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dingleshartbeaufoy · 6 months

Text

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞

[masterlist]

henri clément x augustin lambert

tags - reverse au, religious undertones, graphic depictions of violence, angst + fluff

rated m - 6.3k words

warnings - suicidal ideation, graphic depictions of violence, major character death

— augustin has trapped the beast in administration, and the road to freedom becomes considerably more obscured.

(Pls rb + read on ao3 if possible 🫀)

[banner by reveriesources]

The steady scratching at the door doesn’t cease until the first flush of morning.

Is man awarded his identifier as human only while he exists in his human state? Is it torn away from him should he devolve, should he revert to something more primal? If consciousness separates man from beast, then what is he who toes the line between real and symbolic?

The meager window of daylight above the compact rubble is all that allows Augustin to hazard a guess at the time; it gets colder at night, and if he wants to, he can bask in the sunlight when he’s afforded it. It should be near four in the morning when the desperate scraping and distressed roars from the other side of the wall slow and then are silenced. Augustin hears nothing. Not a claw raking against the stone, not a wardrobe or empty fuel canister being clumsily knocked over. Nothing, and he’s not brave enough to shine his flashlight under the door, or poke his head through the window beside it.

If he were a better man, a better husband, a better friend, he would be able to muster up an oddment of sympathy and extend it to his friend. But he cannot, and the sun is rising, and he’s exhausted beyond measure, and he’s left his bandages and medlars stowed in the storage box to make room for routine trips from the arsenal to the generator. Fuel was scarce. Darkness was a death sentence. Who could blame him?

He wonders, briefly, as he trudges down the stairs and into mission storage if Adam and Eve felt such melancholy at their eviction. If they felt sick as they tried and failed to claw their way back into paradise. If the bile rose in their throat, and if they swallowed it back down.

Augustin bangs helplessly against Henri’s locker. The beast does not stir, the lights do not flicker, and the rats do not skitter about in the walls and ceiling or around his sore feet. The world is taking a moment of silence for him. He pounds his fists into the firm metal door again and again before he collapses against it, as if, should he try hard enough, Henri may walk right out. As if he had been entombed in an iron prison the entire time.

He feels closer to this cold, dented locker than to the gnarled remnant of his friend several hundred feet away from him.

───

Henri never did like the harsh overhead lights of the bunker, or of any place, for that matter. They cursed him with throbbing migraines and for the rest of the day he would be nothing short of irritable.

Augustin sits beside him on the mushy loam just outside the entrance, watching Henri pack his cigarettes before he fishes one out with trembling, nervous hands. Long fingers, defined tendons. The air is crisp and smells of rain, moonlight acting as Henri’s spotlight. He looks angelic. Godless. Augustin compels himself to avert his eyes and suddenly becomes very interested in the ground.

His hair is slicked back today after he nabbed a tin of hair pomade from Sergeant Reynard, both for his own devices and as a jab at the officer. It’s refined, but stray hairs curl up in places. Very abruptly does Augustin feel his heart hammering against his ribcage, begging to be let out, to bleed onto the mud. He swallows subconsciously, watching Henri’s lips open and close around his cigarette. It’s frigid. Augustin’s skin burns despite.

“Chilly,” Henri remarks as if he read Augustin’s mind. Augustin hopes that he can, so that it would save him the words. God forgive him. A small smile spreads across Henri’s mouth. God have mercy. He had visited the priest enough times this week. “Think my balls might freeze off.”

Augustin laughs a little bit too loudly, and his courage curls up in his lap and stays there. Henri casts him a sidelong glance, shadows sharpening his features yet he retains his softness. His expression is suspicious and knowing. Augustin clenches and unclenches his hands into fists.

Henri’s eyes drift down to Augustin’s hand, resting on the ground between them. A gold band welded to the base of his finger twinkles in the moonlight. “You miss her, don’t you?”

Augustin’s breath hitches. “Yeah. A lot.”

Henri’s hand inches towards Augustin’s and rests comfortably upon it, fingers curling around his palm. He lets the flat of his thumb run over the bumps and ridges of Augustin’s knuckles, his skin equally scarred but paler, more flushed. Henri always compared him to Rudolph, his red nose, cheeks, lips. Henri, planted in the same spot, leans toward Augustin. Half-lidded eyes fixed on their hands joined amidst the mud and dirt and worms. They are not so different from the beasts of the Earth.

His world is ending. This is as close as he’s ever gotten, close as he’ll ever be– Henri leans closer still. Henri, his best friend, brother in arms. If he had known him sooner, he probably would have asked him to be his best man at his wedding. Would he accept? Would he laugh and wrap his arm around his shoulder, and they'd ignore anything else that could have been? Would it die there? Would they meet one another in dark rooms shrouded in shadow, illuminated only by the light seeping through the stained glass window? Would they rack up their sins far beyond the threshold within an evening?

