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20forty9 · 10 months ago

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I Didn't Mean To Haunt You

Chapter III - Sisyphus

Summary : Suliman makes the spirit realize something about itself and the curse it bears. You find yourself feeling more down than usual.

Word Count : 5.3k

Warnings : Suicidal ideation, uncomfortable touching because it's Suliman, lol.

Pairings : Gojo Satoru/Reader, Geto Suguru/Reader, Everyone/Reader (Reverse Harem)

Cross-posted on Ao3

A/N : Hiya! Back with another short chapter. I'm posting this one early because I'll be away next week and won't update for 2 weeks. I'll be active on Tumblr as always, though! As an apology for my going away, you get more Satoru and Suguru this chapter! Enjoy, please let me know what you think of this chapter, I love reading your comments and they motivate me. (I see your comments ladies, and they make me smile - I'm lurkin' and I'm stalkin' when you least expect it-) (please someone get this reference, I'm embarrassed now)

Sometimes the curiosity can kill the soul but leave the pain. ~Alice In Wonderland

Even after two or three weeks of back and forth blood tests, physical tests, psychological tests and even more tests , the initial shock that the spirit’s heart no longer belonged to itself didn’t wear off. It seemed that it checked its pulse every alternating hour, just to confirm that it truly wasn’t there. And each time without fail, there would be a lack of thumping underneath its shaky fingertips.

The missing heart didn’t seem to stop any normal biological workings of its body, however. Sweat still formed underneath its palms, blood still pumped throughout its body, but it was a mystery as to how. Even with all the lingering questions at the back of its mind, the spirit was too afraid to ask, scared that there would be a possibility that it would learn something it would rather not know in the first place.

It spends most of its time looking outside the window of its locked room. With every day that passes, it starts to resemble a prison cell more and more. The spirit would never imagine it would long for its old life, shrouded in naivety and unknowing of the current horrors it now faces. It feels melodramatic as it reminisces; stop complaining, you got what you deserved, a nasty voice says at the back of its mind . Why didn’t it just stay with its kind instead? Why did it have to wonder what the other side looked like? It spends most hours chastising itself for how stupid it was for shaking a dirty human’s hand.

Said-dirty human unlocks the door to the spirit’s room, a small smile playing upon her lips. Dreading that Suliman is gathering it for another test, it cowers into the furthest corner of its bed, shoulders raised up to its ears as it tries to make itself seem as small as possible, as if it could make itself vanish into thin air, but the glare it sends her is deadly.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” she says, sitting down on the bed, hands neatly folded over her lap. “I come bearing good news.”

What you consider good news is terrible news for me, it thinks to itself, teeth grinding together.

“You’ll be allowed outside today,” Suliman wistfully looks outside the window, peering down and observing the garden outside.

That makes its eyes widen by a slight margin. It doesn’t remember the last time it felt the sun on its bare skin, nor the soft breeze enveloping it with a soft caress. Hell, it doesn’t even recall when it last smelled fresh air.

It realizes a moment too late that it gave too much of a reaction to the woman in front of it. She squints her eyes as the smile on her face grows, unnaturally so, pleased with herself. Too trusting, too expressive. Get a hold of yourself.

“Follow me,” she beckons it to follow as she gets up from the bed, taking slow steps out of the doorway as she leads it down the dimly lit hallway.

The spirit notices that there’s a new painting adorning one of the once-empty spaces along the wall; a picturesque illustration of a landscape made up of yellow sand and brown dead grass, with short trees with skinny stumps and lots of foliage. It can’t help but wonder where this location is. Its eyes scour the small details of the painting, noticing each brushstroke and dot that the artist left behind in their wake. The oranges and blues of the sky mix together, creating a beautiful sunset. At the bottom of the frame sits a golden plaque.

South Malawi… it reads the words in its head. Wonder where that is.

A shove to its shoulder from one of the men standing behind it pulls the spirit from its daydreaming, and begrudgingly, it continues to follow Suliman from behind. It knows it shouldn’t take the opportunity to go outside for granted, but it can’t help but think this is another one of her big schemes that will only cause pain and grievance.

The small group makes their way to the impressive greenhouse, and though it has passed through it multiple times by now, it still can’t help but admire the humongous banana plant that nearly reaches the top of the archway of the glass ceiling. It can see that it is flowering, the pastel pink of the flower’s petals contrasting against the vibrant green of the plant’s huge leaves. The spirit doesn’t know if it’s Suliman who takes care of this herself, or if she has a team of gardeners for it, but either way it holds a small smidge of respect to whoever upkeeps the greenhouse.

Right before they reach the exit of the greenhouse, Suliman stops and turns to face the spirit.

“I expect that you’ll behave and listen to what I tell you to do,” she says, eyes boring into its own. “If you don’t, I’ll be very disappointed.” Code-word for ‘I have no problem tossing you back into that room where you first woke up and letting you rot.’

Anxiously, it subtly nods that it will obey her. As badly as it wants to turn tail and run, the spirit knows that there is a high chance that whatever plan it tries to pull will inevitably backfire on it.

With that, the shaman smiles again with an air of satisfaction before she opens the doors.

Immediately, a small breeze brushes against its face, as if the wind is welcoming it back outdoors. The spirit inhales deeply, the smell of dewy grass hitting its nostrils – the garden must’ve been recently watered. It’s early in the evening, the sun barely starting to set, so most people are inside preparing dinner, leaving Suliman, the spirit, and her small group of men to themselves. There are a few small bats starting to fly haphazardly from tree to tree, the afternoon light casting cool shadows along the ground.

Suliman leads it through the gardens, her hands brushing through the neatly-trimmed foliage and stroking delicate flower petals. If she were anyone else, the spirit would think that this is the image of pure innocence, of embracing the natural beauty of the world, but in reality, it is anything but. Instead, this is the image of despicable ugliness, manipulation that can rot someone’s bones deep to their core.

They arrive at an expanse of land that remains untouched by the gardeners, void of trees and any shrubbery. With a wave of her hand, the group of men stop walking, hanging back and staying still along the path of the gardens. Their cold eyes stay locked onto the spirit, analyzing each breath it takes.

Meanwhile, Suliman continues to take a few steps forward, putting a fair amount of distance between her and the spirit. Her lips move as she moves her hands to form a symbol that it doesn’t recognize, familiar dark and wispy tendrils that once covered its arm being erected from the ground.

It immediately takes a few steps back, arms raising defensively in front of itself, fists clenched in case the shaman tries to attack it again. Instead, a smirk plays upon her lips, and with another quick motion of her hands, the tendrils move to wrap around themselves, slowly shaping into what looks like a scarecrow; black and purple shadowy arms outstretched with skinny stump-like legs to keep it standing upright.

When the weird scarecrow doesn’t show any sign of moving, the spirit’s shackles slightly lower, but its muscles are still tense in unease. It casts a confused look in Suliman’s direction, who approaches the spirit and steps behind it, her hand coming up to move its right bicep to raise again, this time to aim at the tendrils. Her other hand wraps around its waist, making dread and nausea pool in the familiar pit at the bottom of its stomach. It swallows down the rising bile at the back of its throat, eyes trying to focus on the scarecrow in the distance. Her touch makes its skin crawl, and it's almost considering ripping it off.

Suliman hooks her chin over its shoulder, gaze boring into the side of its head. The hand resting on its waist trails up the side of its rib, making goosebumps erupt along its skin, before it latches onto its chin, turning its head to face her. Her unnaturally soft skin seems like sandpaper against its own, making it swallow back the uncomfortable amount of spittle gathering in its mouth. When did it become so powerless?

“I want you to destroy that,” her eyes flit over to the scarecrow. “Use your fire.”

With that, she retreats to observe from behind, hands clasped together in expectation.

Its eyes drift back to the target in front of it. It knows from previous experience that if it tries anything with its other abilities, they won’t reply to its first initial pull until it does it again, but that only results in agonizing pain. What’s to say this won’t be different?

The spirit takes a quick glance back to the shaman looming behind it. Her eyes are almost closed from the large grin that stretches across her face. Everything about her is just… wrong. Unfortunately, it can’t afford to piss her off unless it wants to get locked in that cellar once again.

It takes a deep breath to steel itself, thumb pressing against its middle finger, closing its eyes to focus on singling out the cursed energy that surely must be enemating from the tendrils. Strangely enough, it feels nothing. Attributing it to its nervousness around Suliman, the spirit tries harder to concentrate, but there’s still a lack of cursed energy in the air. Very strange; a woman of her power should surely be exuding large amounts of it, especially the offsprings of her unintelligible technique, but there seems to be a void instead. Her control must be absolutely phenomenal, it thinks to itself.

No matter – after countless years of being deaf, its other senses have become impossibly more refined. Its eyes can pick out details that others cannot see from long distances, and for its ability to actually hit anything, it must know precise measurements. In the case of the scarecrow, it stands exactly fifty-four meters away from the spirit.

With a quick snap of its right hand, sparks emerge from the tips of its fingers, a hot beam of fire emerging and darting towards the target at high speeds, engulfing it in bright unnatural blue and cyan flames. When the flames and smoke dissipate a few seconds later, all that is left is a pile of ashes laying in the grass.

The spirit felt absolutely no pain.

But…

“Isn’t it amazing, what a blazing fire can decimate in a matter of mere seconds?” Suliman immediately invades its view, interrupting its slowly dawning horror. “You are gifted with such immense power… you could destroy anything that stands in your path.”

The insinuation that she has something else on her mind isn’t lost on it, but the spirit quickly backs away from her, trying to put a safe amount of distance between the two. Another snap of its fingers, and it summons a small flame on the tip of its index finger. Blue and cyan. It gets snuffed out as quickly as it came.

The nausea seems to take over again; the flames aren’t as hot as they originally used to be and are a completely different colour. It’s an unfamiliar feeling to manipulate fire that feels like it doesn’t belong to itself, like the element knows its own existence is wrong. Hot white anger pulses through the spirit, teeth grinding together as its jaw clenches painfully hard. How dare she reduce it to this? How dare she manipulate its very being this way? She’ll pay. It will destroy her and everything she’s worked for. The spirit still has its fire, it will make sure it decimates everything here. She’ll fucking regret the day she met this spirit–

Searing pain courses from its left arm and spreads throughout its entire body, making it double over, heaving and gasping shallow breaths of air. As it tries to recuperate itself, it sees Suliman crouch down to meet its eyes, tilting her head as if to taunt it further.

“Sorry, did I forget to mention…?” She says, grey eyes lighting up in morbid glee. “You better learn how to control that anger, spirit. What is it that Mark Twain said… oh, I know! Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured. Or something along those lines– honestly, he never interested me very much.”

Her gaze trails down to the spirit’s left arm, and its own follows. Underneath the short silk wrap, it notices that the curse mark has peeked through the fabric. Did the fabric move when it snapped its fingers…? Wait, no–

“–It’s spreading,” Suliman finishes its thought process.

Just when it felt a flicker of hope at the prospect of being able to use its fire to ruin this god forsaken place, it all comes crumbling back down. There is no winning against this cruel shaman and whatever demented curse that has been placed upon it.

“Well, that’s enough for today. It’s getting late,” she says, waving a simple gesture at the men on standby. They immediately make their way over, surrounding her and the spirit as they force it to walk forward back towards the greenhouse. “I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

As the sun sets behind them, the spirit can’t help but think it would rather die than be here.

It yearns to let itself rot in the ground and let go.

It’s been about a week or so since you have seen any of the other students around campus. You would like to assume it’s the higher-ups doing it on purpose, trying to isolate you from the rest of them, but in reality you know that it’s you doing this to yourself. You’ve barely left your dorm room, spending your days moping in bed instead. For some reason, the nightmares have been getting worse. Though you used to be able to go for days without sleep, it doesn’t seem to apply to you now.

Your hands tremble, muscles weak and face dripping with sweat every time you wake up violently from whatever nightmare you were having. It’s enough to drain you for the rest of the day. Instead of going outside and training or doing anything else to distract yourself from it, you stare at the wall in front of you, eyes unfocused and mind anywhere but the present.

The lack of sleep makes the pain in your arm more bothersome than ever, but you can’t find it in yourself to care enough to take the shitty medication Yaga gives you. It sits untouched on the nightstand beside your bed.

It doesn’t help that you’ve also barely eaten, only having a few snacks that you keep in one of the drawers in the room and some water when you feel like you can stomach it. You had just enough energy today to take a shower for the first time in nearly a week, so maybe you’ll be able to actually eat a meal this evening.

