. 

“So tell me about whom I’ll be meeting at this Thanksgiving dinner,” he says. 

“Oh.” She thinks for a minute. “Well, there’s my brother and sister-in-law.” 

“Aye, so I deduced. Tell me about them.” 

“David’s my brother. Adopted brother, but—” 

“Aye, you’ve mentioned before that you were adopted. When you were fourteen?”

She nods, surprised that he remembered. “Yeah. Ruth, David’s mom, she was just supposed to be my foster mother, but…” she trails off, not certain how to explain the connection, the sense of home she felt when she moved in with Ruth and David. 

Killian smiles, a soft, understanding smile she’s never seen on his face before. “But once she met you she couldn’t let you go,” he murmurs.  

“Um, yeah, I guess you could put it like that.” Emma feels herself blushing now. “We just… connected.” 

Killian finds himself relating hard to this Ruth. One meeting with Emma was all it took for him as well. 

“She passed away five years ago,” says Emma, staring at her plate. “Cancer.” 

The sadness in her voice squeezes his heart. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “It was quick, which was a shock but at least she didn’t suffer. David and Mary Margaret had just gotten engaged when she was diagnosed, they actually threw together their wedding in less than a month so she could be sure to see them married. They’ve been together since they met in college. Love at first sight.” She gives another little shrug as if to say how ridiculous the idea is, but Killian sees the longing in her eyes.  

He resists the urge to take her hand, to offer her any kind of support or sympathy. He knows she would immediately reject it. Instead he concentrates on his pasta. “So David and Mary Margaret, and who else?” he asks. 

Emma gives herself a little shake and picks up her wine glass. “Um, probably Ruby, she’s Mary Margaret’s best friend. And whoever she’s dating now. The last time I talked to her she was crazy about this girl Dorothy who’d just moved to town from Kansas, but I have no idea if that worked out.” 

“Ruby and maybe-Dorothy. Check. Who else?”

“Mary Margaret’s stepsister, Regina, will be there. At least, MM will invite her and Robin will probably make her go.” 

“Robin?”

“Regina’s husband. Regina and Mary Margaret didn’t really get along when they were growing up. They were teenagers when their parents got married and I guess there was some jealousy there. Robin and David get along great though and they keep trying to heal the breach. They’ve been trying for years. Usually, Regina and MM grit their teeth and pretend everything’s okay during the holidays then ignore each other for the rest of the year. Except on their birthdays.” She grins. “Each year they try to outdo each other by sending the most elaborate birthday card. Regina’s are usually huge and like, gilded or something, while Mary Margaret makes hers by hand out of these tiny bits of paper. It takes her weeks.” 

Killian chuckles, imagining it. “Warfare by greeting card. I like it.” 

Emma joins his laughter and for a moment the small kitchen feels warm and intimate. Her face is soft with affection for her family, her cheeks pink from the wine. She’s so beautiful she steals his breath, and Killian’s fingers tighten on his wine glass. He takes a sip to steady himself. 

“Will anyone else be there?” he asks. 

Emma bites her lip. “Um,” she says, and there’s a note in her voice that has Killian’s attention sharpening. “I guess David’s friend Graham will probably be there.” 

“Is that a problem?”

She shrugs. “Graham and I dated a bit in high school. Sometimes I think David wishes we had ended up together.” 

“Do you wish that?” His voice sounds rough to his ears. 

She stares at her empty plate. “I mean, he’s a really nice guy and all and I liked him, but there was just never any— any—” 

“Any spark,” he finishes, and she looks up. 

“Yeah,” she says. “There was no spark.” 

There’s sure and bloody well a spark with him and Emma, though, Killian thinks. It fairly crackles through the air between them and makes the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand up whenever she’s near. He’s certain she feels it too and wishes he understood why she fights it so hard. He probably should have refused her invitation, invented some excuse to placate her sister-in-law and not perpetuated this situation that she clearly finds uncomfortable. Yet when presented with the opportunity to spend some actual time with her he simply wasn’t able to stop himself from taking it. Because despite her sharp tongue and stalwart defences, and the enthusiastic way she’s shut down every attempt he’s made to get closer to her, Killian is helplessly drawn to Emma Swan. She’s a fascinating puzzle, a tangled knot of soft feelings and prickly defences and he wants to unravel her. To know her. Hell, he just wants her. 