Henri leans closer, and Augustin feels his breath against his face, warm and wet and smelling of tobacco. When their lips lock, Augustin’s reality crumbles and he wakes in Delisle’s blood-soaked cot. He can bear to remember no more, not if it won’t bring him back.

───

It’s nearly comforting to leave fate in the hands of a higher, more capable power. He understands how the Catholics feel a little bit more deeply. He repeats the same mantra as he wraps his makeshift bandages around a deep laceration in his calf: it will not get infected, it will not get infected, it will not get infected.

He tightens the tourniquet and ties it into a knot. He could see the pale tan of his under-flesh, the bumpy red of muscle. A plague of rats watch him from the mouth of a hole as if waiting for something that will never come. Augustin is waiting, too. He has always waited.

Walking is wobbly and labored for a few feet before he regains his control and can dig his nails into his palm to deal with the pain. There’s no time to rest, and even less to heal. He dreads the pillbox, dreads the chapel. Not for the danger lurking, of which there is no longer any, but for the knowledge that once his business is done in these places, he can never return. Eternally unable to reconcile. He retrieves the key from the reverend and one of Henri’s journal entries from the confessional. He ignores the altar. He must ignore the altar.

When he exits, he boards the door shut, freely slamming his hammer against the nails without caution for the racket he’s creating. He hopes to hear the growls of yore, the bell that tolls for him.

It never comes.

───

Horror. Hell, an eternity spent. Is this his punishment? Is this why he was spared? While he languished in a peaceful slumber, albeit plagued by visions of an ancient, endless desert, while his compatriots were slaughtered?

Idly, he holds his helmet up for the German sniper to shoot, retrieves it from across the room, holds it up again. It’s what Henri would have done, Augustin thinks. If that beast were Boisrond, the poor bastard, or Toussaint, and they were traversing this inferno together. If Henri could have been his Virgil, he would have offered they have some teasing fun, suggested they decorate administration for the holidays, despite it being July. Just to see him smile, just to help him relax. Henri generates morale. He always has.

Now, though, he only generates dust falling from the ceilings, and an impending sense of hopelessness.

───

It’s a while before Augustin timidly raps his knuckle against the door.

What did he expect? A response? What feared he more, the echo or the answer?

Nothing. Augustin kicks against the door in diligent ignorance of the shooting pain gripping his leg. He screams, wails, curses, shoots the lock with his last two revolver bullets. Not so much as a huff, a grumble, the dragging of loose skin against the raw ground.

Nothing. Always nothing, nothing at all, leaving him drowning in a sea of non-existence. Augustin feels he might die. It would serve him right.

───

No place to go but forward, for no salvation lies in waiting.

He’s still as the grave as he descends the stairs and into the prison. In life, he was never permitted to enter, none of the low-ranking soldats were. But that restriction wouldn’t stop the prisoners from begging for mercy, screaming in agony as their secrets were tortured out of them. They, the soldiers, were not fools. They knew that the army had ways of making somebody talk. Rumors roused despite, bored rumors, and they’d sit in the mess hall and convince one another the screams were vengeful Roman ghosts from the tunnels. It was the only explanation their fragile psyches would be able to accept.

Augustin wonders what Henri was up to while he was comatose. Selfishly, he wonders if anybody but him cared to worry on his behalf, or if they were only ever focused on watching their flanks, which would be justified. He vaguely remembers a strange, warm presence a few inches away, but never close enough to latch onto. Was Henri tortured like the others? Was Henri a saboteur at all? A mutineer?

“Hallo?” Calls the prisoner into the darkness when Augustin carefully removes the metal grate to the warden’s office from its bolts. The moment he sets it down on the floor, the prisoner howls, begging in a language Augustin cannot understand. He’s safe now, the beast cannot harm him. Why is he crying?

“I’ve trapped the monster in administration,” Augustin calls back, as if the German knows what administration is, as if he even speaks French. The prisoner falls silent for a moment. Augustin slips into the office and stares down the cell block hall, palms pressed against the control panel.

“…Monster?” The prisoner calls back timidly.

“Fuck— Ja, monster. Monster… nein. Monster ist nein.”

Henri would have cackled in Augustin’s face. Would have doubled over in his laughter. Whenever he’d hear them, he’d commit to learning and memorizing the meanings of any German word or phrase. That way, if ever he was in a sticky situation for which there was no salvation, he’d be in better shape. He taught Augustin a handful of simple verbs and articles and plenty of swears.

Augustin scoffs. Learning German would not have pulled him out of that crater. The prisoner is silent when he retrieves the bolt cutters from beside him and silent as he ambles back to administration. Perhaps he knows, too, and he’s salvaging the last of his fraying dignity.

He may not be an officer, he may not be a criminal, but he is a perpetrator of this conflict. He can die here like the rest of them.