You currently lay down on your side, back facing the doorway and gazed fixed upon the blank wall that the bed is pressed up against. Your hair is still damp from the shower you took an hour ago (you couldn’t be bothered to dry it), strands of hair staining the pillowcase with water. Your arms are left uncovered, clean bandages laying on the floor, exposing the curse mark and old scars that run along the length of them.

It felt like just when you thought things could start to look up, life always threw you in for another loop, no matter how hard you tried and continued to try. There were days where this bothered you more than usual, and some days where you just didn’t care enough, feeling completely numb. At least when you pretended to be happy, putting on a nice smile and ignoring the constant nagging voice at the back of your mind, you could imagine what it would be like to feel normal for once.

There’s a sudden large palm that gently touches your back, making you suck in a deep breath and flinch away, quickly turning your head to face whatever was disrupting your peace. Wide eyes lock onto dark brown ones, the familiar sight of Yaga greeting you instead of an enemy.

“ Sorry,” the teacher signs, immediately retracting his hand, opening his mouth to speak. “I tried to grab your attention, but you weren’t responding . ”

Immediately, you break eye contact and shake your head.

“ It’s fine, ” you move your hands lazily in reply.

Yaga takes in the sight; messy unkempt hair sticks up at awkward angles, your eyes are impossibly sunken in, and there’s a shake to your hands when you sign. The brunette sighs out deeply, disappointed that he didn’t catch onto this sooner.

“Come with me, let’s get you out of this room,” he says.

You can’t look directly at him, but you can’t tear your eyes away from his lips, either. I don’t want to, you think to yourself, I don’t want to go out there right now. I want to stay here. Leave me alone.

“You can’t stay in here and rot in bed all day, it’s not good for you. At least come with me to prepare some tea,” Yaga refuses to leave you alone in this state of mind, having become familiar with it by this point. There are bad days, and then there are worse days.

Empty, droopy eyes look back at him, not a single trace of emotion across your face. You know he won’t leave until he gets what he wants – you remember the time Yaga dragged you out of the room by the feet as you threw a tantrum – and resolutely shuffled your body to get out of bed.

Satisfied, Yaga stands up, extending a hand that you don't accept. Instead, you take the bandages laying on the floor and wrap them around to cover both arms individually. Though they’re loose, you don't want to be touched by anyone right now. Even though it’s not cold enough, you take an oversized hoodie and put it on, the loose sleeves barely touching the bandages. You’re already wearing some soft baggy sweatpants and fuzzy socks on your feet.

Without exchanging any words or signs, Yaga leads you out of the room after you put your shoes on. You don't bother looking up, either, too wrapped up in your own self-pity to really care enough about what he may have to say to you.

There’s a communal kitchen in the dormitories, and the teacher must’ve passed through before visiting your room because there are already two mugs full of piping hot green tea set on the table. Slowly, you both sit down across from each other.

For a solid twenty minutes, you don’t talk. Both of you slowly sip on your tea, letting the taste comfort you. You feel your muscles start to loosen up, though you can’t tell if it’s from exhaustion catching up or from the relaxed state the drink puts you in.

Yaga doesn’t ask any questions about what is running through your mind, knowing he won’t get an answer. When you are in this state, you tend to keep everything close to your chest; whether it’s because you want to, or because you don't know where to start or what to say is unknown to the both of you. For lack of a better term, you shut down.

Instead, he decides to take your mind off of things.

With a tap to the table to grab your attention, Yaga puts his cup down.

“I got approval from the elders to send you out on a mission with my students,” he says.

Your eyebrows lightly raise in surprise. You weren't expecting them to fold that quickly, even though it took a few weeks.

“They’ll be sending you all out tomorrow,” he takes the last sip left of his tea. “I want you to be very careful, don’t unleash anything that will make them lose their minds.”

You nod, feeling the swell of determination blossom in your chest. “ I won’t let you down. ”

Yaga slightly tilts his head to the side, the corners of his mouth quirking up very subtly.

“When have you ever?”

You look down at your empty mug. Just now? When I could barely manage to get out of bed, like usual? I let my emotions get the better of me again, I’ve become weak. It’s an endless cycle. I’m so tired.

Instead of acknowledging any of these thoughts anymore, you look back up at your friend, sending him a tired smile, one that you hope comes across as genuine.

“Nevertheless, stay alert and please take care of my students for me,” the teacher says, rising from his chair. “And go take a walk before the sun sets today.”

He doesn’t see you rolling your eyes behind his back as he walks away – he acts too much like a father sometimes. However, you decide to listen to Yaga anyway; a walk will do you some good.

After putting your empty cup in the dishwasher, you stuff your hands in the pocket of your hoodie, making your way outside. It’s more cloudy than usual today, the sun barely peeking through the dark clouds, but that doesn’t deter you. You take slow steps as you try to enjoy a leisurely stroll around campus. There doesn’t seem to be a single soul around today, probably staying inside just in case it starts raining.

It’s been a long time since you have lived in isolation away from everyone besides the man who took you in, so you don't feel lonely as you walk down the pathway by yourself, but you have to admit that it feels like something is missing. Though you had only interacted with Yaga’s students a handful of times, they had a certain energy they brought to the room, one that couldn’t be replicated on its lonesome. Geto, Gojo and Shoko always freely joke around each other, complimenting each other’s personalities perfectly.

You find yourself yearning for that connection that they have with each other.

You look up ahead, feet dragging along the ground as you notice a figure sitting underneath the shadows of a large tree, lost in their own world. The pure white hair is unmistakingly Gojo’s, who seems to be alone for once, not surrounded by his entourage of friends. He seems to be looking down at something in his lap, and you decide to approach him.

Gojo hears your footsteps on the pavement before he sees you, peering through his glasses to look at you.

“Wow, you look like shit,” he says.

Direct to the point as always.

You simply nod in reply. Too exhausted to think about Gojo’s discomfort surrounding the cursed spirit situation, you sit down next to him, back pressed against the thick trunk of the tree. Your shoulders are nearly touching, but you make sure to lean back just far enough once you notice the proximity.

You observe Gojo’s face from the side for a moment, noticing the furrow of his brows and the tired look in his eyes hiding behind the pair of sunglasses. If you were in any other state of mind, you might say that the white-haired man looks sad , but you quickly shake that thought out of your mind. Him, being sad? He’s the most arrogant and extroverted person here, always surrounded by someone. And yet…

Gojo closes the book resting in his lap when he notices you trying to take a subtle peek at what he was reading. There’s a strange leaping sensation in your throat as you see the cover.

Why is he reading a book about sign language?

The white-haired man tries to shuffle the book out of your sight, putting his large hands over it and turning to face you slightly.

“Can I help you?” He asks, and shit, you can’t tell if he’s joking or being sarcastic now that his eyes are covered by the pitch-black sunglasses.

You shrug awkwardly, shaking your head no.

“Wait, no, try signing instead,” Gojo says, turning his body slightly to face you more. You raise an eyebrow, but obey him anyway.

“ Seemed like you could use some company, ” you sign.

Gojo stares at him for a moment, brows furrowing, before he shakes his head, looking absolutely stumped. “Nope, I got nothing.”

Not entirely surprised, you point from the book to him. Why do you have this in the first place?

He huffs, sunglasses dropping down to the tip of his nose, bright blue eyes averting to look anywhere but at you.

“I gotta know when you’re talking shit about me,” he says, crossing his arms. “Plus, sensei seems to be super keen on trying to get you to join us for missions, so I have to understand you somehow. You can’t fight and write in that dumb notebook of yours at the same time.”

Though you can��t speak in the first place, you find yourself speechless. Or motionless, in this case . Gojo was so rude on your first meeting, shackles raised and ready to fight you at any moment, yet here he is now, determined to try to pick up sign language faster than any other person you have ever known… though he words it in his own strange way.

Unable to formulate a reply, you give him a soft smile, one that you know you don't need to fake.

The white-haired male doesn’t speak any further until he looks down at the book, moving his hands off of it to open it again, then looking back up at you, whose eyes are already on his lips.

“Teach me how to sign my name.”

So, for the next twenty minutes, you teach Gojo how to fingerspell his name, the latter catching on rather quickly. Of course he’s naturally good at sign language , you think to yourself somewhat bitterly.

Gojo’s blue eyes are uncovered at this point, sunglasses resting on top of his head as he brings his entire focus to the lesson at hand. He seems strangely invested, nodding his head vigorously as you sign your own name, then a common greeting.

His attention is finally diverted to something behind you. Gojo waves at the person with a small grin stretched across his face. Curious, you turn around, seeing Geto approach the duo.

“Hey guys, what’re you doing over here?” He asks, taking a seat in the grass in front of the two of you, legs crossed. He notices the book in Gojo’s hand. “Sign language?”

“Yeah,” The latter shrugs nonchalantly.

Geto grabs the book from off his friend’s lap, flipping through the pages. Wondering what the pictures look like, you move over to peer over Geto’s shoulder and take a glance at them. The raven-haired man tilts his head slightly to the side to allow for a better view, pausing at a specific page.

“Ohh, look, they have signs for animals,” he smiles.

An image of an unhealthy black betta fish sits right next to another of a pure white one with healthy fins. There’s a smaller picture of a red and white koi fish underneath both of them, rolled over on its back. Next to the images are illustrations of hand signals, with the names and meanings written next to them.

“This is how you sign fish, right?” He asks, turning to look at you. You suddenly notice how close your faces are to each other, but neither of you make a move to change that as you nod, pointing to the black fish.

“Sad fish, ” you sign, then point to the other one. “ Happy fish. ” Then, the red and white one. “ Dead fish.”

All three of you suddenly deadpan.

“Did you seriously pick up a kid’s book on sign language?” Geto turns his head up to look at Gojo.

“They didn’t have any other available books, sue me!” He immediately exclaims in defense, yanking the book back. “There weren’t many sign language books.”

“Kinda morbid for a kid’s book, don’t you think?”

“It’s never too early to learn about mortality!” He says with a gleeful smile spread across his face before reading through the pages again.

You huff in amusement before you get nudged by Geto’s elbow, who looks at you expectantly.

“How do I sign my name?” He asks, the look in his eyes so soft that it makes you nervously look away for a second.

Another ten minutes pass as you teach them both how to sign each other’s name. You’re just about to move onto Shoko’s name when there’s a large flash of light that explodes from the dark grey clouds in the sky. Immediately, it starts pouring. Thick droplets of rain cascade and puddles are already forming in the divets in the ground.

“Oh shit – let’s go inside!” Gojo exclaims, lifting his shirt up to hide the book underneath it to protect it.

“Run, run ! Go!” Geto laughs, grabbing your wrist and heaving you up off the ground, the three of you immediately dashing through the storm to the dormitories. Your converse are completely soaked when the raven-haired man accidentally makes you run through a large puddle, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. The cold rain is so refreshing as it hits your skin, waking you up more than your blistering shower did this morning.

You look back at Gojo, who frantically scrambles behind the two of you to slam the door shut as the wind picks up, blowing rain into the entranceway of the building.

The three of you exchange looks with each other, taking in each other’s soaked appearances. Then, the two young men burst into laughter, you silently laughing, eyes crinkling as the smile spreads widely across your face. You can see Gojo and Geto’s shoulders shake from their sniggering.

Your clothes are anything but dry, sticking awkwardly to your skin with mud covering you head-to-toe, but it’s so amusing that you all just keep chortling at the situation.

“Wh– wait– what happened to the book?!” Geto asks his friend through bursts of chuckles.

Gojo reaches underneath his soaked shirt, pulling the book out; all the pages are crinkled, water dripping down the spine of it. He pouts, realizing it’s completely ruined.

“Aw man,” he whines. “It’s totally done for.”

Reluctantly, he throws it in the trash bin near the front door, knowing there’s nothing he can do to salvage it.

“Well,” Geto says after catching his breath, looking at the two of you. “Guess we gotta go dry off. I’m gonna go take a warm shower, that rain was freezing .”

Gojo’s already running back to his own room, waving a simple goodbye to them and leaving a trail of water in his wake.

Geto awkwardly throws a smile in your direction. “See you tomorrow, I guess?”

You nod in reply, grinning and doing a sideways peace sign. “ See you later.”

As the raven-haired man walks in the same direction that Gojo went, you steal a quick glance at the trash bin. You make your way over to it, peering inside, and hesitantly reach an arm inside of it, grabbing the book that was thrown away just mere moments ago.

You hold the book close to your chest, heading in the opposite way from where the two men disappeared into to go back to your own room, feeling a weird sense of satisfaction in the back of your mind.

#jjk x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x male reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x female reader

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tlonista · 1 year ago

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Astarion fic recs, Batch 2

Thanks so much to everyone who had kind words for my Astarion fic rec list! My habit continues unabated so I wanted to throw out another little batch of mostly recent, mostly hurt/comfort-oriented Astarion-centric fanfic that I liked. As before there's references to Astarion's past abuse and assault so mind the AO3 tags.

