#november ficlets

[runraerun]

darling, dearest, dead

written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge for November | prompt: guard | wc: 532 | rated: G | cw: major character death (but not really?) | tags: angst with a hopeful ending, Ghost!Steve Harrington, GhostHunter!Eddie Munson

There’s a legend that the first person who gets buried in a cemetery becomes the guardian of all the other souls buried there after. They become a reaper of sorts, ferrying the newly dead from this world to the next—a place they can never go.

This is what happens to Steve Harrington, aged just eighteen when he tragically dies in the Starcourt tragedy in ‘85.

Steve, who dies but doesn’t move on. Doesn’t go peacefully into that good night, or however the hell the saying goes. He can’t.

Steve, who attends his own burial, but despite how loud he screams into the faces of his loved ones, goes entirely unheard.

He eventually gets it, of course. Despite what everyone thinks (thought? Do they still think of him?) Steve isn’t stupid. He catches on quickly when the first few souls come wandering up to him, lost and alone. Steve can see the path they’re supposed to follow, even when they can’t. So, Steve takes the time to explain to them what he knows, tries to comfort them, before guiding them towards the afterlife.

It’s a curse, really. Eternal isolation. Decades pass but Steve remains. The few souls he speaks to are always so eager to leave him. In the end, Steve’s left alone.

And then one day, Eddie Munson comes stomping through his cemetery.

—🛡️—

“What’s with the get up?” A dark haired stranger asks, startling Steve, “there an anime convention going on or something?”

Steve’s eyes trail up and down the newcomer. He wants to make a comment about the strange attire he died in, but upsetting the newly departed usually isn’t a good idea.

“It’s my work uniform. I didn’t have time to change.” Steve explains, a well-rehearsed response. The Scoops uniform that he can never shed was always a point of interest for people. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.”

This is the first time Steve’s missed a burial. Strange.

The guy snorts, “don’t apologize. I’m the one intruding. You visiting someone? I can wait to do my shit.”

Steve frowns, brows creasing where they come together. “No. I’m just… waiting.” He answers.

“For the ghost?” The stranger asks, his interest clearly piqued.

Steve blinks. “The ghost?”

“Yeah, y’know. The ghost that supposedly haunts this graveyard. Legend has it it’s some guy who died way back in the 80’s—there've been sightings for like, thirty years, but no one’s been able to actually record anything decent. All the pictures are super blurry. But I intend to change that. I’m Eddie, by the way. Ghost hunter and semi-professional psychic.” Eddie grins, giving a strange little bow in his introduction.

Wait…

“1985?” Steve asks.

“Yep,” Eddie pop’s the ‘p’, “The year Starcourt burned down and old Steven Harrington bit the dust. You know the story?”

Steve didn’t need to breathe—not anymore. And yet, he still felt short of breath. Lightheaded.

“It’s just Steve.” He clarifies.

“Yeah?” Eddie snorts, “how would you—”

A light seems to go off in Eddie’s head. He pales, eyes widening.

“You can really see me?” Steve can’t help but laugh, tears stinging his eyes.

“Yeah, I can see you, Steve.” Eddie mumbles, stunned, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

—

tagging: @sleepy-steve because they let me rant about reaper Steve to them<3 check out her reaper!eddie fic: here!💘

[mrsjellymunson]

Hurt Me

Written for the @steddiemicrofic November prompt ‘guard’ | WC target: 532 | Rating: M | CW: hurt/no comfort, angst, mentions of sex, feelings denial, self-sabotage | Tags: rockstar!Eddie Munson, personal assistant!Steve Harrington, top!Eddie Munson, bottom!Steve Harrington, shameless use of pop song lyrics 

He’s done the right thing. He’s sure of it. If Eddie’s learned anything from a life on the road it’s that he needs to guard his heart. There’s no room for messy things like feelings, emotions, anything even resembling love.

And that’s definitely not what they had. Absolutely not. Not by a long way. Whatever he and Steve had was strictly business. 

Until it wasn’t… 

So what if they happened to cross paths when Eddie swung by Hawkins on a break from touring, and he realized Steve wasn't that douche from High School anymore, he was actually a good dude. 

Or that Steve ended up being the best Personal Assistant Eddie’d ever had. Or that he became the best friend Eddie’d ever had.

And so what if they started hooking up after shows, they were just purging adrenalin, right? And then between shows, then after meetings, then before meetings…

So what if Steve sometimes stays the night - it’s just easier to get to whatever thing they have the next day. Or that they shared a hotel room that time - they had a lot of prep to do and it just made sense to stay close so they could work. 

So what if Eddie’s disappointed every time they get back to the big city where they have their own places. Where Eddie can get Steve on the phone anytime, sure, but where that’s not enough anymore.

So what if, when he slides into Steve’s tight warmth and he whimpers into the pillows, it stirs something inside Eddie. Or, when he gazes into those molten caramel eyes, he searches for flecks of forest green that he’s convinced nobody else has ever seen. So what if, for years, it’s the closest thing he’s felt to being anything resembling… complete.

So what if Steve’s the first person he’d consider letting top him since that awful encounter he had years ago. So what if he wants to ask him if he would.

None of it means anything. It doesn’t.

Just like it doesn’t mean anything now, when Eddie’s dressing for yet another interview and going through his dresser looking for the perfect ripped black tee out of the hundreds he now owns. Absolutely not looking for the one Steve picked out for him that time for a photoshoot, telling him it was the hottest he’d ever looked.