───

Augustin curls up in front of the door, coat draped over himself. A bitter chill has seeped into the bunker, blanketing the very marrow of his bones. Maybe Henri is back. Maybe he’s transformed from whatever that thing is back into his usual self. Maybe he’s tired from exertion. Maybe something killed him. There’s always a bigger fish.

Augustin feels abandoned. Constantly hunted, never truly safe, at least he wasn’t alone— at least he had company. Now, the only person watching him is God in Heaven. Who would have him now? Not his wife, after what he’d seen, not his son, who would not be able to bear the sight of his disheveled, hollow father. Augustin is not the same man he was when he was conscripted and he never would be that man again. What came of the officers who left? Do they feel guilt, does it gnaw at them every waking hour?

They should. They should, for what they’ve done to him, to the garrison, to Henri. Augustin cannot handle not being seen.

───

“I brought you food,” he speaks against the metal, cheek pressed against the door. “You’re hungry, aren’t you? What have you been eating all this time? Rats? Corpses?”

Augustin chuckles weakly. “I wish you would eat some corpses. Or some rats. Or both. Would help me out a lot. Those bastards don’t bite shallow.”

Silence. Augustin has no audience. He holds a cut of rancid meat in his hand, and with all of his dwindling bravery, chucks it inside through the window, hanging on by its hinge. Hears it thud and then roll across the floor. He feels like he’s torn out his own heart and left it at the mercy of the beast.

Finally— God, finally— as relieving as when he found Henri in the depths of that crater, the beast scuffles, and then a grotesque imitation of digestion ensues. Tongue smacking, wet, grunting, hot breath wracking his body, and then a hard swallow. A heavy exhale.

Augustin draws his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them. “Are you cold?” He asks. “I could bring you a blanket. Are you thirsty? I could bring you some water. Some real water. Not that hell-broth in the spring.”

This is better, almost. Speaking as if the beast can hear him, and as if the beast is, in fact, Henri. Better for him to imagine things are calmer than they really are.

“If the meat is not enough, I’ll bring you a corpse. I’ll stuff it through the window for you. You liked brisket, didn’t you? I’ll manage you a brisket. Won’t be very nutritious, but…”

But what? What loyalty has Augustin to this monster, who slaughtered his unit? Then again, what dials or instruments can measure loyalty? What can weigh a heart?

“You can be close to them again,” Augustin says. “Eat your fallen victims, make them part of you. Isn’t that a fulfilling sentiment? Slice you open, fill you with soil. Give them a chance to make something better of themselves.”

Augustin weeps until he falls asleep. He feels as though the beast does, too. This all feels like they’re living out a metaphor. Men like them do not become angels. Men like them kill and kill and kill and it never gets easier.

Perhaps they were always beasts.

───

Plenty of animals would wander onto the battlefield, in dire search of better lands. Deer, rabbits. If they could, they’d catch them and then would have a marvelous dinner. If not, they’d be caught in the crossfire and die unceremoniously.

Sometimes stray dogs from the enemy K-9 unit would lose their masters, rendered untamable, and stumble into French trenches. But never, as a bottom line, would anything feline appear. That’s why the soldiers were so taken aback when they heard faint mewling coming from above the bunker, loud enough to wake a few of them. These walls were not thick.

“Lambert,” Henri grumbles tiredly, nearly rolling right off his bunk. “‘S tha’ you?”

“What the fuck?” Augustin murmurs, brows knitting. “Why would that be me?”

“Mm,” he mumbles noncommittally, and waves him away. “You hear that?”

They round up a few of their countrymen— Noyer, Toussaint, Cazal— to investigate, and they all shuffle out of the bunker, rifles in hand. The culprit of the disturbance is small enough to fit in your hands and gray with thick fur, knelt against the ground. The soldiers laugh among themselves. When the cat meows at them, they share chuckles and meow back in unison.

An ensuing song of call and response is enough to temporarily raise their spirits. All crouched down, repeating every noise the animal made. They all laugh at Toussaint, whose impression is especially accurate.

Henri looks at Augustin, a newfound light in his eyes. “Seems there’s hope yet,” he says, and Augustin feels rejuvenated.

───

Augustin might not know Henri’s birthplace or his mother’s name, but he knows his favorite food.

The officers— viz. Joubert— granted them a special opportunity: on a board in the mess hall was a tally. Good behavior would rack them up points, which could be spent on more novelty rations. It was small, but it served as something to work towards besides just surviving long enough to see the sunrise. Since Henri was the main contributor to this count, he often had the largest say in what they’d get.

Always, he decided on frozen fruit.

Raspberries, plums, mangoes, strawberries, cherries. He didn’t even wait for them to thaw, just dealt with the chill and the ache in his teeth. They were cheap on account of not being fresh, so he was the only one to indulge in them, while others requested tobacco or different grades of wine.