Anyway happy holidays fellow pale elf fans, pls tip me off if you watched the latest Larian animated short and felt moved to write about shivering blanket-wrapped Astarion sitting on Karlach's lap.

Incomplete Multi-Chapter:

The Friends We Meet in the Dark by Copaline

Astarion is captured by monster hunters while spiraling over how to earn Tav's affections. Second in a series, but can be read standalone; one of two chapters posted. Big fan of its protective f!Tav, and there's some fun banter with the rest of the gang.

I Don't Know You Yet by thbreakofdawn

Nicely executed modern Bloodweave social media (text messages and Twitter) AU. Astarion is a sex worker and Gale is a grad student struggling with his relationship to his girlfriend Mystra, and they strike up a text-only friendship after a random connection. Very effective use of the multimedia format.

If the Cross on the Door Doesn't Scare You by Aylwyyn228

Sweet, angsty "Astarion starves in the Shadow-Cursed Lands because he's too scared to ask for blood" fic with the added turn of Gale guessing exactly what's happening, but being too toxic-blooded to actually help unless Astarion tells the others about his vampirism.

a half-blown rose by winter_writes

Astarion's "Tav didn't kill Cazador" dialogue in the Patch 5 Epilogue is one of the saddest things in the game, and I'm so excited to see writers running with it. In this fic Astarion was recaptured by Cazador post-game and then finally freed thanks to a fire... but he's terribly injured in the aftermath and ashamed to have his ex-lover see him. Only one chapter so far but I'm a big fan.

death by rock & roll by falco_c

This hasn't been updated in a while and Astarion hasn't actually appeared in it yet, but I'm throwing it in as a bonus because I really love its Almost Famous-y music industry AU vibe. Its translation of the tadpole ensemble into rock-and-roll burnouts, featuring in-world interviews, is absolutely delightful.

One-Shots:

Untitled by trulycertain (Tumblr-only)

It's spawn Astarion realizing he can turn into a bat and flying around and getting tired with Tav around, that's it, that's the fic. Completely adorable fluff. But "Is this what it’s meant to be like? Being a spawn? Not a starved slave?" kills me.

Family by sword_and_lance

Astarion goes to see his family after being turned, and Cazador cements his control over Astarion by offering him some scraps of comfort in the painful aftermath. It's short and restrained and chilling and so so sad.

Pointy Ears by SpaceBarbarianWeird

Yes another fluffy fic, what am I coming to. But who doesn't want to read about Astarion rediscovering trust by letting Tav touch his sensitive pointy ears with some brief digressions into elven social norms and gift-giving.

Complete Multi-Chapter:

Desperate Measures by Asidian

One of the fics that inspired "If the Cross" above, and one of my favorite "Astarion in the Shadow-Cursed Lands" pieces. Very good at balancing a sympathetic take on the character with him being, like canon Astarion, deceptive and a little bit abrasive when cornered. Plus bonus fun with Scratch.

this is a gift (it comes with a price) by ryttu3k

A post-game Ascended Astarion fic in which AA is literally soulless and knows it, and his sometimes-lover Duke Wyll Ravengard discovers over a series of nighttime visits that he secretly hates it. One of my favorite Ascension fics in part because, intentionally or not, it feels weirdly true to the experience of depressive anhedonia?

The Light of the Seven by Verelia

@reddenmore mentioned this one in the tags on my last fic rec list and I wholeheartedly agree; it's a real good Szarr Spawn Family character study delving into the backstory and personality of each of Cazador's "children," including Astarion.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #fic recs

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whitedarkmoonflower · 7 months ago

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twenty questions for fic writers 💕

thank you so much for the tag @little-diable 💖💖💖

This was so interesting!!!!

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

4 - I don't know why but for quite a time I was just too scared to post my writing there, so I started very recently

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

15 789

3. what fandoms do you write for?

The Last Kingdom (and I've written two fics for The Wheel of Time)

4. top five fics by kudos

I've got just 4 on AO3 and Braiding hair is the most popular there

Here on Tumblr – Saved is still the champion although it's my very first reader insert fric I wrote.

5. do you respond to comments?

Always! I love when people comment, it's the only way to really understand what they liked about the fic

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I love angsty endings:

Princess Reunited Until the death us parts - all have lovely angsty endings 😅

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

My latest fic: The Curse – because with this fic I'm giving a happy ending to a controversial villain character that actually dies in canon

8. do you get hate on fics?

No, I've been lucky not to receive any so far

9. do you write smut?

Yep

10. craziest crossover?

The only one I've ever done Until the death us parts - TLK and Assassins Creed

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't know. I've had a few times a feeling someone has gotten inspired by my writing, but never to a level that I considered it stealing

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, and I love doing it with you my dear @little-diable

14. all time favorite ship?

I don't have any particular ships I focus on

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Reunited - I've received so many requests to give the story a happy ending and I really want to do it but somehow I never get to it

16. what are your writing strengths?

Descriptions, evocative scene setting

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogues

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I love when others manage to do it, but as I struggle with dialogues anyway - I don't even try 😅

19. first fandom you wrote in?

The Last Kingdom

20. favorite fic you've written?

I've got a couple of favorite ones: You are good, Feeling you and Dream are at the moment the ones I love most

Tagging: @lord-aldhelm @foxyanon @timetravelingpenguin1066 @gemini-mama @thelettersfromnoone

@alexagirlie @st-eve-barnes @bhxrdy or whoever wants to join

#tag games #twenty questions for fic writers

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starcraftt · 1 month ago

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♞ ABOUT ME

GLAICER ;; a dorky writer who's trying her best

heya there, nd welcome to my little corner on tumblr! my name is glaicer or cienna, but you're so very welcome to come up with most any nicknames for me ( dfagd, i love nicknames,,, :star_struck: ).

𖤓 my original username would've been .periwinkleyes, but apparently someone already took that?? so,, uh,, frick you man ( not really im sorry. ) but my current username is referencing the pc game of Starcraft ( II ), which i haven't played in a while but you know.

𖤓 I AM ACTUALLY REALLY AFFECTIONATE ND HAVE A WEIRD WAY OF INTERACTING, SO I WILL SOMETIMES JST RESPOND WITH A '🫶' or '<3' or smth im so sorry if this makes you feel weird, jst let me know !!

𖤓 i use she/her/hers pronouns ( won't correct you if you use they/them but please no masculine pronouns ) and identify as a female. <3

𖤓 my messages are always open, and never feel stressed to message me, i love talking to people on here and meeting others with similar interests ( read: pls pls pls pls pls message me pls ). jst dm if you have anything to say, such as asks, questions, headcanons, fanfictions, requesting me to do/write something, literally anything!! send me a keyboard slam!! i promise i'm nice :3

⤷ 𖤓 if you'd like to stay anonymous, you're always welcome to use some sort of symbol or emoji as a pseudonym ! just let me know on the message what you're gonna use, haha!

𖤓 i am a minor ( under eighteen ), so please don't send or talk about any nsfw things around me.

𖤓 i sometimes get very opinionated on some subjects?? it's,, its kind of insane.

𖤓 any comments/reposts/likes/kudos mean the world to me,, tysm to whoever does. ^^ ( forewarning i can't respond to compliments im an anxious nervous wreck. )

𖤓 dedicated band kid, try me. i play the clarinet, and some piano!

𖤓 weird humor, you'll hopefully get it. it's kinda dark i dunno.

𖤓 i do/can rp btw !! i have more detailed responses and ocs, but for sure i can rp most any of my fandoms, and willing to also do original ideas as well! <3 just message me ^^

WATCH OUT ;;

before you follow, i tend to use profanities and curse quite a bit ( which is weird because i used to never curse lmao ), and tend to use dark humor to cope often. i'm extremely awkward with any type of compliments ( or maybe just conversating in general ahaha ) and usually just respond with a keyboard slam and a 'thank you smmmm <33 😭🫶🫶' ( :D ). i promise i try my absolute best to be friendly and keep this blog at least pg-13 so if i post anything problematic or triggering, i'm so, so sorry and please speak up about it. sometimes my content can be dark and angsty so um,, prepare yourself !

STATUS ;;

currently in an eighties movie kick, in my c. thomas howell phase ( jst wait, i'll go through a phase for each outsiders cast member ), in love with robert morris from red dawn 1984 ( pls ask about him pls pls pls im on my knees begging ), in love with patrick swayze's laugh ??, debating finishing those fics, in love with sam and dean winchester whilst being scared that there's smth behind me in the dark :3

TAGS ;;

ask and you shall be answered - simply answering a message! starcraftt - will be on my answers to messages or fanfics/original works! blog check up - jst what it reads !!

GATEWAY TOWARDS ;;

other profiles : @pixelsdepleting ⨳ @starrsforyou ⨳ @eastsidetulsa ( under construction )

socials : quotev ⨳ c.ai ⨳ ao3

posts : user starcraftt ⨳ fandoms ⨳ likes/dislikes ⨳ ask away ! ⨳ golden hour ?! ⨳ soda's death

masterlist ; a labyrinth of unwritten works, do you dare enter?

#starcraftt #robert morris i'll never forget you my love #( red dawn 1984 )#ponyboy curtis and johnny cade my beloved #john bender and andrew clark fr such boyfriends smh #michael ryan you fucking idiot i love you #tim pearson you fucking idiot

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hpsaffics · 1 year ago

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🧛‍♀️ WLW Wed: Vampires (Part 1) 🧛‍♀️

A jointly compiled HP femslash rec list made by the lovely members of the HP SAFFICS discord server. See all previous rec lists in the WLW Library on Tumblr or AO3!

Currently: Vampires (see part 2) Previously: Ginmione (see list)

—

🩸 LONG (>10k) 🩸

There's no blood like yours by isuckatnicknames [Hermione/Bellatrix, E, 102k]

Bellatrix is a pretty ancient vampire and Hermione is her 'meant-to-be'. There's no stronger bond that that.

A fate better than death by sugarsnappeas [Bellatrix/Rita, M, 17.9k]

Bellatrix was a vampire... Bellatrix was a possibility... Bellatrix was intoxicating, captivating, and Rita had been enraptured by her since the first moment she had seen her.

Sharp Bites, Soft Kisses by vendettadays [Hermione/Pansy, E, 10.7k]

Hermione thought her life had quietened now that the world was calmer. She had a good, stable job at the Ministry. She had her pub nights with Harry and Ron. All in all, things were going well for her. That was until she died and was turned into a vampire.

—

🩸 MEDIUM (3-10k) 🩸

hot blooded (now you're driving me wild) by @grimjobs [Pandora/Lily, Pandora/Mary/Lily, E, 8.3k]

Still, Lily grinned wide; teeth fully on display, and she heard Pandora’s breath hitch as her thumb moved from her cheek to stroke along one of the fangs now protruding through her gums.

When the thrill is gone by @sleepingontheway [Fleur/Hermione, NR, 6.0k]

Years post-war, Hermione is a shell of the girl she once was. This is not a happy tale.

Sweetness and Light by Headcanonsandmore [Luna/Ginny, T, 5.8k]

Ginevra Weasley (the daughter of a large working class Devon family) helps rescue a Miss Luna Lovegood from drowning in a river. However, the enigmatic Miss Lovegood is far more than meets the eye.

i would kill for some company (temporarily) by invisiblemuseum [Pandora/Lily, M, 4.7k]

pandora's never seen something so pretty and not wondered just how long it would take for it to die, and just how good it would taste.

Of Shadow and Blood by Wolf_of_Lilacs [fem!Harry/fem!Tom, NR, 4.2k]

Even serial killers should exercise caution when picking up hitchhikers. Who knew? (Certainly not Tommie Riddle, with a pathological fear of death and a taste for the macabre.)

A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night by RachelC978 [Fleur/Hermione, T, 3.3k]

Don’t you just hate it when your meal gets interrupted? When it’s by a beautiful woman whose blood sings to you, it’s slightly more forgivable.

—

🩸 SHORT (2k-3k) 🩸

The Catacombs by GhostxWriter [Surprise pairing, E, 2.9k]

Deep within the bowels of society, a girl dances in a club. Here, in the depths of the catacombs, she finds what she’s looking for in the eyes of an almost-stranger.

An Eternity with You by @sosh022 [Fleur/Hermione, M, 2.6k]

Fleur dies and Hermione defies the laws of life and death to bring her back. Because sometimes, one lifetime is not enough.