He’s definitely not overthinking how he broke things off, bitchily yelling at Steve to go back to Indiana because,

“The rockstar life doesn’t suit you, dude.”

Or how Steve retorted,

“Have you ever considered that by pushing people away, the only thing you’re guarding yourself from is happiness?”

So what if Eddie sits and weeps, amongst piles of black leather and satin and chains, and tells himself,

“So what? I'm still a rock star, I've got my rock moves. And I don't need Steve. And guess what? I'm having more fun now that we're done.”

He snuffles and wipes snot from his nose with the heel of his hand.

“I'm gonna show him tonight. I'm alright, I'm just fine. And he’s a tool. And I don't want Steve tonight.”

He’s done the right thing. He’s sure of it…

Thanks so much for reading! There’s more Steddie minifics on my masterlist, if you’re interested (and I promise the majority are happier than this one 😆)

A/N2: This gets added to the list entitled Times I Wrote Something & Made Myself Cry. I’m so sorry… Also, what is this obsession I apparently have with SteddiexP!nk lyrics? IDK, if you work it out LMK 😆 Also, props to @morningberriesao3 for the idea of an ‘awful encounter’, I hope this doesn’t count as plagiarism but if it does LMK and I’ll totally change it! 🙏

Tagging my usuals, ILY (list is open) @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland

[annerbhp]

So who remembers the Four Seasons Landscaping press conference debacle of November 7th, 2020? You know, the one held across the street from the sex shop. And the endless memes after of “imagine your OTP: who owns the landscaping company and who owns the sex shop”?

Well, yeah, I wrote this thing for it a long while back. And yes, of course I made Harry work at the sex shop and Ginny at the landscaping company. Decided I should just schedule it to post on the next November 7th. Enjoy!

Come Again (Harry/Ginny, meet-cute, Harry works at a sex shop, bad flirting, Ginny’s into it anyway, non-magic world, Teen, no content warnings. Other than, you know, sex shop inventory!)

Harry glances up from his magazine at the sound of the shop door opening. He cursorily looks over the customer—young woman, mid-twenties, red hair, short, athletic build—before returning his attention to the magazine. He’s noticed most customers don’t particularly like the feeling of being watched. Some people flee immediately upon catching him watching them. Especially women.

Sure enough, out of the corner of his eye, he can see her slip down the aisle furthest from the cashier counter, the one full of costumes and larger objects far too difficult for anyone to steal.

“Harry?”

He looks over at Tara near the breakroom at the back where she’s pulling on her coat. “Are you off?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says, swinging her purse over her shoulder. “Are you sure it’s okay if I take Tuesday morning off?” She’s biting at her lower lip, as thinking his offer was somehow a trap. He wonders what kind of shit she had to put up with at her last job. Or it could just be him. Maybe she’s still trying to get used to him as their manager or something.

“Yes,” he says, forcing his voice patient. “Go get your tooth looked at. I’ll cover the shift, no problem.”

“Thank you,” she says in a rush. She glances over, catching sight of the ginger. “Want me to cover this one before I go?”

“I’ve got it,” he says, and it occurs to him that maybe she’s more nervous about leaving him to do the shift on his own than she is that he’s going to get mad at her for taking the time off.

He’d be offended by that if he hadn’t spent the last three weeks completely in over his head. But he’s starting to get the hang of it now.

Tara waves and leaves out the back.

“So you’re the owner then? You don’t look like a Luna.”

He turns to find the customer standing in front of him. He glances at the big sign out front declaring this store as Luna’s sex toys and more store.

“What? Oh,” he says. “No. I’m just filling in for her for a few months. She’s out on maternity leave. Twins.”

“Ah, so you’re just the understudy,” she says.

“Something like that.”

Pull yourself together, Potter.

“Then you’re…” She waves a finger around in a circle, encompassing the whole store. “In the business?”

He laughs. “No.” He realizes a moment too late how bad that sounded, and rushes on. “She was going to have to shut the shop down or cut her time home, but I’m between careers at the moment, so I figured I could cover for her.” He has no idea why he is spilling his life story out at her, and he considers that maybe Tara had seen what he hadn’t when she’d been so reluctant to leave him on his own. “It’s been a bit of a learning curve, I admit. Though mostly it seems to be about putting customers in categories and treating them accordingly.”

Her eyes narrow, as if sensing an insult towards the kind of people who might come to a shop like this. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“No,” he says, desperately trying to backpedal. “It’s just… Look. It’s like setting expectations? There’s people who come for joke gifts, the people who pretend they are here for joke gifts because they are too embarrassed to want to buy something, the people who know exactly what they want and get right to it, and the people who are here because of rebounds. Each kind of person would prefer to be treated differently: ignored, helped, given stern looks. So it’s just about figuring out which kind of customer they are, so I can make this easiest for them.”

The customer is now frowning at him. “You know that still sounds kind of creepy, even if it makes sense.”

“Studying people is kind of my thing.”

She only looks more alarmed.

“Not in a creepy stalker way! Or in a ‘I want to draw your picture’ way. I was a profiler. You know, criminals?”

“Ah, so now the customers are criminals.”

He would think he just can’t win with this maniacal customer, but she was smiling now, clearly teasing him. “Only if you try to walk off with Gary shoved down your shirt,” he gamely replies.

She turns to follow his gesture, letting out a low laugh at the sight of an enormous oversized novelty cock with a face on the tip. It’s not a ‘I’m nervous and about to break down into a fit of giggles’ laugh either, so Harry is pretty sure this is a customer who won’t mind being offered help.