And right now, he wants to kiss her. Her eyes are wide and locked with his, her lips slightly parted and her pulse thrumming visibly in her neck. There’s a bit of pasta sauce on the corner of her lip that he wants to lick off before licking deep into her mouth. He leans closer, holding her gaze, giving her time to back away, to stop him. She swallows hard but doesn’t move, and his heart is pounding so fiercely he can feel it in his temples. His lips are a breath away from hers when the panic flares in her eyes and she pulls away, leaping to her feet and sending her stool tumbling over onto the floor. 

“Um, it’s, uh, getting late,” she says. “And we’ll need to get going pretty early tomorrow. So, ah, I think maybe you should go.” She doesn’t look at him.

Killian stands as well, shoving his hands in his pockets and forcing down his disappointment. “Do you want the lasagna or the penne?” he asks.

“What?” 

“I promised we’d split the pasta we didn’t eat. So do you want the lasagna or penne?” 

“Um, penne I guess.” 

He nods, takes the lasagna and puts it back in the plastic bag. “Keep the rest of the wine, too,” he says as he moves to the door. He pauses with his hand on the knob. “Ah, what time will we need to leave tomorrow?” he asks, holding his breath, half expecting her to tell him to forget the whole thing. He forces himself not to look at her. 

“Is eight too early?” she asks, after a pause so long he nearly begins to panic.  “That way we’d get there about ten and I can help Mary Margaret with the cooking. She wants to eat at about one.” 

He sighs, heavy with relief. “Eight is fine. I’ll see you then, Swan.” 

When the door closes behind him he leans against it for a moment, cursing himself. He knows better than anyone how skittish Emma is, but he can’t seem to stop himself pushing her, teasing and flirting with her. Trying to bloody kiss her. He makes a disgusted noise. You’ve got to stop thinking with your dick, mate. Remember you’re in this for the long haul.

On the other side of the door, Emma manages—barely—not  to pound her head against it and finally give herself that concussion. She wishes she could go back in time and give Mary Margaret a different name. Chris. Alex. Mike. Andrew. She can think of dozens of them now, now that she’s locked in to Killian with his damned gorgeous face and his eyes that see too much, the electricity that tingles across her skin whenever he’s near and his annoying habit of understanding her.  

And now she has to spend two hours alone with him in her tiny car, at a time of day when she’s at best half awake. When she needs to be alert and vigilant if she’s to stand a chance against this terrifying pull she feels towards him. Against that spark that if she let it could burn her alive. 

Damn it. 

-

[sonicrainicorn]

Logan Is Berry Done

The title was a stand-in but I couldn’t think of anything better, so...

For @sides-of-quotes-contest

Words: 1609 Prompt: click here TW: Alcohol

Hope you enjoy~

((This post now has its own AU! Check it out here.))

Logan was not one for parties. He tried to stay away from them as often as possible in order to avoid… humans. Humans were icky, complicated things with too much to share or too little personal space -- especially at a party. They were weird and Logan wanted to avoid them as often as possible.

The one time Logan was glad to have been dragged to a party was several years ago. He had just turned nineteen so his brother, Thomas, thought it would be a great idea to invite him to his first “grown-up party”. Logan tried to refuse. He spent days trying to get Thomas to take somebody else, but Thomas persisted. He wanted Logan to be with him (out of all other possible candidates).

Reluctantly, Logan ended up going.

At the time it seemed terrible. There were so many strangers at various levels of drunk. Logan didn’t touch any drinks no matter how many times it was offered to him; he saw no reason to. Most of the night he stayed by Thomas’s side while the other talked with friends about random topics. He did, however, leave to find the bathroom as a temporary means of escape from all the noise.

The party was rather crowded and Logan found himself having to squeeze between people in order to move around. After reaching the inside, he ended up tripping over something (someone?), but instead of falling to the ground, he crashed into a person.

“Whoa, you okay, buddy?”

Logan flushed. This stranger had caught his fall. “S-sorry.” He pulled himself together, but his hands lingered a second or two on the charming stranger’s arms. “I suppose I didn’t see where I was going.”

The stranger chuckled. “It’s no problem.” The next words he spoke changed both of their lives forever. “Well, since you just fell for me you should probably know my name, at least. I’m Patton.”

Several text messages, a risky question, and many dates later, the two ended up married. (Logan was the one to propose). Their wedding was the only other party Logan was glad to attend.

The two were more than happy to spend the rest of their lives together. They wouldn’t want it any other way.