Every time, without fail, he’d share with Augustin. And Augustin does not like fruit, but he ate them anyway.

They’d sit on either Henri’s bunk or Augustin’s, chipped ceramic bowl in between them, usually with a tarp laid over the top bunk like children at a sleepover. Henri had a way of making something ridiculous out of a serious situation. They’d trade stories of war and fantasy, of family back home. How good things would be when this all ended. How much Henri would love Augustin’s wife, his son. How dearly Henri misses the bustling streets of Paris.

Henri’s favorite fruit was cherries. Augustin always saved them for him. If Henri fell asleep before he could finish them, Augustin would sneak all the way back to the pantry and re-freeze them, and then sneak all the way back, often dutifully accepting reprimands from the officers.

He preferred to be caught by Joubert. In a way, Joubert understood, even if Augustin didn’t, the confession Augustin would not dare to utter.

He walks through the soldiers’ quarters, not bothering to burn the corpses, shooting the lock off the door to the utility room. When Joubert finishes reading off the arsenal code, Augustin slams the radio against a wall. So easily, not unlike this machine, can trust be shattered. So easily can an enemy be made out of a friend.

He walks through the barracks, and they’re thick with the scent of cherries.

───

The garrison as a unit was prone to nightmares, it came with the war in a specialty package. Glossed over eyes, palpitating hearts. They all chose to ignore it, or weep in dark corners. When Augustin was victim to these terrors, the paralyzing, petrifying terror he’d feel when facing the reality of the lives he’d taken, he’d find Henri crawling into his bunk, lighting a cigarette as he stretches out and Augustin scoots away to accommodate him. Curled up into a ball, he’s silent. Internally, he can’t hear himself think.

“Hey, remember what you told me?” Henri whispers, voice so low, only audible to Augustin’s ears.

“I’ve told you a lot of things,” he replies with a grunt, “and I remember few of them.”

“Have you now?” Henri’s tone is heavy with fondness. “About that bakery in Marseille, the one you hold in such high esteem. Always so costly, right?”

He awaits a response. Augustin nods. The only distinct sound is his hair rubbing against his bare pillow.

“Right. Well, I heard from the grapevine that they’re going to compensate many of the French soldiers after this, on account of the shell-shock. Me and you, we’re going to go there.”

The statement is a matter of fact. No room for negotiation, for anything to stand in the way. Augustin’s brows furrow in that involuntary telltale manner, his lips pull themselves thin, face reddening and he’s grateful that tears make no sound. “Yeah?” He says shakily.

“Absolutely. You’re going to introduce me to the menu and we’ll make ourselves sick from coffee and bread and pastries.”

“…Okay,” Augustin breathes after a lapse in thought. “That sounds good.”

“Doesn’t it? So I need you to be strong, okay? We’ll be out of here. You’ll be with your wife and son, and we’ll go to that bakery, alright?”

Augustin hums in affirmation, and just as Henri makes to leave, he sits upright and seizes his friend by the wrist. Henri looks over his shoulder.

“Can you stay here?” He asks. “It’s— well—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, you fool,” Henri snickers, and crawls back into their bunk. Wraps his arms around Augustin’s midsection, and buries his head into his shoulder. “Sleep well.”

For a long time thereafter, the terrors were quelled. Curled up outside of administration, Augustin clutches the remnants of a tattered uniform to his chest. The numbers 33 are embroidered onto the collar.

───

The metal keypad is pristine from lack of use. Henri never did touch his locker, only to stow or retrieve bullets or to stash away letters and photos. It’s cool against Augustin’s sweating flesh, and he leans against the door for a moment to gather himself.

He remembers the day the photo was taken, the one pinned to the back wall of the locker, half hidden away as if shameful. It was before they boarded the train to Ypres, en route to the Western Front. A fellow conscript had taken the photo. A soldier whose name Augustin cannot recall, who would not be documented in any record or index.

Augustin does not want to, but he stains the ink with tears. If he places his thumb right over Henri’s face, he can pretend that he never existed, that he is alone in his Hell, that he mourns nothing, for he will be with his family soon. But a piece of his soul has been stolen from him, right from the center and he rots from the inside out. Maggots infest his organs and tear away at the tissue.

He tucks the photo into his collar. He cannot go back. He can never go back.

───

He gags at the enucleated eyes on the table, who appear to stare at him as if still attached to a socket. Notes and photos and overwhelming words and thoughts are strewn about, but there is a lantern, and he is grateful for the lantern, and he must be grateful even when he doesn’t want to be.

Ridiculous. This place was always such a point of interest to Noyer and Toussaint, whereas Augustin and the rest of the brutes viewed it only as a vessel for ambush. Those two viewed it for what it was; a scrap of history, a gleaming light.

This is what Augustin gets, what he deserves, the weight of all of man’s original sin heavy against his back. Wage shitty wars, win shitty prizes. If he scrubbed hard enough, could he be pure again? Could his family look less like shells to him and more like people?