“So is there anything in particular I can help you find?” he asks.

“You tell me.”

Said in any other tone, that might sound like a come on, but it was more challenging than coy. “Excuse me?” he asks.

“Am I here for a joke gift? Profile me.”

He looks her over, eyes lingering on the details. A new sweater (he could see the strip where the sticker had been removed very recently). Her hair looked freshly cut, the way she touched it said it was not the length she was used to, maybe having cut it off recently. There was the slightest indentation on her ring finger, a faint tan line.

“You’ve recently broken off a long-term relationship, either started when you were both very young, with someone who likes vanilla sex that you found boring, or with someone who was offended by the idea of you using any toys because it felt like cheating and made you get rid of them.”

She stares back at him, eyes wide.

He said it all without thinking, really, just speaking as it came to him, these thoughts about who she was that he might come up with about a case.

“Sorry,” he says, certain he’s just cost Luna a customer. “I’m sure I’m way off.”

“No,” she says, “you’re annoyingly on-point.”

He winces, realizing that’s probably even worse.

Definitely time to try to make a tactful retreat, if at all possible. But before he can back away, she’s speaking again.

“I used to have a Shibari before he made me toss it. Any thoughts on what might be like that? Only better. And bigger. Longer battery life.”

“Uh,” he says, floundering for a moment. Then he walks over to a shelf, pointing at a slim lavender-colored wand vibrator. “I can tell you the mini halo is really popular. But Luna always says it depends on what you’re looking for, not what other people want.”

Her eyebrow lifts, and it occurs to him that he has basically just asked for detail about her sex life. Yup. It’s possible he’s out of his element. He ends up texting Luna, for some reason not wanting to lead this particular customer astray. Not just because she seems pretty great. She deserves to get what she wants after all! Everyone does!

Getting tired of the back and forth, the customer eventually just grabs his phone and texts Luna directly, debating the finer points of the Soul Sucker. The woman’s smile—stupidly lovely, really—No, not appropriate, Harry!—is wider and wider as she gets into a really long exchange with Luna. Ending with a gasp of adoration when Luna apparently texts a picture of her sons.

The text exchange eventually dies down, the customer giving Harry a bald, assessing look.

“What?” he asks, refusing to shift back and forth on his feet, reminding himself of his long career as a criminal investigator—which would mean more if he hadn’t burned out and left with no real plans for anything else he’s going to do instead. Other than manage a sex toy store, apparently.

“She wants to know how you’re doing,” the woman asks. Her eyes narrow as she studies him a bit longer, and, shit, she should consider a career as an interrogator. She nods her head, like coming to a decision and then starts typing away again, this time narrating as she does.  “Approachable, only slightly creepy, blushes at a minimum, non-judgmental, but needs an education.”

He lets out a startled laugh, not offended in the least. Actually a better rating than he’d expect. “Trust me, every day in this shop is an education.”

Her eyebrow lifts. “I can only imagine.” She hands his phone back and sweeps up the Soul Sucker and the mini halo too.

Harry helpfully points out the displays of various lubes, letting her head over there by herself as he steps back behind the counter.

A guy comes in then, picking up a pre-order which is thankfully much more straight forward, a package already put together by Tara before she left.

By the time he’s done ringing him up, the woman has made her final selections, putting them down on the counter. He scans each one, slipping them into a bag without looking at them. Not his business!

“And with the five percent break up discount, that comes to….”

“Discount?” she asks. “I don’t need your pity.”

“What?” he asks, feeling like he’s messed up yet another thing. “No, seriously. It’s a thing.” He flips the card with five different set barcodes on it, handing it over to her.

You’re better off without them! – 5% Never too late to figure out what you like! – 5% Congrats on embracing your sexual identity! – 5% You’re a few bucks short, but still deserve joy – 5%

She looks at him in surprise.

He shrugs. “Luna.”

She seems to relax then. “Which one am I getting?”

“Does it matter?” he asks.

She lets out a huff. “Guess not.” She hands over a credit card and he really does his best not to look at her name or anything, but it is sort of a part of credit safety? Or something?

Ginny Weasley. Is her name. It sounds vaguely familiar, though he can’t quite place it.

She signs the receipt, and he passes over the bag. “Have a nice day,” he says, almost automatically.

“Oh, I’d better,” she says, lifting the bag.

He really tries not to blush. He really does. Professional, Potter. Real professional.

Only then she’s giving him a wink and walking towards the door. “Let me know if you ever need help with landscaping,” she says, “so I can return the favor.” 

Harry pauses at the strange words, frowning, resisting the urge to look down at his body.

She’s definitely laughing at him now. “The landscaping company next door? Weasley’s Landscaping? It’s where I work. The family business.”

“Oh,” Harry says with a sudden rush of understanding. She works right next door. Where he will likely see her. Again. Quite often. “Right. I definitely will.” 

“Great. See you around.”

He can’t help grinning. “Come again!” he calls out after her.

He can hear her laughter as the door shuts behind her.

It takes Harry a while to realize he’s humming as he starts taking stock of the strap-ons inventory.

Just another lovely day in Luna’s shop.

[rainbow-0bsidian]

it lies in the white space

Neil coughs and hacks and coughs some more. He’s pretty sure he’s dying.

Andrew assures him that he’s not, in fact, dying, but that if he keeps him awake again tonight he sure as fuck will be.