Over the course of their marriage, Logan had tried his hardest to avoid going to any parties they happened to be invited to. Most of the time he ended up going due to Patton rivaling his stubbornness, but they never stayed long. Patton knew how Logan felt about human interaction. Logan would never admit it, but he fell a little more in love with Patton whenever he recognized he couldn’t stand to be in public anymore.

Unfortunately, Patton knew a lot of people which meant he got invited to parties rather often. Christmas parties, birthday parties, Halloween parties... Any date that was capable of celebrating Patton got an invitation to. He was too sociable and cute. People were just compelled to show that they appreciated his friendship the only way they knew how.

And Logan loathed it.

There wasn’t a reason that should be the social norm. There were other ways to say, “hey I like you as a person”. Flowers, maybe. There were certain flowers that meant friendship. A letter was also a good one. It would last longer and something that’s handwritten holds more sentiment. Anything but a stupid party.

For all these thoughts Logan was never mad at Patton for coming home with another invitation; a little peeved, sure, but never mad. He knew it was almost unheard of to deny an invitation simply because someone didn’t want to go. It wasn’t Patton’s fault that Logan preferred to stay away from any type of interaction.

Logan also knew that it was pretty much expected that the invitee should bring their significant other (or even their children). Which was why he was surprised when Patton told him he didn’t need to go to this one.

“I’m certainly not complaining,” was Logan’s response. “But may I know why?”

“It’s only a housewarming party for Alec.” Patton shrugged. “Since you hate being out of the house for long periods of time then why take you to a party that you wouldn’t consider important?”

Logan furrowed his brows. He thought he had met all of Patton’s coworkers by now. “Who’s Alec?”

“That’s another reason.”

So, Logan saw Patton off at around two in the afternoon. There were only a handful of times Patton had gone to a party by himself -- for legitimate reasons such as Logan being sick -- so Logan couldn’t predict when he would be home. While together, they’d leave a party an hour or two after arriving. Maybe three if Logan was feeling particularly sociable. Who knew how long Patton would decide to stay without Logan there like a phone battery losing charge.

That didn’t matter much, though. As long as it wasn’t an unreasonable hour and Patton was safe, that was all that mattered to Logan.

But by nine o’clock, however, Logan couldn’t help but wonder. He had never known for Patton to stay out this long before. He always made sure to be back in time to tuck the kids into bed. It was a little past that time now and Patton hadn’t even called. Patton always called. Even if it was for something little. He wanted things to run smoothly whenever he was away from the house for a significant amount of time.

So where was he now?

“When is Dad coming home?”

The sound of his son’s tired voice pulled Logan out of his worrying. He stopped pacing to face the twins waiting on the couch. They were both very tired but refused to sleep without their dad saying goodnight to them.

“I don’t know,” Logan responded. He noticed Virgil’s head snap up after drooping for a few minutes. “Are you sure you two don’t want to go to bed? Your dad could be out for a while.”

“No,” Roman whined. “I refuse.”

“Me too,” Virgil yawned.

Logan refrained from rolling his eyes. Their stubbornness was learned from somewhere, after all.

He sat down on the couch between them, deciding that his pacing wasn’t getting very far. He had called Patton twice but received no answer. It was both worrying and annoying at the same time. Why would Patton decide now of all times to be carefree?

Virgil rest his head on Logan’s arm as he began to drift off again. Roman didn’t seem like he was going to go down any time soon, but his father could tell that he was fighting to keep his eyes open. Maybe all three of them would end up falling asleep on the couch waiting for Patton.

The twins jumped when Logan’s phone started ringing. It was the stupid Spongebob Squarepants theme song -- Patton’s ringtone.

Logan answered with the full intent of berating Patton on his carelessness.

“Woah, hey, Lo. Logan. LoLo. Logi-bear. My precious little bumblebee,” Patton snorted. “I just fu… I just.” He laughed again. “I jus’ learned a science. Wanna hear?”

“You just…?” Logan was beyond confused. “Patton, are you drunk?”

“I ju-ust learned that men have milk-glands and can breastfeed if their nipples are sucked on for a few weeks!”

Logan didn’t want to know where Patton learned that. “Okay, so why was that the most important thing for you to call me for?”

“S-so when we have a kid --”

“We currently have two.”

“-- we’re both pitching in, milk boy. My cartgan of log-milk.” Patton started giggling to himself.

Logan’s first instinct was to walk into another room and scream, but with both of his sons gazing at him in confusion he felt as if that wasn’t the best idea. What he ended up doing was putting a hand over his eyes and letting a pensive sigh out through his nose.