The eerie blue glow displaces him as he begins his descent into the tunnels, and the sights that would have baffled him several days ago are now unsurprising. He has seen worse. He has seen man have their humanity revoked as if it were a privilege and stared into the hollow chassis that resulted. He has looked death in the eyes, and whatever lay beyond death which would make a sane man go mad.

Death is the least of it. Death, and petty wars.

Pebbles suspended in the air and a language Augustin knows not to be Latin. He hears chanting in his mind, distant, like from the other side of a locked door. He hears the wind, and through a square barred window, he sees the detonator handle.

Has he served his compatriots well?

───

He recognizes that voice.

It’s worn and scratchy and cuts out at times from overuse. Otherwise, it’s deep, booming. A time ago, it was not so. It’s a whirlwind of emotions as it sings the poem that had been recited to Augustin many a moon ago, and he had found it insightful, found it clever. Now it is like a death rattle, the horn that sounds before Ragnarok.

His heart beats in his throat. Monsters are frightening. Horrifying is the man who is not a monster, but is driven mad by information he was not meant to have access to.

Augustin jumps at the sudden firing of a shotgun as the bullet is buried in the tender flesh of a rat-beast. He’s sandwiched between a stack of boxes and an explosive barrel. He wouldn’t have to be hit directly to be eviscerated.

He cannot kill him. Even if he has to, he cannot. It would be better to die here. His wife is beautiful, she can marry again and provide the boy with a father. The beast who is not Henri could starve and die like God intended. He cannot kill Beaufoy.

Instinct trumps thought. A clean shot to the head renders this room eternally silent and Augustin is stumbling through the broken door, shoving the handle into his pocket bag, and clearing away the rubble from a tunnel— is this his freedom? Is this his solstice?

He emerges from the tunnel. He feels he wants to vomit, and vomit he does.

───

“What is to be done about this, my friend?” Augustin laughs, his voice raspy. “We are at a stalemate, no? I could leave here so easily. The detonator is hooked up to the dynamite. There is nothing left for me. I could leave now, right now.”

No response. “Do you think I would be believed? Do you think they’d think me a murderer? Would I be executed?”

A light stirring of indignation, but nothing more. “Would my wife have me? I could write a note. Would—”

He buries his head in his hands, covered in filth and soiled bandages.

“Henri. Oh, Henri. You know what it is I truly want.”

A click sounds from behind him. His heart stills, replaced with a revolving vortex of dread and terror. With his weight pressed against the door, it would not open lest the beast come plowing through. He does not, and Augustin is frozen.

Trembling, he stands. At death’s limen, faced with the wicked possibilities of a foregone world. Would he shy in fear? Would he face the reality of Henri’s eternity without a shred of empathy?

He pushes the door open. It’s dark, but not dark enough. An undefined mass of shadow lies in the furthest corner. Like an animal exposes its stomach, Augustin shuts the door behind him.

───

There is a word Augustin knows. He cannot say it, cannot think it, but he knows that Henri knows it too.

“For you.” Henri extends his hand and caged within his fingers is a stuffed toy rabbit.

Augustin snorts. “For me? Wow, I’ve always wanted this, you shouldn’t have, so on and so forth.” He waves his hand.

Augustin is always trying to draw a laugh out of his friend, and it always works, and it always warms Augustin when he’s cold. “I thought he looked like you. With the blue coat, and all. For your son, perhaps, because he thinks he’s so fast.”

Augustin accepts it and turns it over in his hand. It may be the cleanest thing he’s ever received during his time at war. His son does look like him. Round and rosy and sweet. Augustin promised to bring him something back.

It fell from his pocket in the crater when he slung Henri over his shoulder, and when he retrieved it from the crater after he emerged from the tunnels, he was filled with a profound sense of dread.

───

Cowardice prevails. Augustin screws his eyes shut as he lights the hanging lamp. Deep, dissatisfied grumbling echoes about the room, flesh chafing uncomfortably against flesh, a gnarled mess of limbs. Distantly, the all too familiar twang of a tripwire being triggered echoes through the halls, followed by an uproar of flame. Augustin feels as though the world is crumbling around him.

A confession is punched out of him. “I dream of death, you know.”

He feels the beast slither across the floor before its breath is upon his face, acrid and hot like gas.

Augustin takes a deep breath. “I dream… I dream that in my sleep, I’ll be granted mercy. That we will all die here. Me, you, and… and that thing in the tunnels. Already a third of the way there, right?”

Augustin forgets that the beast cannot understand him. That it knows only to stalk, hunt, kill. Perhaps it is not his fault. Perhaps he is only acting on instinct. Perhaps he knows no better.

Whenever has that been a sufficient justification?