There’s something reassuring about Andrew’s ministrations. It’s been several years since they returned from Baltimore—since Andrew wrapped him up and washed him off and swallowed him down—but the level of care now is the same. Neil always thought that neither of them were made for gentle, that the need and capacity for such a thing had somehow passed them both by, but in recent years he’s changed his mind. Andrew’s gentle lies in the white space. It’s quiet, and subtle, and it directs attention away from itself; without it everything lacks depth.

This morning, Andrew’s gentleness is evident in the cup of tea that appeared on Neil’s beside table. Of course it was nothing, he was making coffee for himself anyway, but Neil knows for a fact that there’d been no honey in their pantry when he was digging around its depths at two A.M, and now the sweet sour of honey and lemon in his cup is enough to blunt the razor blades in his throat. It’s evident in the ibuprofen on the coaster, and the lip balm that Neil is pretty sure had slipped down the side of the passenger seat in the Mas, yet is now placed within arms reach.

Andrew’s gentleness is evident in the way their phones haven’t rung all morning, despite the trade deadline rapidly approaching. Neil’s not an idiot, he knows that somewhere, someone thinks Andrew doesn’t have a gentle bone in his body (there’s two sides to every story, after all) but Neil doesn’t give a fuck about that. He knows the truth.

Neil is bedridden, and the way he feels, he’s certain he’ll never play exy again. This is the worst flu in the history of any illness ever and he’s suffering worse than anyone right now, no matter what Aaron says. But Andrew is here, and he’s taking care of Neil, and Neil thinks that if he is dying that he’s glad to witnesses this gentle side of Andrew one last time.

[indubioprocoffee]

Cold rain was pouring heavily in Dean’s face. His clothes were soaking, clamping cold and wet around his freezing limbs. His skin getting sore from the damp fabric, but his nerves gone numb with the cold, so he couldn’t feel the pain. Not yet.

They were wandering for hours, days, months. Time passed by in a blur. The only sensation Dean felt in a long time, was the earth shattering cold. He didn’t remember the days of blue skies or the warmth of the sun. He moved his fingers around the handle of his axe, mainly to check if he could still feel them all.

If he didn’t know that this was purgatory, he surely would have thought of it as hell. He did remember hell. Somewhere deep inside his brain, he never left. But like the memory of blue skies, it was distant, a shadow of a life that had been.  

But they weren’t the only things which became distant to him. He did remember Sam like someone he knew as a child. He had difficulties imagining his face. The concept of a house, a home, had reduced to the concept of shelter. The feeling of laughter and love no longer associated with the word. Dean had started to lose himself. There was no room for funny remarks, no dumb jokes, no beers and burger while watching scooby do.

He still looked like Dean, but it was an empty vessel, that no longer contained Dean. Purgatory striped his traits away, everything that made him unique; made him human. He was becoming like them. A monster.

Like a ghost he wandered this wood, clinging to his unfinished business.

Cas.

He needed to find Castiel, the angel of lord. His friend, his … He needed to hold on to him. Hold on to the thought of him. Otherwise he would lose himself completely. He didn’t know much anymore, but that one thing he knew for sure. He just needed to hold on. He needed to remember.

Cas would grip him tight and raise him from perdition.

[sweetshuga]

𓆩 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𓆪

MDNI! The majority of my works are smut and they all contain strong language, obscene descriptions & suggestive remarks!

Matt 𓆩♡𓆪 Chris 𓆩♡𓆪 Chratt

1st

⤷ Puppy Love pt. 1 – {Light Angst} {wc. 251}

⤷ Puppy Love pt. 2 – {Light Angst} {wc. 150}

⤷ Puppy Love pt. 3 – {Light Angst} {wc. 255}

⤷ When in doubt; eat it out – {Suggestive/Smut} {wc. 386}

⤷ Roommates pt. 6 – {Neither Fluff, Angst or Smut} {wc. 274}

2nd

⤷ Lurking pt. 1 – {Thriller} {wc. 586}

⤷ Exclusive – {Light Angst, Fluff & Suggestive/Smut} {wc. 1k}

⤷ Roommates pt. 7 [Finale] – {Neither Fluff, Angst or Smut} {wc. 754}

3rd

⤷ Argument – {Smut} {wc. 946}

⤷ Lurking pt. 2 – {Thriller} {wc. 485}

⤷ Lurking pt. 3 – {Thriller} {wc. 502}

4th

⤷ Give me head – {Suggestive/Smut} {wc. 480}

⤷ Fantasize – {Suggestive/Smut} {wc. 734}

5th

⤷ Lurking pt. 4 [Finale] – {Smut & Thriller} {wc. 696}

7th

⤷ That One Autumn Evening – {Smut} {wc. 1.4k}

10th

⤷ String you out – {Smut} {wc. 3k}

11th

⤷ The moon is pretty, isn't it? – {Light Angst, Smut & Light Fluff} {wc. 1.1k}

12th

⤷ Heather pt. 1 – {Angst} {wc. 1.4k}

13th

⤷ Heather pt. 2 – {Light Angst} {wc. 775}

14th

⤷ Heather pt. 3 [Finale] – {Light Fluff} {wc. 1.1k}

⤷ Heather pt. 4 [Bonus] – {Very Light Angst} {wc. 771}

16th

⤷ Simple solution – {Smut} {wc. 827}

19th

⤷ Love Note – {Light Thriller & Suggestive} {wc. 1.9k}

⤷ Roommates [Origin] – {Suggestive/Smut} {wc. 3.3k}

23rd

⤷ Roommates [Celebration Smut] – {Smut} {wc. 2.6k}

26th

⤷ Bewitched – {Smut} {wc. 2.1k}

27th

⤷ Doppelgänger!Chris x Naïve!Reader – {Introduction & headcannons} {wc. 478}

28th

⤷ Counter Sex Imagines – {Smut} {wc. 337} {wc. 362}

⤷ Matt Sturn. Imagines – {Smut} {wc. 340}

⤷ Mean!Matt x Popular!Reader – {Smut} {wc. 551}

© sweetshuga

[fourmula1]

Hi I would love a little Maxiel where Daniel is hurt and Max is worried about him which outs them to people (maybe Christian or Lando) and they're 100% supportive

“How is Daniel?” Max asks before he’s even got his helmet off, and he can see the confusion flash across Christian’s face in the garage as the mechanics around them tend to the car. Christian was, no doubt, expecting a celebration but instead Max is asking about Daniel.