Like A Secret In Your Throat (Can You Stake My Heart?) by arakhnee [Marlene/Dorcas, M, 2.5k]

Dorcas is a vampire. A monster, if you will, and Marlene's target - except that they keep evading her. When Marlene is sent on her sixth mission to kill them, she makes a vow not to fail this time.

Hey, Baby, I'm Not Scared (I'm Just Dying Inside) by orphan_account [Fleur/fem!Harry, E, 2.5k]

Fleur Delacour vanishes without a trace at the end of the war, presumed dead by those around her. Harry takes the wrong turn in an alley in Paris and learns that the truth is far more complicated (and far more horrifying).

The Third Option by @fiestylilmetalbendingqueen [Astoria/Pansy, T, 2.4k]

Each day Astoria's blood curse gets worse, and after exhausting all other options, there's one more to consider.

—

⚰️ Want more femslash vampires? ⚰️

@hpbloodlust | AO3

Vampires: Tag on AO3

WLW Library: Tumblr | Tag | AO3

#hp saffics #hp femslash #hp wlw #vampires #wlw wednesday #wlw library

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bookishfeylin · 2 years ago

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Evil AU- From Ao3

@darklordofspring I'm tagging you because I'm not sure if you saw this on Ao3 or not but either way... I'm posting another Feylin ficlet on tumblr :)

If anyone already read this on Ao3 then y'all know I wrote this because Tamlin as a villain is so BORING in canon. Let him be actually EVIL, please.

Feyre raced through the streets of Adriata, not daring to look behind her. He was close— too close. She couldn’t let herself be caught, the information she carried for the rebellion against Tamlin was far too important to fall into his hands. And Cauldron only knew what he’d do to her.

Pausing to catch her breath, Feyre wiped away the tears that were trailing down her cheeks. The male she loved was gone. Whatever Rhysand had done to his mind had destroyed Tamlin and all he stood for. Now… he was a tyrant. And Rhysand was away in the Day Court, with the rest of the rebellion, unable to fix Tamlin’s mind as he tried to change back after Tamlin had—

A sound behind her caught her attention, and Feyre realized she was still being followed by Tamlin’s soldiers. She started running again, still scared, still uncertain.

She’d been away visiting Helion in the Day Court to practice her spell cleaving skills with him when Rhysand had decided to “prank” Tamlin and cause this whole mess in the first place. Since then, she’d been working with the rebellion brewing in the other courts in an attempt to stop Tamlin, and fix his mind. So Feyre hadn’t run into him yet, she hadn’t seen her husband in months. But she’d heard stories—second hand accounts about what he was doing, how he was running his court.

Feyre had wondered about the limits of Tamlin’s power, and he’d never been very forthcoming about it. She knew, obviously, that he could shapeshift, and that he could shapeshift other people and warp the environment around him, as he’d shapeshifted his sentries into wolves and as he’d displayed bits and pieces of his power to her when he was still cursed, like changing the large table they’d first ate at to a small one, and lighting candles with the snap of his fingers. But she’d never put two and two together to realize how objectively terrifying it was that Tamlin could not only warp his body, but warp everything around him. And everyone.

Rhysand, currently, was stuck in the form of a rabbit, and similar things had been said about anyone who had tried to fight Tamlin so far. He’d changed people into animals. Multiplied people’s cells to give them cancers—and a slow, painful death. He’d changed the air in another person’s lungs to water, drowning them where they stood.

And while there were other daemati in addition to Rhysand, such as Feyre herself, Tamlin was the only known shapeshifter. Feyre’s shapeshifting abilities only extended to her own body, and compared to what Tamlin was doing, were next to nothing. She was incapable of reversing his actions. Perhaps it had taken Tamlin abusing his power for everyone in Prythian to understand just how much he had, how much he held back on a day to day basis.

Pushing aside those thoughts, Feyre continued to run, only to feel something graze her calf, sending a searing pain up her leg. Unwittingly Feyre tumbled to the ground, hissing as she hit the stones below her. Looking to the side to see what had hit her, and feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion, she was horrified to see that it was an arrow—an ash arrow, coated with some sort of substance. They’d drugged her.

The footsteps were close now, but Feyre could barely concentrate. She had to get up, had to move, but her body wouldn’t listen. She could barely crawl. The world was spinning, and her arms were shaking, and she could barely move…

Feyre collapsed again just as the footsteps reached her, and the world went black.

~~~

The first thing Feyre registered, as she slowly came to, was that she was laying in something soft. Something soft and warm. Then came the fingers gently carding through her hair, tucking a few rebellious strands behind her ear, and a very familiar earth-and-honey scent. Her mate.

Instinctively she turned to her side, nuzzling into Tamlin’s chest, seeking out his warmth. Feyre felt him chuckle. “I knew you missed me,” he mumbled, his tone almost smug.

There was something wrong about this, something… something Feyre needed to remember. But she could worry about that later, and she was content to stay here and let him pet her, surrounded by his scent and warmth and—

Then the memories came back: Adriata. The rebellion. Tamlin.

Feyre opened her eyes and shot up, surprised to find herself back in their bedroom, laying in bed alongside—

Alongside him. Tamlin had the audacity to play with her hair and sleep beside her as if she hadn’t just been kidnapped by his sentries in Adriata. As if he wasn’t about to torture her for information. Looking down at herself, Feyre realized she had some sort of silver necklace around her neck. Closing her eyes, Feyre briefly tried to reach out with her magic, hoping to use her daemati abilities to at least buy her time to escape, but Feyre found it impossible. It wasn’t just a necklace, then—it was a power dampener. Practically a collar. And Tamlin had put it on her.

Shivering and refusing to meet his gaze, Feyre pulled back out of the bed—or she tried to, at least, before he grabbed her arm, his claws sliding out, before she could leave fully. “Stay,” he commanded, and Feyre finally looked up at him, truly looking at her husband for the first time in months.

His hair was short, now, and he was wearing a soft, white nightshirt and pants. A small part of Feyre was glad that he looked healthy, at least, if she ignored his piercing red eyes. Whatever Rhysand had done to Tamlin had changed his eye color, from the soft emerald green Feyre had grown to love to a harsh crimson, worsened by his current glare.

Feyre cringed and looked down again, and he let go of her arm before crossing his. “Where, exactly, were you going?”

Away from you, Feyre wanted to say, but she held her tongue, remembering the stories she’d heard about Tamlin’s newly vicious temper. After deliberating for a moment, Feyre spoke up. “I was going to protect myself. I know of the torment your prisoners go through, so I wanted to prepare myself for the inevitable.” He raised an eyebrow, though his glare had lessened. “You don’t need to be afraid of me, Feyre.”

Shivering, still, Feyre asked, “Why not?”

Sighing, Tamlin grabbed her shoulders, holding them surprisingly gently as he slowly stopped her from shaking. Then he moved a hand beneath her head and used a single knuckle to tilt her face up to look at him. “You are my wife, Feyre, not my prisoner.” For a moment Feyre let herself breathe, sighing in relief. Then Tamlin spoke up again. “Why have you been running from me, all these months?”

Feyre bit her lip, not sure whether to lie and appease him or speak the truth and risk his temper. Tamlin answered for her. “I want the truth, Feyre.”

Looking down, Feyre said, “I’d heard what you were doing to people, what you’d let yourself become. I didn’t know what to think or expect.” Slowly, Feyre met his gaze again. “Why are you hurting people, Tamlin?”

Instead of answering, Tamlin simply gave her a strange, almost predatory smile. “I’m letting go, Feyre. I don’t have to control myself every moment of every day, anymore. I don’t have to struggle not to hurt everyone else. I do what I want.”

He almost sounded genuinely happy about it. Almost. But it still didn’t answer her question. “But why, Tamlin? Why are you hurting people? Why are you trying to take over Prythian?” It was a question everyone in the rebellion was struggling to understand. Rhysand may have messed with his mind, may have made him violent and twisted and cruel, but power hungry? It didn’t make sense.

“For you, of course.”

What?

“I’ve told you before that I hate being a High Lord, Feyre. I don’t want to rule Prythian for myself. I’m going to give Prythian to you, and to any future children of ours. I’ll simply enforce your rule, ensure a peaceful reign for you.” Then Tamlin smiled, as if his plan wasn’t insane. “And the best way to enforce peace is through force, Feyre. Obedience or punishment.” Tamlin said it so simply, as if he wasn’t being borderline barbaric.

Feyre shook her head. “I don’t want to rule Prythian.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, Tamlin, I really don’t.”

He simply titled his head, then laughed. “You’re so funny, Feyre.” Then he slowly pulled himself out of the bed, and he gestured for Feyre to do the same. “Get dressed, Feyre. I have some things to show you.”

Not wanting to risk his temper, Feyre did as he said.

~~~

It was minutes later when Feyre found herself following Tamlin as they snaked through the walls of Rosehall. Their once beautiful home had been transformed to a nightmarish estate, and the servants that always seemed to be chatting happily now cringed in fear away from them, though a few of them gazed hopefully at Feyre. What had Tamlin done?

Tamlin had grown quiet as they got closer to their destination, and looking around him Feyre saw the throne room before them. And there, on his knees and between two sentries, was Lucien. Feyre hadn’t seen Lucien in months, either.

Tamlin growled as he caught sight of him, and Feyre noted that even the sentries cringed at the noise. Then the strangest thing happened. It seemed that reality itself was… warping. Changing.

Black cracks began to form on the ground, slowly spreading out from where Tamlin stood, and in the cracks Feyre saw small, twinkling lights. Like stars. Between them the floor itself seemed to… melt, almost, suddenly becoming less solid, like mud, almost. Including where Feyre stood.

“Tam,” she called out, trying to get him to stop, to calm down, to fix whatever he was doing.

Tamlin looked back to her for a moment, and blinked, as though remembering she was here with him.

Then the ground re-solidified beneath Feyre’s feet, and the cracks disappeared as reality seemed to reorient itself. In front of them, both Lucien and the sentries sighed in relief, as though something horrible had just been averted. Feyre was sure something had been.

Then Tamlin spoke, and his words were like ice. “You were going to take Feyre away from me.”

Lucien just jutted out his chin, his shoulders back, eyes defiant. “You have no proof of anything, High Lord.” Lucien practically spat out the title, and Feyre found herself taken aback, for a moment. Tamlin and Lucien had always been close, and in the century she and Tamlin had been married, Lucien had only ever used Tamlin’s title jokingly.

Tamlin growled again, and Feyre noted the fangs beginning to form at the sides of his mouth. “My sentries caught you conspiring with the rebellion to get Feyre back. Perhaps you’d like to see the notes they found?”

Lucien went pale, and he seemed to slump even closer to the ground.

Tamlin extended a finger, and Feyre realized that his hands had grown claws again. “You’ve betrayed me, Lucien. And I don’t tolerate betrayal.”

“Tamlin, please,” Feyre interjected, hoping to stop whatever he was going to do.

Tamlin and Lucien both ignored her, and the latter spoke up. “So kill me, then. Punish my disobedience, High Lord.”

But Tamlin simply chuckled, something cold that made Feyre’s stomach twist in on itself. “You would wish for an easy punishment, wouldn’t you?” Lucien went paler, if he could, and tried to back away, only to be caught by the sentries again. Tamlin spoke one final time. “Death is far too easy for what you did. I’m interested in something more… satisfying.”

Then Tamlin reached forward and waved his hand, and Lucien crumpled to the ground, beginning to shake and groan. Feyre ran forward to try to help him, to pull him up, but Tamlin grabbed her arms again, holding her back.

Feyre watched in something akin to horror as Lucien began to scream—and slowly transformed into… something. Tamlin’s transformations had always been instantaneous, had always been hidden in a flash of light, but this? He was purposely prolonging it, purposely letting Feyre and the sentries watch how grotesque and painful transformation could be, purposely using his power to torture Lucien.

Lucien screamed again and Feyre turned back to Tamlin. “Stop this, Tamlin. Please,” she begged.

But he merely looked at her, raising an eyebrow, even as Lucien continued screaming, even as his scream changed to something more… animalistic.

He wasn’t going to listen. Still restrained by Tamlin, Feyre turned back to Lucien, watching in horror as his limbs seemed to elongate, as the bones within them seemed to snap and slowly fuse back together, as his muscles and joints contorted and as grey fur slowly cut through his skin.

Feyre turned aside, and vomited. Tamlin held her, rubbing slow circles into her back as Lucien’s screams morphed to moans, and as his moans changed to whimpers. Then he was done, and the room was silent.

Turning back around, Feyre found herself staring at a pool of blood—with a large grey wolf in the center. Lucien.

Blinking back her tears, Feyre curled her hands into fists. “Change him back.”

“What?” Tamlin asked, incredulous.