The beast draws up what Augustin can only assume to be a claw, and wipes away a spot of blood on his cheek. Gently, cautiously. An unprecedented tenderness— what changed in the last few days? Was the beast, trapped in his prison, forced to listen? To understand? Did he hear the trumpets, too?

They’re loud. Deafening.

“Isn’t that funny?” Augustin laughs as if the beast had told a joke. “Isn’t that funny? All this work, all I have to live for, and selfishly I deny it.”

Augustin’s arms are glued to his side, posture uncomfortably straight. “Haven’t I always been selfish?” He reaches up to grab the claw before it can be pulled away. The sharp edges dig into his skin and draw more blood, slicing through the bandages. “Henri? Haven’t I?”

───

“Ah!” Henri exclaims. “Seems I’m fortune’s fool.”

He pushes out his chair and stands, collecting his rifle leaned against the wall. He throws his cards against the table in defeat. “Guess I’m on patrol, then. C’est la vie.”

He shrugs on his coat, and with a salute, he departs, and Augustin sleeps comfortably in his bunk after a round of drinks with his comrades. A lantern flickering dimly beside him. He never did like the dark.

───

A fuel canister clambers at his feet, the beast looming above him. He dares not look at his face. His teeth, his claws, are already too much. He hesitantly retrieves it; it’s heavy, filled to the brim.

“More fuel,” he observes. “You hate the light.”

The beast grunts in acknowledgment and saunters away, shoving his body into a tunnel, and scurrying away through the ceiling above. Why he didn’t take that route before, Augustin doesn’t know. It makes him wonder if he was ever trapped. If he was ever safe.

Augustin breathes a sigh of relief when he empties the canister into the nozzle and the lights come alive. Distantly, the beast groans.

He thinks about his visit at the Louvre with his family. He was particularly drawn to the exhibition dedicated to a rendition of a feudalist Japanese setting, shrines and cuisine and all different types of architecture and traditions. The samurai had a ritualistic execution called seppuku, where one would be disemboweled and then decapitated.

Augustin sits in the chair at the desk across the generator. He has already decided. He decided a long, long time ago.

───

The engineers who built the bunker knew what they were risking when they installed the daisy-chained lights. Henri kneels inside the utility room, undershirt discarded in favor of his coat, gloved hands working at the wires.

“So he fancies himself a handyman,” Joubert remarks, leaning against the wall, overseeing his work. A cigarette between his knuckles. “Aren’t we a talented bunch?”

Augustin snorts. “I wouldn’t call being able to piss completely silently a talent, Joubert.”

“Then you don’t understand talent, my friend. Here, go stand beside him,” he says and pulls out his camera. “A memory, for the monoliths soon to be erected in our honor.”

The photos of Augustin and Henri surmount quickly. Henri’s hand grasping his shoulder, a fond smile on his face. Best friends forever scribbled on the back in red ink, and blood staining the front.

───

The beast sleeps. In the chapel, folded next to the altar. Bodies strung up in prayer to a false Goddess of blood, a Goddess Henri was forced to worship. Augustin cannot ignore reality any longer. His friend, his dear friend. Who could do this to him?

He feels indignity boil his blood. No matter. He must act quickly.

He kneels beside the beast. Large, mangled. There is a beauty about him, if not just by association with who he was before. He was once human, and some part of him is human yet.

There is a darkness in his eyes, one so unlike Henri’s, but a reluctant one. He is only acting on inclination, which is all he knows. Augustin cannot blame him. He hopes that Henri will not blame him, either. He hopes that Joubert will tell his family lies about what came of him, that he died in honor. He hopes they will find the note he left.

Toussaint’s limp, cold body is propped up in a chair outside the infirmary. They will find him first. He carved Boisrond’s name into the wall behind his final resting place. They will find him second, and third, the prisoner who starved to death. He’s left all the doors unlocked and all traps disarmed, returned dog tags to their owners. This empress of darkness and blood will not have her execution, will not have her honor. That belongs to the soldiers, who are people before they are mercenaries.

He cradles the beast’s sleeping face, too large for his hand. He is not truly such a beast. Batesian mimicry, he thinks, how clever. He could have held Henri like this if he had more time. They could have gone to the bakery together.

German shells rain outside. He grabs the beast’s paw and it stirs, before falling still. It’s tired. They’re both tired.

One claw is longer than his entire forearm. He’s removed his coat and draped it over his friend so that he may be warm in the drafty chapel. He grips the appendage by the base. All the Gods, all the Heavens, all the Hells are within him.

His honor. His.

He plunges the claw into his stomach. Immediately, he retches as his organs are pierced. He splutters blood onto the floor, and blood seeps into his undershirt, and blood spills onto his hands, onto the beast’s one natural weapon. Perhaps Augustin was never at the advantage. The job isn’t finished. He grips the claw tighter and it tears himself open in a diagonal slide, from top to bottom, stomach acid coming loose and burning his lap. An unholy tincture of blood and other bodily fluids.