“We don’t have official word, but he’s been taken to hospital for evaluation…” Christian says and Max sees the way his eyebrows knit together.

Max always wondered when or how or if this day would come.

When one of them gets truly injured on track and the secret comes out because neither of them could keep it under wraps.

Here it is.

“I have to go to him,” Max says as he shucks his race suit off his shoulders to hang at his waist, about to make a move to bypass Christian before he’s stopped by the older man’s hands on his shoulders, Christian’s eyes looking over his face and no doubt taking in Max’s worry.

Max sees the moment when Christian’s eyes flash wider for a split second and Max knows he knows. He knows.

“Max,” Christian starts but Max’s face must give him away. He can’t stay. He can’t bear to stay. He has to be with Daniel. “Right. Okay. Go, let Brad take you,” he says and steps aside for Max.

Max can’t spare a look over his shoulder as he hurries into the depths of the garage to get to his driver’s room and towel himself down before scrambling into street clothes to get out of there.

In the car Max’s phone buzzes and he glances at the text from Christian.

‘give daniel our love. You know the whole team is with you both no matter what.’

For the first time since he realized Daniel’d been taken to hospital Max breathes a sigh of relief.  

[gay-dinasaur]

All in all, Dean didn't own that many things.

It was strange: over four decades on this Earth and some years more in... other places, and he could still fit all of his things into the trunk of his car.

He stood, leaning on the car and looked around the garage. So many cars, assembled over so many generations, and now thy were leaving it all behind.

"You do know we'll be coming back, right?" Cas asked, approaching with his own bag, one that looked even sadder than Dean's. Cas on the other hand was beaming, the bright smile on his face was one those rare ones that Dean's had the pleasure of seeing a lot lately.

"This is just a vacation, only a couple weeks." He threw the bag next to Dean's and went right to the passenger seat, opening the door to climb in with a pleased expression. (Dean still couldn't understand how someone could possibly look forward to spending an ungodly amount of hours stuck with Dean inside a car, but there they were.

He sat behind the wheel, once again turning to Cas to take in his unbelievably happy expression. He didn't realize he was staring until Cas reached out with his hand to rub Dean's shoulder.

"We don't have to go if you don't want to," he said, ever the observer. But today, he was wrong. Well. Dean did have some doubts about this, but he didn't want to let them win.

"No, I want to. C'mmon, Cas, let's get out of here." He leaned in and placed a quick kiss on Cas' lips.

It was time to start a new chapter.

Suptober, Day 30 - Nostalgia

[casdeans-pie]

Castiel's Handprint

The handprint had been getting bolder for a while, but Dean had never seen it this colour – not since the first time he’d pulled up his sleeve at that grimy gas station. He poked at the edge of the red skin with his finger, feeling the way that it raised up slightly from the rest of his shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but it looked like it should.

Dean wiped away the condensation that had formed on the mirror from his shower and twisted his body slightly so he could see the mark better on his reflection.

He wondered if the permanent scar of his best friend’s handprint magically reappearing on his body should bother him, but it didn’t really. It looked kind of badass.

Dean wiped away the condensation that had reformed.

Cas had big hands.

Long fingers.

Dean stared at it for a moment longer and then slowly brought his other hand up, hovering it over the mark.

He pressed down hard.

----------------------------------------------------

I forgot I have a tag list now <3 let me know if you want to be added/removed:

@velvethopewrites ✰ @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie ✰ @fivefeetfangirl ✰ @dreampencil ✰

[resident-gay-bitch]

Whoopsie, Did I Turn You On?

minors dni - steve x gn!reader, public humiiation, dom + submissive roles, sub steve, sadist reader, masochist steve, sexual themes, clumsy steve, mean reader

lmao idk what this is - it's a snippet from my unfinished kinktober list, so here, have it in november instead lol. enjoy? this is so random istg and i wote it at an ungodly hour but we live laugh love. i figured someone out there will get a kick or two out of this. enjoy!! :))

You can’t help it. It’s not like it’s your fault anyway, it’s all Steve’s. He just looks so cute today, strutting around in that too small polo and those snug jeans of his. His hair sits impossibly perfect and you often find yourself wondering how you managed to get yourself such a pretty little plaything. 

Not only does he look perfectly fuckable, having put on mascara again, and raspberry lip balm like he knows you like; he’s also a bit of a klutz today. 

This morning he dropped all his coins, with you standing over his shoulder, when trying to give some money to a busker. He tripped on the curb when running across the street to show you the flower shaped tart he got at the market. He kept missing the straw when trying to take a sip of his iced tea because he was too busy looking at you. And just then he almost stepped off the curb and in front of a cyclist whilst walking down the street because he was telling you all about his night with Robin yesterday, and trying to keep your attention. 