At a lack of a verbal response, Patton spoke up in a cheerful sing-song voice, “Logan? You still there?”

To avoid actually screaming Logan hung up on him. He placed his elbows on his knees and pressed his phone to his forehead. There were no words for what he had just experienced.

“What happened?” Roman asked.

“Your father is an idiot,” Logan replied, his tone a mixture of exasperation and embarrassment.

He straightened out to dial another contact on his phone. There were several rings before the other side picked up.

“Hey, little bro!” The voice was cheerier than usual.

Oh God. “Thomas, are you drunk too?” Logan ran a hand through his hair. “I thought you said you would be the designated driver if it came down to it.”

“I said that?” Thomas sounded genuinely confused. “Oh, oops.”

“Hey, is that Logan?” Patton’s voice shouted in the background. “Ask him why he hung up on me!  Why would you do that to me, Logy-loo?”

“Patton said --”

“I know.” Logan sighed. “I know.”

“Wow. I have the smartest little brother in the whole world.”

“I’m hanging up on you now.”

Logan groaned and fell back against the couch. Once -- just once -- he wanted to not be the responsible one. Patton and Thomas were adults, too. They should be able to recognize that one of them would need to be sober in order to drive home. Now Logan was going to have to pick them up and leave Thomas’s car there. How annoying.

“Who wants to come with me to pick up your father and Uncle Thomas?”

And if you thought Logan wasn’t petty enough to show the whole party how Patton left his two ten-year-olds waiting in their pajamas to be tucked in, then you would be wrong.

[wanderingcas]

This week: Destiel in Canon!

[Thank you, everyone, for your wonderful submissions to Week 2 of Spn Fanfic Submission Thursday!! If you want to participate in next week’s fic submissions, check out the schedule!]

Totally Platonic Bunkmates by @braezenkitty

Five times Dean and Cas had to bunk together, and one time they didn’t.

“He could be an adult about this, it really wasn’t a big deal. He’d just keep to his side of the bed and face the wall, away from Cas. It wasn’t a problem at all. So why did his stomach feel like he just ate a handful of worms?”

Teen and Up. 5.5k words. (Complete)

[Sharing a Bed, Sexually Frustrated Dean, Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss]

Silver Lining by @darkheartinthesky 

After Castiel is severely injured during a hunt, Dean and Sam have a talk. Dean realizes what it is he really wants.

Teen. 6.5k words. (Complete)

Tags: Hurt Castiel, Caretaker Dean, Sharing a Bed, Supportive Sam

I Can’t Go On Without You by @destielonfire

Something is killing couples who participated in a secret Valentine’s Day ritual, leaving Dean and Castiel with no choice but to go undercover as a couple to investigate the murders. But when the ritual uncovers some long-buried truths, will this mean the start of something new between them?

Teen. 7.7k words. (Complete)

[Fluff & Angst, Sharing a Bed, First Kiss, BAMF Cas, Fake Relationship]

Wake Up by @destielmixtape

Dean is having a mental breakdown, and Castiel is the only one who might be able to help. Can Dean let down his guard enough to let Castiel in? Can he reconcile his feelings for Cas despite his own crushing insecurity? And can Castiel fight Dean’s inner demons without losing himself in the process? Will someone, anyone, please just use their friggin’ words?

Explicit. 58.5k words. (Complete)

[Fluff & Angst, Wing Kink, Grace Sex, BAMF Cas, Angst, Smut]

A Letter to Mom, from Dean by @hetaliankilljoy

Dear mom,

It’s me, Dean. Where are you? You’re an angel now, right? I don’t care about freckles, I just want you to kiss me once more please. I’m scared, can you sing me this song, that puts me to sleep, and helps me feel better when I’m sick? I miss you, mommy!

Teen and up. 3k words. (Complete)

[Songfic, Season 1-5 spoilers, love confessions, hurt/comfort, angst]

Heartbeat by @cardinaleyes

Castielsentries is a current canon blog that posts a new entry per day and has AU days, which is what this day was. This was written at the end of season 11 when Cas did not know if Dean survived Amara’s power. Soulmates can feel each other’s heartbeats.

Teen and Up. 1.2k words. (Complete)

[Canon Compliant, Season 11 finale coda, Cas POV]

This is Real by @compulsive-baker

Castiel and Sam return to the bunker after Dean confronts Amara. Castiel keeps his promise to watch out for Sammy after Dean is gone, but he can’t take care of himself as he falls into depression. His mental health is slipping, but Dean comes back to fix his angel.