Traditionally, a shorter blade was used. He frowns, his muscles growing weak already. Henri valued tradition. He never would have had him, and Augustin was foolish to entertain thoughts opposing that.

He sees nothing, hears nothing except for panicked noises from the beast as the Earth tremors and shakes him into wakefulness, wrapping Augustin’s coat around the wound, but it does nothing, nothing, and he’s too big and awkward and Augustin was a dead man walking the second he entered the chapel.

The beast clutches him close to his chest, squeezing him, snapping his bones, releasing a mournful wail.

Augustin’s eyes drift close. It’s all he’s ever wanted. All he’s ever wanted.

───

I write this not as a resignation and not as a suicide letter, but rather as a victim impact statement, and more, a cautionary tale.

Several weeks ago, excavation began in this very bunker of a network of tunnels presumed to be of Roman origin: I tell you this now and I will tell you this once, and I urge you to listen to me, lest you meet my fate, lest we cross paths in the eternal void and I rip you apart. They are not Roman. They are something greater, more meaningful than any organized religion you could ever hope to erect. They are something I do not understand, and nor will you.

Following this, an estimated six men were involved in a mutiny to end the onslaught of nightmares and hallucinations caused by the tunnels. The mutineers were abandoned in pits and left to starve. This description is a blasphemy. We were betrayed and fed to the wolves, the lot of us.

I cannot trace the events back to an exact date or a catalyst which set this off, but at one point a beast did emerge from the fray to pick us off and offer our cadavers to its God of sadism and blood. This beast, once, was a man named Henri Clément, who lived in Paris, and was better than us all.

In the league of soldiers you will find Toussaint Beaufoy in the infirmary, driven mad for not heeding the warning they were too ignorant to give in the first place. Boisrond’s final resting place is in the pantry. A German prisoner is dead in the prison ward.

I offer you no consolation, nor forgiveness. But I offer you this— remove any salvageable corpses and return them to their families. I am in the chapel with the beast. I have rigged both the chapel and the surrounding area starting from the arsenal. You, with all of your men, could not get through, and even if you managed, this beast would kill you too. Tell my family what you will and pass all my earthly belongings unto my son.

There is nothing for you here. None of us will be remembered. When you’ve removed the corpses, blow this amended circle of Hell to bits.

— A. Lam

#if this flops I’m gonna die #amnesia game #amnesia the bunker #henri clement #augustin lambert #annewrites

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jiminrings · 3 years

Note

what if....just WHaT iF senior y/n started to prepare lunch boxes again?? and shy stem koo is all giddy and happy to see them placed on his desk (gahhh idk if that’s a good idea or if it makes sense at all) as always, thank u so much for writing for us!!

omg ok... can we see when y/n starts to leave “his” lunchboxes again??? 😄

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo loses in a competition but he wins at the end of the day (kind of)

the universe is out to get jungkook

there's a hit list and he is the only person that comprises the entirety of it

the world is his oyster and it offers him nothing but Ls

he has a guardian angel but the only thing it guarantees is his downfall!!!!

“in 5th place, we have jeon jungkook!”

holy fUCK does he hate any ordinal rank that isn’t the first when it’s next to his name

god his face is being shown in the digital monitor and his eyes are quivering behind his glasses

maybe it’s just him but perhaps everyone in the auditorium could see how fRUSTRATED he is

his pupils keep dancing and he has a curt smile on and it’s physically a pain for him to go up the stage and claim his flimsy little piece of paper

jungkook clearly did not expect to go up on stage this early in time and certainly did not expect to be in fifth place ://

second is beyond embarrassing, third’s actually not that bad, fourth is an odd rank and always unnoticed, but fifth however is just plain-out gAG

the rank makes him shudder as if getting a consolation 2nd rank isn’t bad enough and they STILL decided to have the awards go up to fifth place

“in 4th place, park jimin– come right up!”

://

... naur

hold on a second

there is nO fucking way

don’t get him wrong!!! jimin is one of his closest friends but holy fuck this has gOT to be a punch in gut for jungkook

if he has to be very critical in an academic standpoint,,,

as in annoyingly critical

jimin’s more of a so-so alright :// he just randomly decided to shift to stem because he was getting bored of business!!! IT WAS NEVER HIS FIRST OPTION

he isn’t in much stem clubs like jungkook, doesn’t study as much as he does, always rests and goes out on weekends and takes breaks in between studying, not spending every moment trying to improve himself unlike him.....

u-uh which is normal

bUT JUNGKOOK FEELS LIKE JIMIN ISN’T ON HIS LEVEL

AND NEITHER SHOULD HE BE HIGHER

god does that sound problematic

the fact that jimin is surprised too helps ease the guilt that kook experiences tho

“really? shit, i just guessed half of the answers to the questionnaire LMAOOOOOOO”

...