It’s fun making him stir. He always has your attention, you just like making him fight for it. 

He’s so obsessed with you it’s crazy, so desperate to please, and maybe if you were a good person you’d assure him that you love him, and stroke his hair and kiss the tip of his nose. 

But you’re not, not really. You’re mean, you like to play. And when Steve gets clumsy like this, fighting for your gaze to be on him and nothing else, you get horny. 

He flushes bright red every time he messes up. Passersby think he’s just embarrassed that he tripped or dropped something, but you know it’s because it turns him on. He likes being humiliated by you, giving you all the power. He likes when you make him feel more embarrassed than he needs to be. 

“Stevie!” You called, sitting down at a table under the pateo of a nice cafe. Steve had popped inside to place your orders whilst you nabbed a table. “Over here!” You waved at him. 

He came rushing over with a bright smile, leaning down to kiss your cheek before walking around to his side of the table. Only, he tripped halfway there, when you stuck your foot out in his path. 

He stumbled forward and gripped onto the table before falling flat on his ass, all the patrons of the cafe and people walking past on the street turned their heads to watch him embarrass himself. 

He looked up at you, red from the tips of his ears all the way down past the collar of his adorably tight shirt, his eyes a little glassy. 

You pouted down at him, mock sympathy, already noticing the growing bulge in his jeans, “Awh, poor baby… Did you trip?” 

Steve swallowed and looked around, rubbing his elbow where he bumped it, “Yeah.”

“How did that happen?” You asked with a filthy smirk, “You’re such a klutz today, got all your wires crossed.” 

He nodded his head, looking to the ground sheepish, his hands subtly moving to cover his erection from people still staring. 

“Come on, up you hop.” You smiled, reaching your hand out to aid him. “You look silly down on the ground like that, Stevie. It’s almost like you enjoy being humiliated.” 

You noticed Steve burn up red as he scrambled to his feet and sat himself down across from you. He looked so embarrassed, and so fucking turned on. You can’t wait to ruin him later. 

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, straightening his clothes out. 

“Don’t apologise, pretty boy.” You smiled, leaning over the table to whisper, “You look so cute all ruffled up and confused like that. Almost as gone as when I suck your pretty cock.” 

Steve choked on his sharp inhale of air and broke out into a coughing fit, right as the waiters brought out your coffees. You grinned at him, having a proud little laugh to yourself before thanking the waiter and watching them be on their way. 

Steve didn’t like that you looked at them, or talked to them. He wants your attention again, and you’re not going to give it to him right away. 

It’s only when he took a sip of his coffee and almost burnt his tongue on it, did you look at him again. 

“Such a dumb little whore, hmm?” You muttered, shaking your head as you sipped your coffee, “Always so desperate for my attention.” 

Steve gnawed at his lip and wiggled around in his seat, one hand down in his lap. You chuckled to yourself, watching him writhe. You’re sure he’s probably leaking from the pretty tip of his cock right now, staining his boxers and maybe even his jeans. You’d like to take him into your mouth right now and listen to him whimper and moan all pretty for you, tear him apart in the way he loves, only to be put back together and held by you after. 

But that’s to come later, no matter how badly you want it now; making him writhe like this all day is just so rewarding. 

After your coffees were finished and you and Steve had chatted for a while about the mundane things you often like to talk about with your boyfriend, you both made you way down the street again. He was desperate to hold your hand, leaning into you ear and practically begging for it. 

You let him, after he tripped over a lose brick and bumped into a random person, managing to stay upright. It still embarrassed him though, and that person said some rather rude words in response. 

He was smiling, humming happily as the pair of you walked along, hand in hand, when you decided to have a little bit of fun. Embarrass him one more time before letting him get what he so desperately wants, which is his weepy cock in your throat, and to touch you in whichever way you’ll let him. 

“Stevie.” You muttered, tugging on his hand, “You look so cute today, let me get a photo of you? How about you go stand by that tree?” 

“Okay.” Steve smiled and kissed your cheek again, he loves when you take his photo. You always make it your lock screen right after, every time you take a new one, even the filthy pictures. 

He rushed over to the tree you had pointed too and you took out your phone to snap a few pictures as he posed. You managed to get a few good ones before the sprinkler behind him soaked him in water, just as you had planned. 

Steve stood there as the water dripped down him, soaking and flattening his hair. People stopped to stare and laugh in the park, a person or two even snapped a photo. 

You laughed, you’d caught the whole thing on video, and posted it to your close friends story, tagging Steve. 

He rushed back over to you, drenched in water, cheeks red again. 

“Steve, you’re so stupid.” You said, “What were you thinking, standing under that tree, right where the sprinkler is?” 

“I- I don’t know.” He muttered, his hands in front of his crotch as he bounced from foot to foot, chewing at his lip again. His eyes kept darting around and everyone looking. “I’m stupid- I’m so stupid today.”

“Yes, you are.” You grinned, giving him a good once over and biting your lip. “My stupid boy, hmm? You must feel so humiliated.” 

Steve nodded his head. 

“We better get you home, before you do anything else dumb.” You said, turning to head back home. 

Steve chased behind you, his shoes squelching with each step. “Can I please hold your hand?” 

You laughed, pulling your hand away from him as you shook your head, “You’re soaked, baby. I’m not touching you, that’s your own fault for being so dumb, Stevie.” 

“Right… I’m sorry.” He swallowed, looking at you with big eyes and a pout. The epitome of a kicked puppy expression. 