Mature. 3.3k words. (Complete)

[Canon divergent season 11 finale, Smut, Tender Love and Care]

A Photo Booth and Funnel Cake by @deanisthebeesknees

Dean and Castiel end up at a county fair during a case. Dean shows Castiel the awesomeness of photo booths and fluff ensues.

Teen and Up. 1.9k words. (Complete)

[Fluff, county fair, photo booth, funnel cake, Shipper!Sam]

untitled by @woefulcas

Cas comes back human after the events of 12.23; Dean and Cas cuddle in bed. 

General Audience. .5k words. (Complete)

[Season 12 Coda, Warning for Extreme Fluff™]

Ignorance is Bliss (Usually) by @60r3d0m

Dean and Cas have a very public deathbed confession and officially become an item. And this would totally be thrilling—except Sam gets knocked out during the fight and misses the whole damn thing.

Or, the one where everybody except Sam knows and Sam thinks Dean’s sudden newfound celibacy is a witch’s curse.

Mature. 8.2k words. (Complete)

[oblivious!Sam, jealousy, Established Relationship, Miscommunication]

Ultraviolet by @mittensmorgul

The world seemed to be settling back into a somewhat regular pattern of supernatural activity after Sam officially rescinded the British Men of Letters American visa and Cas had moved into the bunker as a full-time Winchester. What seemed like a milk run hunt goes pear-shaped when Dean becomes the latest victim of a soul-devouring curse. Breaking the curse and saving his life only lead to a bigger mystery when someone unexpected steps out of the Impala and walks right into the middle of their case.

Mature. 8k/45k words. (WIP; posting a chapter a day)

[Case fic, Human Impala, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, First Time]

Holy, Holy, Holy by @deanirae​

There was a hell-hound gnawing at the bones of Dean’s legs, each bite a payment for Sam’s breaths. To the very end, Dean thought it was a good price. He was willing to pay. But the angel who listened had learned about the great plot of using a brave, righteous man to start a petty Apocalypse and sacrificed everything to ensure it would never begin. It was 2008 and it’s probably still Wednesday now and Cas is keeping Dean safe, away from Heaven, from Hell, from everything. Despite Castiel’s best efforts, everything remains pretty determined to either get its hands on Dean or just get him back where he allegedly belongs. But there’s at least four theories about where that is and Dean seems to be the only one who doesn’t have one. Most of the time he just feels something is amiss and he keeps wondering when it’s going to be Friday and if the purple dog is ever going to come back.

Explicit. 54k words. (Complete)

[Canon Divergent after 3.16, Angst, Unhealthy Relationships]

Warnings: Major Character Death, Uninformed Consent, Emotional Manipulation, PTSD

On The Inner Workings Of Non-Angels by @babybluecas​

The way it began couldn’t get more cliché: Dean kissing Cas in the rain as they turned their ‘goodbye’ into a bittersweet ‘see you soon.’ Three years later, Dean can hardly believe what his life has become: he’s a happy civilian, shacked up in the bunker with Cas. The whole messed up world seems to have left them alone, at last, and the worst things that ever happen to Dean are the rom-com marathons his better half tortures him with. Even Sam’s living his dream, back in law school.

A true happily ever after for all.

The problem is that those, in Dean’s experience, don’t last forever. So when Cas starts acting suspicious, with strange phone calls and daydreams and the walls of yellowed books rising around him, Dean has a full right to be worried. He’s no longer sure he could handle their perfect, little world falling apart.

But Cas, of course, says everything’s fine.

Mature. 39k words. (Complete)

[Fluff, Angst, Established relationship, Fallen!castiel, Post alt-season 9]

Forgotten Angel by @justrandomspnstuff​

Cas looked around his empty apartment remembering when he’d had a purpose, when he’d been someone. And he realized at that moment why he kept his angel blade–because it was getting harder and harder for him to convince himself that he hadn’t always been a nobody. Hadn’t always been a whore.

Explicit. 86.4k words. (WIP)

Prostitute!castiel, Slow burn, Angst, Bottom!cas

Warnings: Rape/non con, Self Harm, Drug Mention

Fives Times Dean Called Cas Sweetheart (As a Joke and the One Time He Meant It) by @profound-boning​

Delicious breakfasts, beer with dinner, countless movie marathons after Dean and Sam hooked up a television and VHS/DVD player in one of the sitting rooms, hot showers, the smell of clean laundry… Yes, Castiel definitely enjoyed a lot of little things about his new life with the Winchesters.