“Change. Him. Back.”

Tamlin snorted. “Why should I? He needed to be punished, for what he was doing.”

“He was looking out for me!” Feyre pleaded. “He thought I was in danger, Tam. That you were endangering me. Because you are .” Tamlin recoiled, snarling, but Feyre continued. “You got so angry about seeing Lucien that your magic began to rip apart reality, Tamlin. You’ve been changing people’s forms as you see fit. How long before you do that to me?”

“I would never,” he hissed. “You are my wife, my mate, my love. I would never harm you, Feyre.”

“Then prove it. Change him back right now.”

Tamlin’s claws slid out again, but he balled his hands into fists regardless, before looking back at where the wolf that had been Lucien was laying on the floor. He waved his hand, and—

Nothing happened.

Feyre turned back to Tamlin. “Change him back, Tamlin. Now.”

But Tamlin merely raised an eyebrow. “I am.”

“I don’t see his transformation,” Feyre said, knowing she was pushing Tamlin’s limits—but not caring, anymore.

But Tamlin gave her that same sickly grin, again. “You said I had to change him now, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So I’m changing him now. Or more accurately, his transformation back is beginning now.” His smile was still cold as he added, “It’ll take a few days to complete. He's changing back cell be cell. Tissue by tissue. Organ by organ.”

Feyre gasped. Lucien’s transformation just now had seemed painful enough when dragged out for a few minutes, but dragged out over several days? It was torture, pure and simple.

“Tamlin, please—”

“I’ve done as you asked, Feyre. But I won’t do anything more, no matter how much you plead.”

Feyre closed her mouth, unable to believe what she was hearing. This wasn’t Tamlin—not at all. He would never torture his best friend for days on end, like this. Rhysand what have you done?

Feyre had to fix his mind, had to undo whatever damage Rhysand had done. But Mother only knew how she was going to do it.

#feylin #feyre x tamlin #tamlin x feyre #tamlin #feyre archeron #acotar #my fanfics #feylin fic #a court of thorns and roses

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zaharya · 3 years ago

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Masterpost [Zaharya]: Fics and Projects

All of the fics listed below the cut are on my AO3; individual links in each title. But first, links to a couple posts you might be looking for if you came to my Tumblr on purpose.

Important posts and Masterlists

Scrivener Tutorials Masterlist – list of all my Scrivener tutorial posts

ADHD science ramble, ADHD strategies

Synopsis for Part 1 (Summer) of MTP – Previous pinned post; wouldn't want to lose that, right?

Whumptober 2021 Masterlist – overview including prompts and summaries for all my Whumptober 2021 fics

Side-projects and Community

Chaotic side-blog: @zaharya-unfiltered

Project side-blog: @facial-expression-descriptions where I'm (very slowly) creating a library of facial expression gifs/images and collecting people's descriptions for said expressions.

Discords: The Merlin Library — BBC Merlin fandom server (info @themerlinlibrary) Cosmere Corner — Cosmere fandom server (info here)

In case anything of what I do was/is helpful for you or you just really enjoyed some of my writing, and if you feel so inclined, you can support me on Ko-Fi – any support is immensely appreciated!

My Writing | Fic-Masterlist

Under the cut are all my fics! I hope you enjoy!

Fic info setup:

Title – Rating, word count Main pairing(s) & relationships Era/AU; Summary / what to expect [Fest the fic belongs to, if applicable]

Fandoms:

Merlin (TV)

Harry Potter

Shadow and Bone (TV)

Series

Drabbles for Dopamine – mixed fandoms Z's Whumptober 2021 – Merlin (TV)

Merlin (TV)

Blackout, Beaming, Gold – M, 18.7k, with Art by Sunfall_of_Ennien Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Steampunk AU, Slave!Merlin; Combines various prompts for Whumptober 2021; Merlin was enslaved years ago but nobody can afford to buy him, Arthur doesn't want a slave but Uther insists – destiny takes its course. With steampunk fashion, gun fights and protective!Aithusa as a giant, winged murder kitten. [Whumptober 2021]

Get Him Back – M, 14.6k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Loaded March spin-off; Set in the beginning of LM part 8 (Groundwork), though it's not entirely necessary to have read LM in order to read this one. (You should totally read it tho because LM is amazing.) Featuring a kidnapped hurt (and ridiculously powerful) Merlin, protective BAMF Captain Arthur Pendragon, precious bby Mechadragon, and some of my favourite combat scenes I ever wrote.

Horizons Over Battlegrounds – T, 14.5k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Gwaine & Merlin, The Knights & Merlin Canon Era; Canon divergence starting in episode 04x04 "Aithusa" – magic reveal, baby Aithusa, and a BAMF Merlin losing his cool after a prank gone wrong. Good thing that Arthur is around to try and calm him down. [Merthur Glompfest 2022, Merlin Bingo 2022 square A2 "Happy Ending"]

What matters is what you make of it – T, 11.4k, with Art by @rhiadan Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era; Canon divergence from episode 02x01 "The Curse of Cornelius Sigan" – Merlin's power has a will of its own, both Merlin and Arthur are scared, but also angry, and there is (once again) a lot of very visually descriptive magic. [Merlin Reverse Big Bang 22/23, Merlin Bingo 2023 square M4 "Anxiety"]

I Didn't Know That I Was Starving 'till I Tasted You – G, 8.1k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era; Angsty aftermath of Arthur finding out about Merlin's magic, with both idiots of them thinking the other doesn't want to see them. Merlin stops eating, Arthur drowns in guilt – but they'll figure it out. (There's always a happy ending with me.) [Whumptober 2021]

Dragon's Legacy – T, 7.7k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era; Dragon!Merlin (ish) – Arthur manages to kill Kilgharrah, who then bestows his magic unto Merlin to preserve dragon-kind. [Merlin Bingo 2022 square I5 "Forced Body Modification"]

I wish I'd known then – T, 7.5k (WIP) Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Modern AU; Merthur watches Heartstopper (spoilers for HS season 1) – the one where Arthur realises how things could have gone between him and Merlin. So much pining. [Merlin Bingo 2023 square I2 "Roommates"]

Noble('s) Wrath – M, 7.1k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, magic reveal; The knights of a visiting noble hurt Merlin – cue: furious protective Arthur. Just your classic Hurt/Comfort fic with mildly graphic violence and a lot of fluff to make up for it. [Whumptober 2021]

A Faire Fight – T, 6.7k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Modern Era, post-return; Merlin takes Arthur to a medieval faire to help him feel more at home. They fight in a tourney and are fluffy and cute. [Merthur Glompfest 2023, Merlin Bingo 2023 square G2 "Competitive Idiocy"]

My Breath In Your Lungs – M, 6.5k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Merman!Merlin AU, modern setting; After saving a man from drowning, Merlin is captured by humans and imprisoned in a tank. Featuring a dramatic rescue and a bonus chapter just for the pining. [Whumptober 2021]

His Most Treasured Possession – M, 5.9k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, Court Sorcerer Merlin; Primarily fluff; post-episode s04e02 magic reveal, Merlin keeps Arthur's sigil – until he loses it. Except he didn't lose it, Arthur stole it back to propose properly. [Merlin Bingo 2023 square I1 "Loss of a treasured possession"]

Waters Deep (As Your Secrets) – T, 4.3k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, magic reveal; Begins at the end of s01e07 (The Gates of Avalon), as Sophia attempts to drown Arthur. Featuring considerate, soft Arthur (with newly acquired trauma), and protective Merlin who really should reconsider talking to himself out loud. More Hurt/Comfort because that's what we like in this house. [Whumptober 2021]

Stay With Me – M, 4.3k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, magic reveal, temporary character death; Did I say Hurt/Comfort earlier? Yes, well, here's peak Hurt/Comfort with enough Hurt that more than 10 people shouted at me – but I promise there's an equal amount of comfort (ask @swisstae if you doubt me)! With BAMF Merlin getting stabbed as thanks for protecting Uther, protective, vengeful BAMF Arthur, iconic BAMF Leon, and very visual magic (partly inspired by the song Illumielle by Jo Blankenburg). [Whumptober 2021]

Overwhelm – G, 3.1k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Modern setting, college/university; Merlin is stressed and overwhelmed, Arthur is here to support him (and perhaps confess a secret). Just another escalated drabble.

No Stranger At All – T, 2.8k Merlin & Gwaine Canon Era, (partial) magic reveal; Gwaine sees Merlin being captured by Cenred's men and intervenes – turns out Merlin doesn't need saving. Protective bestie Gwaine has my heart, and that's really all this is. [Whumptober 2021]

Something True – T, 2.8k Gwaine/Lancelot Canon Era, magic reveal, episode s04e02 (The Darkest Hour); A Gwaincelot alternative to the atrocious lies in episode s4e02 (The Darkest Hour). Angsty because Lance is a drama queen in his POV, but as always with a guaranteed happy ending.

Supper and Reassurances – G, 1.3k; sequel to Something True Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, post-magic reveal, post-episode s04e02 (The Darkest Hour); Merlin wakes after the events of Something True, Arthur is overprotective. The comfort part of Hurt/Comfort.

It's Pretty – G, 2.3k Gwaine/Gia (OC) – background: Merlin/Arthur, Percival/Elyan, Leon/Morgana, Lancelot/Gwen Canon Era, soulmate AU; Gwaine doesn't have a soulmark, until the arrival of an odd stranger. A slightly reimagined first meeting for Gwia, because Harley asked for it. Mostly humour and fluff.

A Mark Of Survival – G, 1.7k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, canon divergence post-episode s05e13 (The Diamond of the Day); Aftermath of the Battle of Camlann, featuring soft bois and scar reveals. Gentle hurt/comfort. [Whumptober 2021]

The Court Sorcerer's Chambers – G, 1.7k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, post magic reveal; Pure fluff about Merlin settling into his new position as Court Sorcerer (and King Consort).

Burn Like Her, Burn Like Me – M, 1.6k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, post magic reveal; Merlin gets tortured. ... No, that's literally it. (With a happy ending tho, of course.) [Whumptober 2021]

Just a Chill – G, 1.5k Gwaine/Lancelot Canon Era, post magic reveal; Originally written for Gwaine/Gia, now featuring a sick Lancelot and (again) very visual magic. Angst with a happy ending. [Whumptober 2021]

Easy As Breathing – G, 1.5k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, post magic reveal; Pure fluff – Merlin and Arthur hunker down in Arthur’s chambers during a storm. [Merthur Glompfest 2023, Merlin Bingo 2023 square G5 "Dating"]

Lancelot's Last Resort – G, 1.4k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, magic reveal, episode s04e02 (The Darkest Hour); Another alternative for the atrocious lies in episode s4e02 (The Darkest Hour), this time featuring Lancelot doing the unthinkable – betraying Merlin's trust – and an expectedly outraged Arthur. Emotional Hurt/Comfort (as always with a happy ending). [Whumptober 2021]

One Day – G, 1.2k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era, episode s03e02 (The Tears of Uther Pendragon); How the iconic conversation in 3x02 (The Tears of Uther Pendragon, Part 2) could have gone if Arthur was a little more observant. Hurt/Comfort with a worried, protective Arthur, confused Merlin, and Merlin's scars revealed.

(Don't You Dare) Let Go – G, 1k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Canon Era; Just your average Tuesday capture by bandits and subsequent escape with an unfortunately positioned cliff. Technically whump, but really mostly humour. [Whumptober 2021]

just one more – T, 1k Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Modern Era; Angst with a (potentially ambiguous, if you read it that way) happy ending – Merlin gives up after 1500 years of waiting. [Merlin Bingo 2022 square A4 "Winter"]

Merlin Drabbles

Three Days – G, 938; Merlin/Arthur quiet whispers and rain-lit gold – G, 582; Merlin/Arthur The Bet – G, 445; Merlin/Arthur That One – G, 442; Gen, future Merlin/Arthur implied And don't you dare stop doing it – G, 249; Merlin/Lancelot

◇◇◇

Harry Potter

Mine to Protect – E, draft at 244k (WIP) Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Remus Lupin/Severus Snape, Severitus (Severus is Harry's father) Canon divergence starting after the Ministry battle in OotP; I could try to summarise this somehow, but really this one is my big one. So, there's a bit of everything, including sickeningly sweet fluff, somewhat graphic violence, humour, angst, assorted tropes, and a whole lot of plot. Click here for a Synopsis for Part 1 (Summer), aka. chapters 1-30 of MTP.

A good, normal life – E, 14k Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy Muggle modern AU; Harry and Draco meet at a club and become fast friends. They're both pining idiots and there's a bit of angst but (as always) a happy ending. Based on a dream.