“Guess we better get you all cleaned up in the shower at home.” You sighed, pretending like this was a chore you had no interest in doing. “And since you’re so dumb and clearly can’t do anything yourself, I better be there to help you.” 

Steve swallowed, his eyes lighting up and pupils dilating as he tugged at the crotch of his pants, “You’ll shower with me?” 

You looked at him and grinned, “Only if you be a good boy and stay on your knees for me, I don’t trust you not to slip and fall, dumb whore.” 

Steve actually moaned, and you had to slap a hand over his mouth so no one else could hear walking by. Sure, you liked watching Steve humiliate himself in public, but those pretty, sinful sounds were reserved for you, and you only. 

[castieldelamancha]

3 days later.

The sound of the empty beer bottle he just sent rolling across the bedroom's floor knocking against the doorframe fills the silence around him.

It's almost a living thing this silence, Dean tiredly thinks to himself, it's pressing down on him, sucking out all the air in the room, asphyxiating him.

It's outside, but, to what would be Dean's horror if it wasn't because of the numbness that has taken over him, it's also inside of him, in his head, in his very soul. His own melody, a jumble mess of chords, a mix of gloom notes and bright tunes, seems to be over, now that what had felt for years as its companion piece is gone.

He must be going insane with this grief he feels, he has started to wonder if the darkness might had taken him too.

He lets his head fall backwards, resting it against Castiel's perfectly made bed. The emptiness of this space only seems to add to the silence around him. Don't get him wrong, there is furniture here, but no life, no soul, like Cas never existed, like he was a product of his imagination. 

He stares up at the ceiling, he reminds himself he has to wash his jacket, get the blood out of it. He shakes his head. He was there, that's all the proof he needs to convince himself it was all real. Dean himself is still here, breathing and moving, he wouldn't say alive, but he is also proof it was all real. 

He doesn't know how he has ended up here, in Castiel's room, sitting on the cold, unforgiving, floor by the bed, drinking the last drops of a beer that tasted like shit and that brought him no comfort.

He doesn't think there is something out there that can comfort him now, unless the wall would open right now and spit Cas out same way it swallowed him. 

It doesn't happen of course.

He wonders if Cas can hear him, he doesn't think so.

"One last miracle," he says anyway, "fuck, I know I have asked for so much from you over the years," he struggles to swallow past the lump forming in his throat and he welcomes it, welcomes the tears he can feel filling up his eyes, because it's better to feel this sadness that nothing at all, "know you have sacrificed so much for me, for us, for this world; but Cas, I need one miracle, I need you back." 

There are so many things Dean has to tell him.

Silence. Nothing. His soul seems to get a leave a message after the tone.

There are so many things he has to tell Cas, but not if he isn't here to hear him.

However, eyes still fixated on the ceiling, he whispers, 

"It was always yours to have, all yours." Forever.

.

10 years later.

There is a fine layer of dust covering every surface around him, not too bad considering the time that has gone by since someone has last set foot in this room. More than five years, maybe, Dean isn't too sure about that.

It's quiet in here but, from the other side of the closed door the sound of laughter and conversation filters until reaching him. The bunker is bursting with life, hunters that come and go, a safe haven for so many. He doesn't feel like being part of all that right now.

He wouldn't have come around if he had realized he would still be here on this specific day. 

The memories are painful enough far away from this walls as it is.

But, well, now it's too damn late.

He sighs, the wound is old, but on days like today it's still tender to the touch, like it never healed properly. He hums to himself, a silly little tune, he doesn't remember where it came from but that's okay, he likes it anyway, it keeps his mind distracted. He lets his head fall back, resting it against the perfectly made bed, the covers smell after years of disuse. It reminds him of the first time they explored the bunker bedrooms. 

It was love at first sight, despite all the work they had ahead of them to make this place liveable again. 

He doesn't miss it nowadays, he is thankful for what was his home when he needed one the most, but he has somewhere else to call a home now. Far away from here.

He doesn't know why he decided to come in when he walked by the closed door, but he is here now, sitting on the floor by the bed, not wanting to think about having to get up or about the pain he has started to feel in his left knee. He is not so young anymore.

He opens his eyes when there is soft knock on the door and a gentle voice calls out his name.

"C'mon in." He calls back, smiling to himself and closing his eyes once more. 

There is the sound of the door closing again, light footsteps that stop next to him, a warm body that joins him on the floor. 

"What are you doing in here?" He doesn't need to open his eyes to picture the squinty look that is being directed to himself. 

"I came here, years ago" he says instead of giving a real answer, "I sat down right on this spot and told whoever was listening that I needed a miracle."

He opens his eyes, turning his head to the side to be able to look at Cas, smiling softly at him. His hair is messy as always but, just like Dean's, it's turning grey, paired with his deeping wrinkles Castiel has never looked more handsome to Dean. More alive.

"Did someone listen?" He asks, with a glint in his eyes that make Dean believe he already knows the answer to that question.

He plays along, anyways. Dean reaches to close his hand around Cas' and, lifting them both to get them closer to his face, he kisses Castiel's knuckles, one by one. 

"It took a while, but I got my miracle after all." Dean looks away, he has been working hard, all these years, to feel more comfortable in his own skin, open up and say what he has to say, but still, sometimes, especially in days like this, when he is feeling too much; when he feels raw, emotional, it can be all a bit too much.

Castiel leans in, he presses his forehead against Dean's cheek.

"I had forgotten it was today, it seems the same thing happened to you."

Neither of them would have wanted to be here today.

Dean nods lightly. He looks up at the ceiling. 