The chance to get closer to Dean certainly didn’t hurt.

General Audiences. 3.2k words. (Complete) [Men of Letters Bunker, Bunker Fluff, Human Cas, Miscommunication]

Then I Defy You Stars by @spearywritesstuff​

They won if you ignore what they lost. Lucifer was cast out and the Darkness departed, but they couldn’t save Cas. So Dean gave up. With the passage of time and Sam’s support, Dean makes a life for himself miles away from hunting and anything supernatural. He runs a planetarium and teaches classes on astronomy, because once, long ago, Cas told him that when the ancient heroes fell, mankind could still find them in the stars. Dean looks to the stars.

Explicit. 81.8k words. (Complete)

[Angst, Temporary Character Death, Canon Divergent after 11x18]

You Can’t Get Rid Of The Babadook (And Years Of Unresolved Sexual Tension) by @mijrake​

When the queer community accepts the Babadook as their new found icon, they accidentally create a Tulpa that starts killing homophobic people. Of course, Team Free Will rises to the occasion.

Explicit. 11.9k words. (Complete)

[Case Fic, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Bisexual Dean Winchester]

Arrow by @all-i-need-is-destiel​

In which Sam starts to act very weird all of a sudden, centering his entire attention on a certain blue-eyed angel, Dean doesn’t know what to make of this strange behavior and his own confusing feelings, Castiel just goes with the flow and Gabriel has got the time of his life.

Teen and Up. 7.1k words. (Complete)

[Friends to Lovers, Familial Love, First Kiss, Gabriel being a major douche]

helpless when the sky explodes by @envydean​

He’s been split up from his brother. Can’t even hear him, shout to him or anything. It’s like a part of him has been ripped from him and he sits in the corner of the cell, back to the wall and ass on the cold concrete floor. Food is shoved through a pass through but Dean doesn’t touch it, barely looks at it.

Mature. 5k words. (Complete)

[Suicidal thoughts, hurt/comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Fic]

Wardrobe Change by @phangirlpenguin​

Sam’s been jumpy around Cas ever since they defeated Amara. A wardrobe change may help, but how will it affect Dean?

General Audience. 1.6k words. (Complete)

[Fluff, Cuddling, Get-together, possible consent issues]

Hot Like Ice by @relucant​

“I… I can’t feel my toes. Or my fingertips. Is that bad?”

Dean swore under his breath. “Uh, it ain’t great, buddy. Can you move ‘em?”

Cas furrowed his brow in concentration. “I don’t know. It burns. Why does cold burn?”

“It just does, Cas.” He picked up Cas’ hand, and his fingers felt like ice. He peered at Cas’ face, and caught a tinge of blue on his lips. “Shit. OK, Cas, we might be gettin’ into territory where you think about usin’ some grace. Not on me, I always run a little hot, but you’re lookin’ like you’re gettin’ hypothermia.”

“I don’t think I can,” Cas said slowly. “There’s so little left, and I’m so cold…”

“Shit.” Dean scrubbed his hand over his face, then came to a decision. “Take off your clothes.”

Explicit. 3.8k words. (Complete)

[Fluff, First Time, Bed Sharing, Bottom Dean, Top Castiel]

A Night on the Couch by @caslikescoffeeandfreckles​

Dean and Cas get in an argument and it leads to one of them sleeping on the couch for the night.

General Audience. 1.7k words. (Complete)

[Gratuitous Fluff]

Cinnamon and Sugar by @liraelclayr007

Dean has feelings for Cas, but he is afraid to show them.

Cas has feelings for Dean, but can’t find the right words. So he decides to say it with pie.

Teen and Up. 1.3k words. (Complete)

[alternating pov, Cas bakes a pie, Cas loves Dean, Dean loves Cas]

Worthy by jad

“… you wanna what, now?” Dean asks, because he definitely didn’t hear that right.

Castiel tilts his head, a leftover tick from his angel days that Dean would be lying if he claimed to find anything but idiotically endearing. He knows this is his own fault, owing to that rather memorable moment a week ago when Cas wandered into this very same kitchen with a (fairly) legitimate question and Dean just didn’t know when to shut up.