Why would he eat it?! – T, 4.5k Harry/Draco, Remus/Severus, Severitus (Severus is Harry's father) Post-MTP AU; Severus accidentally eats Harry's old, frozen LSD. Based on a true story (nope, not kidding, that happened).

HP Drabbles

The Veil – G, 393; Harry/Draco Beltane – G, 294; Harry/Draco Nighttime Disturbances – G, 611; Remus/Severus Silent Mountain – G, 687; Harry/Draco Nighttime Sweets – G, 627; Remus/Severus, Harry & Severus What did you just say? – G, 664; Harry/Draco Designs – G, 277; Harry/Draco Of Nargles and Gurdyroots – G, 767; Blaise/Luna Elixir of Dreams – T, 314; Remus/Severus Another Drink, Another Cartwheel – G, 281; Severus & Gia, Harry & Severus

◇◇◇

Other Fandoms

Their Future – G, 1.4k, Shadow and Bone (TV) The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov Canon Era; Emotional comfort fluff, with Aleksander worrying about his suitability to be a father and Alina supporting him.

#Zaharya's writing #masterlist #fanfiction #bbc merlin #merlin #harry potter #shadow and bone #adhd #scrivener

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kayte-overmoon · 3 years ago

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"Slow Cherry" Chapter 6

(cross-posted on AO3)

This is the most recent update for Slow Cherry at the time I'm posting this (Sept. 15), so Tumblr is now synced with AO3. Updates will be cross-posted on both from now on :)

Tags: shameless Princess Bride References, first meeting, first kiss, they're so obnoxious already, I love them

Snippet: He fiddled with the thick pewter ring on his left thumb, contemplating taking it and the rest of the jewelry off.

“Dream?”

He looked up from his hands, breath catching at the voice that was both familiar and foreign.

Read Chapter 1 Here

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This chapter contains no explicit content.

Dream was standing in the arrivals terminal, trying not to throw up.

He’d never been more nervous in his whole life. Not when he moved out of state for school, not when he sold his computer code, not even when he went on his first date in high school.

He kept checking the thighs of his pants to make sure he wasn’t leaving visible sweat stains every time he wiped his hands off. He was wearing a nicer pair of jeans that Sapnap had once told him made him look “dummy thick” and a black button-down shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows—half because he was sweating his brains out and half because he remembered the way George had stared at his hands over their video call. Black shoes, a couple rings, and a chain necklace, and he felt way overdressed. God, why did he go with the jewelry? This was an airport, not a fucking club.

He fiddled with the thick pewter ring on his left thumb, contemplating taking it and the rest of the jewelry off.

“Dream?”

He looked up from his hands, breath catching at the voice that was both familiar and foreign.

“George?”

A brilliant grin broke out on the brunet’s face as he abandoned his rolling suitcase and barreled into Dream’s chest. Dream gasped, wrapping his arms around him, cursing the backpack that was in the way of holding George properly.

He was here. He was actually here.

A soft giggle puffed against his neck. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Dream blushed, not realizing he’d spoken out loud. He just tightened his arms around him to keep him from noticing Dream’s flub.

Wild dark hair tickled his nose as he ducked his head. He smelled of airplane and day-old shampoo, but beneath it, there was the distinctive scent of George. Dream was already addicted to it.

“You didn’t tell me you were so short.”

George scoffed, jabbing Dream in the ribs as he pulled back just enough to look at him. Up close, George was twice as pretty as he was on screen—how was that even possible? His eyes were dark brown, shining gold at the pupils, lined with thick lashes. His cheeks were flushed, pink lips stretched over a dazzling grin. He was just wearing a familiar black hoodie and comfy-looking sweats, but he managed to make even leisurewear look good. He was warm and solid in Dream’s hands, looking up at him like there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be.

“You’re just obnoxiously tall,” George griped. “What do you even need all that height for?”

Dream smiled mischievously. “For this.”

George yelped, feet leaving the ground as Dream bent his knees and lifted him up. George giggled madly, tucking his face into Dream’s neck, arms and legs koala-ing around him as Dream squeezed him tight. A content sigh left the brunet. “That’s a good enough reason, I guess.”

Dream closed his eyes, drowning out the airport traffic around them as he breathed in the man wrapped around him. His heart was pounding wildly, his nerves and excitement swirling in his chest and morphing into something new, something that scared the shit out of him but felt too good to stop. It was like taking your first hit of a drug and knowing it was wrong, but the way it made you feel outweighed the guilt of taking it.

They embraced for a few moments more before George started squirming. “Dream,” he said softly. “Let me go. I’m done with airports for the day. Maybe forever. Haven’t decided yet.”

Dream snorted and set him gently back on his feet. He was reluctant to let him go, afraid he would disappear if he stopped touching him. Something must have shown on his face, because as soon as he was standing on his own, George reached out and laced his cold fingers with Dream’s. He pulled their entwined hands up to his face, pressing his lips against Dream’s knuckles. He blinked up at him with wide, tired eyes. “Take me home, Dream?”

Heart stuttering and words leaving him, Dream nodded.

Dream pulled him over to the luggage carousel, yanking George’s bigger suitcase off the line when he pointed it out. They each pulled a suitcase behind them, their clasped hands swinging between them. Dream led him out to the parking garage where he’d left his car, clicking the button to unlock his trunk as they approached.

George stopped a few steps away, his hand slipping from Dream’s. “Wait.”

Dream frowned, looking at him cautiously. Had he changed his mind? Was he uncomfortable? Oh God, had Dream been too unprofessional, too familiar? Had he fucked this up already? Had he—

“This is your car?”

“Yes?” Dream said. He glanced at the car: a sleek sports-car that handled well in the city, a couple years old but clearly above the average pay grade. “Is something wrong with it?”

George blinked, staring at the car as Dream put his bags in it. “This is—I think you lied when you said how rich you are.”

Dream chuckled, the tension in his chest easing a little. “I never told you how rich I am.”

“And there’s the problem.” George’s mouth quirked in a smile as he handed over his backpack for Dream to put in the car. “How rich are you, Dream?”

Dream smirked. “I think it’s best you don’t know.”

“Okay, well.” George stopped, seeing he wasn’t going to win an argument with that opener. He stepped closer to Dream, leaning against the car, invading his space. His voice dipped down to that husky register that sent a fizzle of heat through Dream’s chest. “If you’re going to be my sugar daddy, I think it’s only fair if I know how much I can ask for.”

Dream laughed, reaching out to brush his thumb across his cheek. “Nice try.” He pulled George away from the car so he could shut the trunk. “Just get in the car, sweet cheeks.”

George pouted but rounded the car to get in, huffing the whole way. Dream rolled his eyes and followed to get in the driver’s seat.

“Do you want to navigate me?” he asked. “Or you can give me the address and I can—“

Lips against his stopped him mid-sentence.

George was kissing him, sweet and slow and Dream lost his head the second he registered what was happening. He grabbed George’s arm with one hand, the other running up his neck to curl in the hair he’d been itching to get his fingers in for months as he deepened the kiss, easily wresting control from the older man. George made a soft sound against Dream’s mouth, following his pace willingly. His hands were fisted in Dream’s shirt, pulling him across the console into his space.

It wasn’t comfortable, and neither of them could get a good grip on the other, but it was all Dream had wanted and more.

George pulled away after a moment, panting, and Dream couldn’t help but nudge his head up with his nose so he could kiss his way down George’s jaw. “Dream,” he breathed, hands curling around the back of Dream’s neck to pull him closer. “Oh, fuck, I—“

Dream nipped the skin of his neck, making him gasp. “Language, baby.”

“S-Sorry.” George tipped his head, silently asking for more. Dream complied, licking the salt from George’s skin as he panted against Dream’s ear. George hummed, a little quiver going through him that Dream felt against his hands. “Dream, I—not here.”

Dream growled a disappointed noise into the brunet’s hot skin, feeling the pulse thrumming beneath his lips. “You started it.”

“I know, I—God, I just wanted to…”

Dream pulled back, tipping George’s head back to meet his gaze again. His eyelids were drooping in a way that could either be from lust or from exhaustion. Probably both if he had to guess. “I know. Me too.” Dream kissed George again, keeping it soft as he licked the sweet taste of George’s lip balm from his lips—something faintly fruity and fresh, like strawberry and mint. He forced himself to pull away, licking his lips to savor the last of the taste. George’s eyes focused on Dream’s mouth, watching the faint movement of his tongue as his own mouth hung open. “But we need to get you home. You’re exhausted.”

“I’m n—“

“Don’t tell me you’re not.” Dream pulled his hands back, grabbing George’s hands to keep him from pulling him in again. “You’ve been in the air for 20 hours. The only thing I plan on doing to you tonight is get you settled in your apartment, order you some food, and kiss you goodnight.”

George blushed and stuck out his bottom lip in an adorable little pout that almost had Dream going back on his words immediately. “Fine,” George said. “But you’re coming over tomorrow to help me unpack and build furniture.”

Dream laughed, releasing George’s hands so he could start the car. “Deal.”

George fell asleep in the car, as Dream expected. He followed his phone’s directions to George’s apartment building, turning down the volume so he didn’t wake the other man. He kept stealing glances—as many as he could without crashing into a power pole. He curled himself in the seat, feet tucked under him, head pillowed on his arm against the door. At one point, his lips parted as he huffed soft breaths in his sleep.

How could one person be so perfect?

His apartment wasn’t far from Dream’s place—maybe a five-minute drive if traffic was in his favor. It was out of his way from school, though, and not within comfortable walking distance, so he wouldn’t have an excuse to just “be in the neighborhood.” That was disappointing, but probably a good thing. If he knew George was only a few doors down, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He could barely control himself now, the reality of the situation finally sinking in.

This was Mr. Not Found, the camboy he’d been pining after for months. The man who fueled Dream’s fantasies, who he’d gotten off to for the better part of two years. His sugar baby.

The man he was almost definitely falling in love with.

Dream was gritting his teeth at a stop light, cursing himself internally, when a hand slid over his on the gear shift. George apparently woke when the car stopped, blinking blearily around. He trailed his fingers over Dream’s hand, his touch focusing on the ring on his thumb and the pronounced vein on the back of his hand. Dream flexed his fingers around the gear shift just to watch George’s cheeks turn red.

“Good nap?” he asked as the light turned green.

Pulling his hand back, George nodded. “How close are we?”

“Like, two blocks away.”

George sighed, nodding as he slipped into a yawn. He stretched as much as he could in the confines of the car, looking utterly lost in Dream’s black hoodie. “Sorry. I’m not good company when I’m asleep.”

Dream smiled. “I don’t know. You were pretty cute, drooling all over the leather.”

George scrambled to wipe his mouth with the sleeve of the hoodie before realizing Dream was laughing at him. “Jerk.” He smacked Dream’s arm gently, making him laugh harder as he flicked the blinker to turn into the parking garage beneath George’s building.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Like I told you, you don’t have to entertain me or anything.” He flicked his gaze over to George. “It’s enough that you’re here with me.”

“Aww,” George cooed, leaning across the console to butt Dream’s arm with his head. “You’re such a simp.”

“Haha,” Dream deadpanned. He pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine. “Keep talking like that and I’ll make you put together all that IKEA shit on your own.”

George snorted and raised his hands in surrender, a glint in his eye. “Fine! I’m sorry. I’ll be good from now on.”

Dream rolled his eyes and opened his door. “We both know that’s a lie.”

George didn’t argue with that.

They retrieved the bags from the trunk and buzzed into the office to be let in. Dream was pleased to find the complex had a great security system: there were security guards in the garage and the lobby, and no one could get in without being let in by other residents or someone at the office. The lobby itself was nice, with high ceilings and modern, clean furnishings. A younger lady greeted them at the desk and helped George finalize his paperwork. She confirmed his identity with his passport, gave him his keys, and told him there were several packages waiting for him—the furniture he’d ordered.

Dream was even more pleased with the apartment itself. It was nice—not as nice as Dream’s, but close enough. There were synthetic wood floors, and the walls were freshly painted a light neutral cream color. The main area was open concept, the kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a little breakfast bar. There weren’t enough windows, in Dream’s opinion, but that was a given when you lived in the city.

George stood in the middle of the empty room, spinning in a circle to take it all in.

“Everything to your liking?” Dream asked, setting the bags down at the door. “If not, I can go bang a few heads in, or flash some cash and get you a better place.”

George laughed, turning to look at him. “No, thanks. This is great. I’ll need to go shopping for furniture in here soon, but most of the bedroom stuff is downstairs. Do you mind helping me bring that up?”

Dream shook his head and ushered him back downstairs.

There were only a couple boxes, none of them horribly heavy, but the lady at the desk got them a cart to take it all up. Dream was very thankful for the elevator.