He focuses on their breathing, almost synced, calm and deep, he focuses on all the parts of them that are touching. He grips Castiel's hand tightly, nothing is taking him away, it would have to take Dean too.

Nothing is after them now, though, he allows himself to relax once more, heavily leaning his shoulder against Cas'.

He never washed the jacket, it's still here, he had to put it in Cas' closet, where he would never have to see it, unless he wanted to.

"I am glad" Castiel says after a long moment of shared silence, "I could tell you what I needed to say that day." Dean knows the weight of Castiel's guilt around those last moments, he has never regretted saving Dean, of course, he does regret the pain he caused.

Dean almost makes a comment about him being lucky because Dean remembers he couldn't get a single word out, but he has made his peace with that because, even though it took some time, he could tell Cas what he had been bottling up inside himself for years too, staring into his eyes, for the very first time, then a second time and now he has lost count. 

"I still can't believe sometimes that, well-" he trails off, gesturing vaguely with his free hand.

"That you could have it all?" Dean ventures.

"Yes." It comes out in a strangled whisper. Dean turns his head again, dropping a kiss on Castiel's forehead.

"It will always be yours, all yours." Forever.

[frankenjoly]

Trick

aya & bramcraft: school’s costume contest

“See, everyone?” Aya said, smiling from ear to ear and proud as one could be. “Told ya I could bring the most amazing team ever!” And those words were followed by sounds of amazement from most people in the room.

Bram wouldn’t exactly deny how he, Howard and the girl herself could definitely make an incredible team… but, to honor the truth, he wasn’t exactly sure about what they were supposed to be doing either. Aya had talked about a costume contest, then only told them both they just need to look like and be themselves. Plus, a brief glance at his partner only confirmed how he was just as lost.

“How did you manage to pull off the… that?” A small kid asked while approaching, pointing first at Howard’s tentacles then directing their attention towards Bram’s fangs.

“Excuse me, what do you me--” He had barely started talking, when Aya took matters into her own hands.

“THEY’RE PROFESSIONALS, ‘KAY.”

“Technically… not a lie.” Lovecraft then said, barely a whisper into his ear, and Bram couldn’t help but shrug; it was right, after all. And it was going to be taken as valid, since sooner rather than later they would be coming back with an award almost the size of Aya herself.

(Also on ao3.)

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

~*~

I wanted to rec this tumblr ficlet. Loved the line where jc said he could suddenly understand his father.

《the midnight sun》

Specifically, snippet seven.

by @drwcn

Summary: A female Wei Wuxian AU, in which Wei Ying had a child before her death.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[tennessoui]

october part 2 ko-fi fic uploads

hey y'all :D

i absolutely love october and spooky season, so while i know i alredY did a new twilight au/vampire ficlet on tumblr, a new ao3 fic with the trope of "came back from the dead wrong", i also wanted to write a werewolf ficlet to round off the spooky season writing!! the best things come in threes <3

i just posted the link to the gffa werewolf au ficlet (clocking in at around ~4k) to my ko-fi! featuring a lot of homoerotic scenting and wall-slamming and a lil bit of brutal murder as a treat!

as a refresher, the way these ko-fi uploads work is:

Monthly supporters will be able to go into the gallery tab on my ko-fi and click on an uploaded image. The title of the image will be which tumblr-based au the ficlet fits into and how many words it is. The description beneath the image will be a quick summary of the au and a link to the google doc containing the ficlet. The "root" au post, aka the post that started the au on my blog, will be linked as well on that google doc.

(full details of the ko-fi fic uploads here)

[kittykatz009]

Long story short, I had to leave my job back in June, and I've been having a hard time finding a new one. I've been picking up shifts at a local fast food chain, but it's not nearly enough to survive.

If you're able to spare a few bucks, that would be appreciated. If not, sharing would be appreciated as well.

Thank you

[indubioprocoffee]

Big reopening November 5th – Welcome to Family Business Beer

The sign was hanging over the entrance, doors opened waiting for the first visitor to enter their brewery. Dean nervously rubbed his hands together. They took a leap with this thing, invested everything they had to start over again. Cas and him; Sam and Eileen … they all deserved this – a new beginning.

“Everything ready?” Dean asked as Cas joined him at the entrance.

“As ready as can be,” Cas answered with a nervous smile.

“Do you think this … everything will work out?”

“I have faith.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Still? We are open for like,” he checked his watch, “half an hour and nobody has come.”

Castiel took his hands, looking deep into his eyes to calm him down. “Dean, we are OPEN. Can you believe it? After all this time, we finally made it. We are open. And yes, I still have faith. Because I believe in you, in us.”

Dean took a deep breath to respond something, but his thoughts were interrupted by their fist customer. It was their new neighbor and some of his friends.

“Place looks awesome guys,” he said as they shook hands.

“I forgot this place existed. Looks nice though.”

“I heard you gonna sell the best beer in the US?”

“You heard right,” Dean said, smiling. “Feel free to go inside and look around. My brother and his wife will get you your free samples.”

“Free? I like this place already,” the neighbor answered as they sauntered inside.

“Well, there you go, our first customer,” Castiel said, as they were alone again.

“Yeah, that wasn’t so bad right? Maybe we are going to make it,” Dean finally said with some confidence in his voice.

“Look, there are more people coming,” Castiel exclaimed. “Doing this – trying this apple pie life - was the right decision, I can feel it. Can’t you?”

“You know what?” Dean honestly said, as he looked into those big blue eyes, “I actually can.”