Explicit. 15k words. (Complete)

[s9 bunker fluff, human Castiel, porn with feelings]

Blame It On Me by @coffeeandcas

Castiel has left the bunker and is trying to build a life for himself, alone, and is failing. He moves from one homeless camp to the next, struggling to find his place in the world and feeling more unwanted as every day passes. He never meets April, and with no form of identification to prove who he is, he never gets offered a job at the Gas n Sip.

Eventually, he falls in with the wrong crowd and his life takes a sudden, violent downward spiral. After months of searching, Dean and Sam manage to find him and bring him home, but at what cost?

Explicit. 44k words. (Complete)

[Human Castiel, Men of Letters Bunker, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Prostitution]

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Drug-Induced Sex, Rape/Non-con

[deepwithinmybonesfic]

Deep Within My Bones Ch 10- Hospital

AU. Viktor wins another gold at the Olympics, and attends the Paralympics as another duty as the King of Ice Skating. Having lost his inspiration and heart, Viktor did not expect to find love in what he sees as the perfect man. Yuuri, after losing his legs, lost his chance to compete on the same ice as his idol. When the world seems to fall into place, what else can be taken away from them? Ch 1-6 is Setup, start at Ch. 6 for the cute romance-y and drama

“Hospital? Why hospital? You said you felt better…” Viktor couldn’t even muster the energy to whine. He just felt tight. His throat, his chest. It hurt, and he had no idea if it was because of little Yuri, or because of what was happening to his Yuuri.

“What’s going on with your boyfriend.”  Yuri had been quiet until then, and had given them space… but not forgiveness apparently.

“I don’t know. They’re making him go to the hospital.” Viktor didn’t have time to worry about his relationship with his protégé right now… outside of finding a place to put him.

“My dad will drop you off at home before we go to the hospital.” Yuuri left his conversation with his mother, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders. “It’s a long drive to Fukuoka.”

“Fukuoka?!” Viktor shrunk back, when he realized he had been surprised and loud enough that everyone turned to look back at him. Even Yuri, who was being shooed into the back row of the van. “Why so far? What about the clinic you brought me to when I got a cold?”

Yuuri stared at his feet.

Somehow, this felt more like than just his nerves.

It was easy to forget that Yuuri was a little different. Why he had been at the special Olympics and not the main events….

“ My doctor is based in Fukuoka. Clinics are general doctors.” He licked his dry lips. “My mom is worried that the cancer I had when I was in the junior league is coming back.”

“Cancer? I thought you were in a car accident or something,” Viktor lost his tact as he felt the pit of his stomach turn icy. Cancer. Cancer? Yuuri had run with him every morning, done every skate Viktor had asked him to try. There was no way Yuuri was sick.

“No.” Yuuri still couldn’t look up at him, his dark hair in his eyes. “I ignored what was going on, thinking it was part of skating. I decided it was better to lose my feet and skate with prosthetics than try and fix my feet.” His shoulders were shaking, and his cheeks were wet.

Viktor pulled him close, wrapping his arms around Yuuri, tucking his head under his chin. “I’m glad you kept skating.”

“There’s nothing else I’m good at, anyway.” Yuuri’s voice wobbled, weak and losing its strength.

“You were good enough to bring me to Japan.” Viktor moved with Yuuri as his mother came to shoo him into the van. Yuuri slouched into him once they were in the van, Yuuko talking with Mama Katsuki just outside the car.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Viktor said, pushing back his long bangs. He paused, pulling back his hand and staring at his own fingers.

They were slick and wet with tears.

“But I want to go to Fukuoka with you.”

---

Viktor didn’t like hospitals in Russia, and he didn’t like Japanese hospitals either. There were no cute mascots or vending machines. The nurses wore uniforms that made them look like they had come out of a cartoon, and they were barely around. Hiroko ended up stepping out a few hours after they arrived, coming back with several bags from the Seven-eleven down the street.

Even though Viktor had been amazed at the freshness and variety from convenience stores, somehow today the katsu curry tasted bland and dry in his mouth. Yuuri had even less of an appetite, only poking at the caramel  custard pudding his mother had gotten for dessert.

It wasn;t that he was nauseous. He had done many sports physicals before, and submitted blood samples to ensure he wasn’t doping. But somehow, watching the four vials of blood being drawn from Yuuri’s arm had shaken him. The way Yuuri hadn’t even blinked when the needle poked him, or when they put a line to draw the blood from. His hand naturally moved to accommodate the oxygen reader, and he didn’t tense when the IV line was put in.