They ordered some sandwiches from a nearby deli that Dream loved and set about sorting out the furniture. George said he was too tired to deal with most of it, so he convinced Dream to just find the box that contained his mattress and let it air out. While the mattress spread itself out on the bedroom floor, Dream helped George find the set of sheets he’d tucked away in his bags. They were old and well-used, but they would do for now. Dream made a mental note to buy some nicer ones before he came over next.

A weird sort of happiness crept over Dream as they sat in George’s empty living room on the floor, giggling and eating sandwiches together. It felt… right, somehow. Like this was what he’d been missing his whole life.

Thoughts like that were dangerous. They weren’t dating. They weren’t really even friends. George was just trying to live his life, and Dream was creeping on him and crossing boundaries in his mind. To George, Dream was just a convenient hookup while he got settled into his new life. To George, this was a means to an end, a way to warm his bed until something better came along.

It hurt to know Dream was just a client.

A foot nudged his own. “Hey.” George was looking at him oddly. He’d been talking, and Dream hadn’t been listening.

“Sorry,” Dream said.

“It’s okay.” He set his sandwich wrappings aside. “Do you want to go home, or…”

Something nasty twisted in Dream’s chest. He shot to his feet, brushing crumbs off his lap. “Yeah, I should get going. I’ve got… stuff to do.”

“Oh.” A spark flashed across George’s face, but he hid it quickly, standing as well and collecting their trash. “Right. Well. Thanks for picking me up. And for dinner. And for…” He made a vague gesture with his hand, color rising to his cheeks.

Despite the pit in his stomach, Dream smiled. “Thank you, George. It’s a delight to finally see you in person. Even better than through that 4K webcam.”

George cracked a smile. “Thanks.” He balled the trash in his hands. There wasn’t anywhere to throw it away yet, so he just held it uncertainly until Dream took it from him and stuffed it in the bag it arrived in to throw away on his way out.

“Will you be alright here for the night? You can come crash at my place if you…”

George shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ve got my bathroom stuff ready, and the mattress is comfy enough for now. I’ll probably be asleep before you even make it home.”

“Okay. Well.” Dream cleared his throat. “I’ll see you in the morning, then? To help you unpack and all that. I’ll bring breakfast?”

George nodded.

“Cool. I’ll, uh, see you then… then…”

He turned to leave but George caught him by the sleeve. “Wait.”

Heart doing somersaults, he stopped and faced George again. “What?”

“You forgot something.”

Dream looked around, patting his pockets to make sure he had his phone and his keys. “No, I think…”

George looked up at him from under his lashes, tapping his chin. “I was promised dinner, help getting settled, and…”

Finally, Dream caught on, remembering his words from the car. He smiled, stepping closer and tipping George’s chin up. “Of course,” he said. “I almost left without my goodnight kiss.”

Face flushed, George grinned, stretching up into Dream’s space until they shared the same breath. “I’d never forgive you if you did.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

Dream closed the distance between them, chasing the feeling of the camboy’s lips against his. George made the same content noise against him as he did the first time, relaxing into Dream’s hold. His arms slipped around Dream’s waist, not letting him pull away until he had his fill.

Dream held him close, one hand on his jaw and the other, the one holding the trash bag, on George’s shoulder.

All those thoughts from earlier disappeared. This wasn’t just any camboy; this was George. They’d spent late nights talking about video games, movies, life philosophies. He’d seen George at his most vulnerable state when he accidentally let his real name slip. He pushed Dream’s limits and knew what to say to rile him up. He drove him absolutely crazy.

George opened his mouth, tongue tracing over Dream’s upper lip to entice him into something more, but Dream pulled back with a groan. “No. We’re stopping before I decide I need to stay here.”

Acquiescing, George pulled back with a shrug. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

With his self-control waning, Dream tugged George’s hair just a little to keep him back. “Easy, there. You need sleep, and if I stay, neither of us is sleeping tonight.”

A disappointed, undeniably horny noise clawed its way from George’s throat and Dream very nearly said fuck it and dragged George over to the mattress on the floor. He took a pointed step back, so he was no longer touching the other man.

“Go to bed.” He backed up more, putting as much distance between them as he could. “I’ll be here at eleven so you can sleep in as much as you want. I’m bringing crepes.”

“Dream?”

“Yeah?”

A look that was far too innocent to be believable was leveled his way. “You’ll fuck me tomorrow?” George asked, voice soft as silk.

Dream grasped the doorknob to keep himself from doing something he’d regret. “Tomorrow,” he said, voice deeper than it had been a moment ago. “If you’re patient, I’ll fuck you tomorrow.”

George grinned, clearly having gotten the reaction he wanted.

Shortly after he got home, Dream got a message notification from George. He opened it, half expecting a raunchy text that would make him regret leaving.

But no. It was a meme.

It was a screen cap from The Princess Bride, a movie they shared a love for. It was the scene where Westley explains to Buttercup how every night while he was held captive, the Dread Pirate Roberts would tell him, “Good night, Westley. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.” But “Westley” had been poorly scratched out and replaced with “George,” and “kill” was now “fuck.”

George sent him a hand-crafted meme that said “Good night, George. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely fuck you in the morning.”

What a fucking nerd.

God, Dream was so in love with him.

After clutching his phone to his chest for a few moments, freaking out like a teenage girl, he saved the picture to his phone and responded.

As you wish.

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#fanfic #dnf #dnf fanfic #dreamnotfound #dreamnotfound fanfic #kayte overmoon #slow cherry #sugar daddy au #camboy au #first kiss #historians will say they were close friends

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cssns · 4 years ago

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Hello, Everyone!

Please welcome @searchingwardrobes to the CSSNS!

Tumblr Name * @searchingwardrobes

How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom? * I lurked for awhile before I posted my first CS fic on Ao3 in 2016, so five years. How is that possible?!?

When did you start shipping Captain Swan? * I started binge-watching the show in 2014 and started shipping CS during the Neverland arc.

What drew you to this event? * I did the first CSSNS back in 2018 because I had just joined tumblr and I was trying to get to know more people in the fandom. It worked, and I've made a lot of great friends!

What inspired your topic? * Another ghost story from my home town! This time about a girl who supposedly haunts a bridge, and if you drive over the bridge at midnight, you'll see her. I used to have to cross the bridge when I babysat, and the few times I had to cross it at midnight, I closed my eyes! Not a smart choice at all. Kids, keep your eyes open while driving, lol.

If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below. * When ebony flashes gold,

Blood runs cold.

When ivory runs red,

You’ll be dead.

Killian Jones gasped, his blue eyes flying wide open. He cursed himself and gripped the steering wheel tighter. Even though Liam wasn’t in the car, he could hear him clearly. “Bloody hell, little brother, it’s just a silly ghost story.”

Closing his eyes as he drove across the troll bridge when he’d only had his license for three weeks may not have been the dumbest thing Killian had ever done, but it wasn’t the brightest either.

Trolls didn’t really live under the bridge, of course. Some teenagers just thought it would be funny to spray paint an “R” between the “T” and the “O” in TOLL. It wasn’t a toll bridge either, or at least hadn’t been for a long time. Long enough for the metal box where people used to toss their change to rust over.

Killian’s jaw tightened as he passed the vandalized sign and his wheels thudded over the edge of the bridge. Before he could stop himself, he glanced into the rear view mirror.

A white nightgown shining in the dark night; golden hair blowing in the wind.

He squeezed his eyes shut again, an even more foolish decision than before, since the road now curved slightly to the left.

“It’s just your imagination,” he told himself.

Hallucinations brought on by hypothermia followed by post traumatic stress disorder . . . So read the clinical diagnosis that the psych ward gave Liam when Killain was discharged. The wolf, however, the one that bounded out in front of his car, eyes glittering cooly in the darkness, wasn’t an hallucination. Killian jerked the wheel as any typical inexperienced driver does, and right before he crashed into the pine trees, he saw it again. Golden hair . . . a white nightgown stained red with blood . . . Then everything went black.

What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event? Scaring people again like I did with one of my last CSSNS fics - An Education in Southern Gothic. I never thought I could do that, and my ideas for this one are even scarier. It's fun to work on something that is different for me and stretches my creativity. I am also excited to see what my artist will do with it! I don't know if I can say who she is yet, but I will say that she is amazingly talented, and I am thrilled to be paired with her.

Oh my goodness!! I'm so looking forward to this fic -- it sounds so intriguing!!!

#cssns #cssns 2021 #gtkm #writers

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your--isgayrights · 4 years ago

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Okay i actually have no clue on how tumblr works (hope I'm doing this right lmao) but I'm writing my first fic (I still can't really move on from orv so I decided to make my own content lol.), I really love your writing style, do you have any tips??

Hmmmm tips tips tips tips.... First of all I’m really flattered that you like my writing enough to ask me about it! I’ll try to give my best answer... I think that I used to read a lot of people’s “writing tips” but ultimately I ended up not really understanding them until I started writing a lot? Either way it’s fun to read how other authors think... It’s really cool that you’re writing your first fic and you thought to come to me... did I already say that? Okay long post under the cut.

I don’t think this will be all that helpful, but this is just things that I think about if that’s interesting!

For me a lot of writing is like struggling with motivation (I have ADHD so that’s probs why), I really have to pace myself while writing because I can’t just force myself to do it. If I go in every day and think “I have to write today I’m not doing anything so I should be writing” I can get burnt out really easily, even if I really like the thing I’m writing and know how it’s supposed to go. So one of my big things is that when I’m not thinking about writing I’m not thinking about writing. that gives my brain a break and refreshes me when I get back to my google document.

Something I’ve also struggled with having to remember is that there’s like. Never a perfect way to write. What I end up doing is thinking up ideas and fragments and sentences in my head and the very moment I think of something I like I have to write it down in my notes app. Most of my writing process ends up being like. Filling in the blanks and connecting the dots between scene fragments.

For fics in particular I’d also just recommend rereading your favorite parts of the og work! I’m the kind of person who has a pretty good reading memory, so people may have noticed that I include a lot of little details referencing the text in my fic. Just reading the work kind of helps you remember the voices of the character and the style of the narration, and if you just like. internalize it. you can probably replicate it pretty well if you wanted to.

OKAY I say that but don’t worry too much about replicating things in the og work perfectly. I find that a lot of times when I’m writing I’m inserting a lot of personal touches and putting things that are a part of me in the work. Writing is always going to be like. an extension of your voice, no matter what you’re writing. I think that when I heard about stuff like that from authors in the past I was always like. What? I’m not writing about things that happened to me. I’m writing about grown adult men having emotional issues, silly. But there’s like a lot more nuance to writing about yourself, I guess. Like you don’t have to have like a self insert or be projecting onto a character to have yourself reflected in something you’ve written.

I’d say that like, whatever you write as your first fic is going to be lovely, but when you grow up as a writer and look back on it, you’re not going to remember who you were when you wrote it. I think that’s why a lot of people look back on their first works and are like “I can’t believe I wrote that, what was I thinking, cringe cringe cringe ugh.” Like I definitely do that sometimes, but I’ve found that the old work I’m happiest with nowadays is the stuff where I can recognize myself in it, even if I’m not in that fandom anymore or if there’s old jokes or typos I don’t remember making.

With that being said, I’m the kind of person who always gives myself a mission statement when I’m writing. I sort of mentally go, okay, I’m writing this kind of thing, and this is why I’m writing it. It can be something like oh I’m writing this fluff piece because I love this character and wish they had a happier ending, or oh I want to write this multi chapter fic exploring an issue touched on in the original work but I feel like with my own experiences I could expand on it more than the author did. Just something that tells me why it is important to me to write this thing when I’m writing it.

AAAH I feel like I made that sound more dramatic than it really is, that’s just how I think I guess. I’m the kind of guy where its like things need to have like MEANING to me when I do them. I’m dramatic and gay and that’s my personality I guess 😔.

Hmmm maybe it’s also my BIGGEST writing tip tho. Like kind of just thinking things through when you’re writing is pretty important. When I was first learning to write at all (talking about baby baby me here this is like sort of a side tangent sorry) I think that a lot of times I would copy phrases and developments that I had liked in things that I had read without really fully considering why I would include those things other than the fact that that was just what I thought writing was. It’s important to consider what importance every scene and sentence has to do with the flow of the story. Are they just things that are happening, or is there a reason that the audience needs to know these things? The weight of your words should have some sort of consequence as a result of you writing them. Are you telling the audience information they need to know? Is it about how the character feels? What does this say about the character? Etc.