He was quiet.

Mari had facetimed earlier, with Vicchan and Makkachin taking up the screen, but Yuuri was mostly quiet.

Rather than push him, Viktor spent most of his time staring at the chart at the end of the bed and fiddling with his translator app. He had gotten better at isolating the sounds in conversation, and had a ongoing list of words to try out and add to his study list.

Nikiforov-v 18:05  he still isn’t talking

Giacristophe 18:06   you can say something

Nikiforov-v 18:06  then he will just feel bad that he isn’t translating

Giacristophe 18:06    I don’t think he worrys about you right now

Nikiforov-v 18:07   he always does.  That’s why we’re here

Giacristophe 18:07   its  not your fault

Nikiforov-v 18:08   I want to do something

Giacristophe 18:08   you said anemi?

Nikiforov-v 18:08   anemia

Giacristophe 18:08   give  him the blood

Giacristophe 18:42  viktor?

Giacristophe 19:01  don’t go crazy

He looked adorably sleepy when Viktor jumped up and leaned on the end of Yuuri’s hospital bed. “Yuuri! What blood type are you?”

“Wha? Uh, A-type….why?” This had come out of the blue. He knew Viktor wasn’t anywhere near fluent enough to hear what his doctors had said.  There was a shortage on A type donations due to the injuries from a 5.7 earthquake further notice. But with bed rest and  fluids, Yuuri would be fine until the tests came back.

Viktor pumped his fist in the air. “So am I.”

“Oh… that makes sense.” He narrowed his eyes, staring at Viktor.

“What does that mean?” Viktor shrunk back, looking offended, even though he had no idea how.

“Perfectionist.”

“Wouldn’t that be the same for you?” Viktor made a face, secretly glad  that Yuuri was finally talking back.

“I don’t really pay attention to that kind of stuff.” He shrugged, moving the shovel-like mini spoon in his pudding cup. “Why?”

“I can donate to you!”

Yuuri immediately flushed. “No! No, its okay.” Maybe Viktor was more fluent than he gave him credit for.

“No. Please. I want to.”

Yuuri slid down his pile of pillows, refreshingly pink. “Don’t you think… that’s a little… intimate?” he murmured, shrinking under his blanket.

Viktor finally felt like smiling. “I know your blood rushes for me, I should only return the favor!” He chirped with his sweet heart-shaped smile. Yuuri disappeared under the blankets, squawking with embarrassment. Hiroko looked up from her paperback, peering over the edge curiously.

Yuuri immediately sat up, Viktor automatically going up to fix and fluff the pillows behind Yuuri’s back.

“Mama, Viktor wants to donate blood. He’s type A.”

“Oh! Just that?”

Yuuri felt like disappearing under the blankets forever

“Vicchan is so sweet. I’ll tell Yamamoto-sensei when she comes.”

It was more anxiety inducing to be in the hospital without Yuuri than it was sitting uselessly in his room. Even if he was paying attention, he wouldn’t have been able to understand anything the nurses said. They ended up bringing the questionnaire back to Yuuri’s room, and went back to basic English. “Arm” and if he didn’t position it right, they would take it and turn it over.    “Pinch” and he knew to look away until they covered the needle with a piece of fabric tape. When staring at the wall wore out its welcome, he sneaked a peak at the tube coming out of his arm.

He had expected it to be more vibrant, more red, more life-inducing. But it looked more purple than anything, and looking at the tube made his stomach lurch. It was part of his body, and yet it wasn’t.

But it was for Yuuri.

By the time Viktor had realized he wasn’t going anywhere until finishing the juice box with a smiling orange on it, Yuuri had already fallen asleep.

Viktor had offered to use his credit card at the hotel chain next to the hospital, but they had declined. They stopped by 7-11, Yuuri’s father stopping to get a coffee milk, and handing a bottle of Calpis soda and a small brown glass bottle.

“Energy!” He mimed flexing his muscles, before tapping the brown glass bottle. Viktor nodded, grateful for their hospitality and even thinking of him while they left behind their only son in the hospital room. The drink tasted awful, too herbal and grass like, but he downed it all between sips of his favorite yogurt drink. They got back to Yuutopia past midnight, the resort already dark and asleep.  He stopped on his way to his temporary room, the door to Yuuri’s room still open. Makkachin and Vicchan were both on his head, curled around each other in a nest of blankets. As if they knew.

Makkachin lifted her head, staring at him through the twilight.

He joined them for the night.