I suppose that’s sort of my own writing style. You’ll probably notice that I don’t write a lot of descriptive prose if you read my fic. The thing about me is that I never want to write something that makes my audience question why they’re reading it, I guess. I’m sort of self conscious and think about the reading experience a lot. All of the things I choose to describe are usually so that the reader can understand where people are in the scene and what emotions they are having. There’s a lot of emphasis that I put in like. A reader’s ability to read into things, which works against me sometimes because I’m not always certain if people picked up on different things that I put a lot of thought into (the curse of being seen... sob).

ALSO use paragraph breaks. In my first fic (that I’m not going to tell anyone what is even though its on ao3 because im shy) the thing I always regret the MOST is that there are big chunky paragraphs that are hard to read through at the start. Like my eyes get lost. I mentioned I have ADHD before but even though I like. physically can’t read a big chunky paragraph I will always write them that way if left to my own devices. Paragraph breaks don’t have to just be broken up by dialogue they can be wherever you feel like doing them. You need a lot of them. This post should probably have more of them... oh my god it’s so long...

OKAY FOR REAL THOUGH IF YOU COULDN”T SLOG THROUGHT THE REST OF THAT THE MOST IMPORTANT TIP IS RIGHT HERE:

JUST LET YOURSELF WRITE

I have a lot of like. academic trauma, so maybe this is just me, but the reason I didn’t write fic until I was like 16 was because I was always really scared that whatever I wrote wouldn’t be good enough for some impossible standard I was setting for myself. I was always telling myself that I had certain bad writing habits or that I was terrible for never being able to focus on things for very long and all of my projects were doomed to failure before I even started. But then I wrote my first like 8 chapter fic in the summer of my junior year and I was like... oh. that wasn’t so bad. Like. It’s okay to know your limits, but you don’t really know them until you start writing. Like I wrote an 8 chapter fic, and then a few one shots, and then I tried to take on a very complicated project that ended up being over 40 chapters and I had to put it down because I just wasn’t really at the writing level to finish it. I would advise against writing fics that take so long to write that you start hating the way you wrote the first chapter, basically lol. Know how whatever you’re writing is supposed to begin and end before you start writing it.

Nowadays I always have like. plot outlines in my head when I start a fic. Like okay this needs to happen here this needs to happen here etc. I like making lists if it seems to overwhelming when I’m writing something long, just to organize my thoughts.

OKAY I JUST TALKED A LOT. SORRY IF YOU DIDN’T WANT TO READ ALL OF THIS BUT I’M A LITTLE CHATTY IF YOU DIDN’T NOTICE.

Defo feel free to dm me if you have like questions or just want to chat about orv or whatever. I’m a lonely little man out here floating on my pile of words, and I’d love to hear what your fic is about!!

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destieldrabblesdaily · 5 years ago

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hello there (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ I'm pretty new to destiel and just found your blog because I wanted to look into some fanfics and someone recommended & turns that you have like a billion one shots for destiel! love your writing style but, I'm not sure where to start in your drabbles tag because it's soooo much (ﾟдﾟ) can u maybe point me to some popular ones or some that you preferred writing or something like that to get me started? thank you anyway (ʘ‿ʘ)ノ✿

Hey friend!

Ahh, I totally get you. :p A billion is a bit ambitious, but with like 400 stories in one tag and no way to sort, it might get tricky. *sweats nervously for not having a better tagging system*

But anyway, you rock for finding my blog and liking my style, so here is a little something to help you out! For starters, a lot of my stories are also on AO3, which is still a realm of chaos, but is a hell of a lot easier to navigate than my tumblr tag.

Anyway, here is a little map to get you started, sorted by my most popular Destiel fics (according to AO3), and ones I personally just loved writing!

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Canon!Verse fics, most popular:

1) CursedTeam Free Will is hunting a witch, but before she dies she turns Cas into a kitten. They can’t find a cure, and after two weeks everyone is losing hope. One night when Cas is sleeping on Dean’s chest, the curse fades and he turns into himself again. As Dean’s luck would have it, Sam walks into the living room seeing Dean sprawled out on the couch with a very naked Castiel on top of him.

2) JealousyWhen Dean, Sam and Castiel are having a drink at a bar after a hunt, Dean finds Cas flirting with a guy, and suddenly realizes something about his own feelings for the angel…

3) Dream A Little DreamCastiel goes after a Djinn but gets captured, and of course his dream world is all about Dean and him being happy together, so he’s very disappointed when Dean and Sam save him and he wakes up…

4) With A Little Help From My FriendDean is really nervous about finally telling Castiel how he feels, so he practices over Skype with Charlie. Naturally, Cas chooses that exact moment to drop by, and ends up hearing the whole thing…

5) WhiteboardFor a while now, there has been a whiteboard in Dean’s room. When failing to say the words out loud, there’s always the option to write them down. So that’s exactly what Castiel suggests, and Dean humors him, the two of them finding new ways to understand and forgive each other by working through some issues from both the present and the past.

—

Soulmate AU’s, most popular:

1) What Can’t Be SeenSoulmate AU where you first see color after eye contact: Cas is a famous best selling author and he’s promoting his book, so he’s talking to a crowd of people and suddenly his world is in color, and a lot of his fans pretend to be his soulmate. A Cinderella type situation ensues.

2) The PendantAU where instead of a tattoo/name everyone’s born with a pendant/charm necklace that matches their soulmate’s. Dean walks into their bathroom thinking it’s empty, but there’s Cas taking off his shirt to take a shower and Dean sees his necklace (that matches Dean’s, obviously) and freaks out (because Dean is totally 100% NOT gay at all). Bonus if Cas already knows.

3) Daffodils & Forget-Me-NotsSoulmate AU where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever the hell you want, it will show up on your soulmate’s skin as well.

—

High School AU’s, most popular:

1) No HomoFor the prompt: ‘I wasn’t gay, but then I kissed you in front of some homophobes to piss them off, and turns out I might be kinda gay for you after all’. In which a kiss makes Dean realize that he has feelings for his best friend.

2) This Game We PlayDean and Castiel have been best friends since they were little, and sleepovers are a common event. They’ve always loved playing the game where they draw out letters on each others backs and try to guess what the other is writing. Even though sixteen seems to be a bit too old to still play the game, Castiel uses it as a chance to silently confess something that he’s been wanting to share with Dean for a long time.

3) Camping and CuddlesDean and Castiel have been best friends since forever, and they decide to go on a camping trip to celebrate graduating high school. When it starts raining and Cas’ tent turns out to have a huge hole in it, the boys are forced to share Dean’s tent, and things heat up.

4) The CallCastiel accidentally butt dials his best friend Dean, and Dean overhears a conversation that wasn’t meant for his ears. Or: the one in which Dean finds out that his best friend has feelings for him.

5) Practice Makes Perfect‘It’s not gay if it’s practice, but shit that was actually really nice wanna practice some more?’ Or, the one in which Dean offers to help his best friend Cas improve his kissing skills, until it’s no longer just ‘practice’.

(If you are particularly into High School AU’s, I also made a complete list of al my HS AU’s that you can find here –> Click!

—

College/Roommate AU’s, most popular:

1) What It MeansDean’s roommate and best friend Castiel always says ‘I love you’ to him every night before they go to sleep. Seeing as Dean has some serious feelings for his friend, he can’t take the confusion any longer and one night asks Cas what it means when he says ‘I love you’.

2) If At First You Don’t SucceedFor the prompt: “Wait, did you just flirt with me?“ “Have been for the past year, but thanks for noticing.

”Dean has a huge crush on his friend Castiel, with whom he also shares an apartment. When he decides that he finally wants to woo Cas, everything that could possibly go wrong, does indeed go wrong.

3) UnbrokenDean’s best friend and roommate Castiel is asexual, and it’s causing Cas a lot of trouble when it comes to dating. Cas feels broken, but Dean deeply disagrees; he’d be with Cas in a heartbeat, if only Cas would see him as more than a friend…

4) Safe And SoundFor the prompt: ‘College!AU where Dean and Cas are roommates and one of them is afraid of thunder, so naturally they have to huddle/cuddle together until the storm is over.’

5) Hot & ColdDean and his best friend Castiel get stuck in the middle of nowhere when the Impala’s engine gives up on them. A snowstorm is raging, and it seems that the only way to keep warm is a method that sounds a lot like ‘naked cuddling’. Not that Dean is complaining.

—

Blind/Deaf AU’s, most popular:

1) Through Your EyesDean’s best friend Castiel is blind, which is why Cas loves it whenever Dean describes the things as he sees them. When Castiel gets curious and wants more details about Dean’s looks, Dean is reluctant to go into detail about them. Castiel’s solution is simple, and demands nothing more than a gentle touch.

2) At First SightDean has been blind since he was four years old, but at 18 years old he regains his sight through special surgery. This also means that he will finally be able to actually see his boyfriend Castiel for the first time. Castiel is excited, but at the same time utterly terrified that Dean won’t approve of his looks…

3) MisunderstandingsWhen the handsome new student Castiel Novak arrives at Lawrence High, Dean has every intention of making him feel welcome. However, Castiel seems to ignore Dean whenever Dean tries to talk to him…

4) DeliciousImagine your OTP, based on this text post: ‘Okay, so I’m a waitress at this restaurant that’s open really late and it’s nearly 1am and this family comes in and I’m so tired that I handed their BLIND SON a menu and he’s like “ah… thank you… I’ll just… read this” in a serious voice and I fucking snorted.'With blind!Dean and waiter!Cas.

—

Personal favorites to write:

1) Her Favorite Love StoryThe story of Dean and Castiel as seen through Mary Winchester’s eyes; AKA how she witnesses her oldest son fall in love with his best friend.

2) The MatchmakerBased on this prompt: “My cat keeps breaking into your apartment next to mine, so I tied a note to its collar to apologize, and you write back. We keep exchanging cat notes, and you turn out to be pretty cute.”

3) WingsWhen ten year old Dean Winchester and his family move to a new town, he becomes best friends with the boy next door, who happens to be an actual angel. Dean is fascinated with Castiel’s wings from the start, however when they get older, Cas suddenly starts hiding them and no longer wants Dean to groom them for him.

4) BlackboardsFor the prompt: 'Dean and Cas are both high school teachers, and they leave each other cute notes on each others’ black boards.’

5) To Date a DickCas is out on a date with a complete and utter asshole in a really nice restaurant, and Dean is their waiter who feels the need to intervene.

6) Angel Grace (2 Parts)Dean Winchester loves going to conventions to meet the cast of his favorite TV show 'Angel Grace’. Aside from being good at his job, lead actor Castiel Novak is charming, handsome, and has a heart of gold. Like many fans, Dean has a serious crush on the guy. However after meeting Castiel several times, it’s starting to look like Dean’s crush isn’t as one sided as Dean had always assumed it was.

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Holiday Specials:

❄ Destiel Drabbles: December/Christmas Edition Fluffy Christmas-themed Destiel stories to warm the cockles of your heart during the cold December days!

❄ All I Want For ChristmasDuring a big family get together, a drunk Castiel starts singing ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ to his best friend Dean while the whole family watches.

🕷Destiel Drabbles: Halloween EditionSome fluffy Halloween themed Destiel drabbles. Happy Halloween!

🕷Kiss Or TreatCastiel has been dutifully handing out Halloween candy all night, entertaining the many kids ringing the Novak house’s doorbell, but he’s in for a big surprise when the bell rings once more and it’s his crush Dean Winchester suddenly standing there on his front porch…

🕷Of Holding Hands and Haunted HousesFor the prompt: 'You’re scared of haunted houses and Halloween attractions, and I don’t even know you but your friends left you behind (what dicks) so I’m gonna hold your hand and get you through this, alright?’

♥Valentine’s DayFor the prompt: 'Cas anonymously sending Dean one of those school Valentine’s Day flowers with a little personalized note, thinking that someone as popular as Dean won’t notice his message anyway because he gets so many. Little does he know that Dean sent one to him as well…’

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If you feel like reading a multi-chapter Destiel fic, I wrote one of those as well:

Fortune CookiesDean and his best friend Jo own a bakery together. When a salesman named Crowley visits Dean to make a deal, Dean has no idea of the consequences, and his world turns upside down when an actual angel literally crashes into his life. For the first time in his thirty-year-existence, Dean is overwhelmed by real companionship, wings, and most of all… love.

—

Or for easily reading and clicking through short fluffy (mostly canon!verse) Destiel stories, go here:

~ 100 Days of Destiel Drabbles ~

Or here:

~ 30 Days of Destiel Drabbles ~

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Hope this was helpful, and happy reading! :D (I really need to become a better tagger, ahum. :p)

#Anonymous #replies for ts #destiel #deancas #fic rec #sort of #long post for ts

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