.....

that’s it.

the world is out to get jungkook

he doesn’t necessarily take his anger out on people because he represses it all but he’s noticeably dull the whole day

and the day after that of course because he pours effort into everything!! and that includes sulking

“you’re worrying about that brat again,” yoongi says through his chewing, savoring every bit of the fish and chips you’ve made him, “the same brat who looked like he was gonna deck me, his senior, on the spot for eating from his lunchbox — which i’m also doing now!!”

he still isn’t over it alright

tbh yoongi kinda admires the kid because he’s smart and all that

and you also like him and he can kinda see why

BUT NOOOOO HE JUST HAD TO DO THAT ://

“i don’t care for him,” you scoff through the same chips you made yourself, wiping the residual oil on yoongi’s denim pants, “i’m just curious.”

“you don’t know?”

sheesh when did yoongi DO all the knowing

“he lost in this stem competition; something like that. anyways, it was our school’s turn to host it and he was one of our two representatives and yeah.... he’s fifth place.”

“he is????”

yoongi nods at your barely-concealed shock, “jimin ranked fourth.”

didn’t you just do a drinking tequila until you have a completely normal resting face competition last nIGHT?!???

you feel sorry for jungkook :((

so much sorry and awed at the same time that you’d sell a lung to see him break into a smile from a corny ifunny.co science joke atleast once

“i have two rest periods in a row, right?” you ask yoongs while you try to gather your things to put them back in your backpack as calmly as possible, eyes not breaking character

“why do you assume that i’d know your schedule?” he grimaces at the concept of being thoughtful to his closest friend, “you have three rest periods in a row.”

“good. i’m just gonna get something back from the dorm.”

that something just had to be a fresh batch of newly-made fish and chips, tucked neatly into his electric lunchbox

jungkook’s about to call it a day because the three-hour lecture he used to find engaging is strenous, about to exit the room with his shoulders sagged when-

isn’t that his lunchbox?

it’s laid on the mini desk next to the exit, the all-too-familiar sticky note with the doodle and his name being stuck on — something he’s dearly missed

you did a good job, jungkook :)

jungkook feels dizzy to hold the lunchbox back in his hands, opening up to see if it tRULY is the deal and it’s with giddiness that he finds that his meal’s still warm

yeah

it’s okay

it’s more than okay

jungkook won this time :)

#SEND REQUESTS PLS the next part is where shit goes down and the other request i have is something v cute :D #PLS I NEED THE IN-BETWEENS!!!! GO CRAZY BESTIES #stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook drabbles #jungkook x reader

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angelofthebau · 3 years

Text

The Boat Fic [for lack of a better title]

Aaron Hotchner x GN BAU Reader

Requested by @avengersbau and angel anon for Marley’s 1.2k Celebration: 💙 A smut one shot with a character of your choice, with a prompt randomly picked by a wheel spinner

Prompt selected: You’re stuck on a boat. That’s it... Contents: smut [nsfw], some minor panic, throwing up smut - giving oral, moan kink, penetration. Description: Seasickness and a stranded boat makes for an interesting afternoon. Marley’s Celebration Masterlists

It was one of those ideas that seemed sweet in theory. Coasting a huge lake on a boat, only the sound of the engine loud enough to drown out the sound of birds chirping merrily in the lazy afternoon sun. With him. It could have been so perfect, it could have been your moment. But no. You had no idea that you were seasick until a few mere minutes after being on the water, suddenly running to the cabin to empty your stomach contents, the unnatural tilt of the boat under your feet making your head spin. “I didn’t know you were sea-sick,” Hotch said softly as you opened the bathroom door, groaning. “Neither did I,” “I’ll get us to the other side of the lake as quickly as I can,” He mumbled. For a second, he stared at you, causing pricks of heat to flush down your neck under his gaze. “I still don’t know why you took the boat instead of driving around the lake like Morgan,” You huffed, trying to initiate some kind of communication to stop his stare, albeit the words came out choked. “I just thought you needed a few minutes of peace after that case,” Your mouth twitched into a soft smile as you saw Hotch duck his head almost sheepishly. “I guess I made it worse,” He apologized. Before you could say anything else, he was gone, striding purposefully out of the cabin. You took a few deep breaths, wiping the sweat beads from your forehead as you turned back into the bathroom. The cold water felt miraculous on your face as you washed it, trying to rid the sweat and heat in your cheeks. You managed to fish out some mints from your bag, chewing on one quickly, desperately wanting to pull yourself together. After a very quiet pep-talk to yourself, you left the bathroom, only to be met by an even-more sheepish looking Aaron Hotchner. He was fiddling with the watch on his wrist as he flickered his vision from the floor of the cabin to your eyes. “Out with it, Hotchner,” You joked, but he made a weird facial expression, almost cringing as he finally managed to latch his gaze onto you for longer than a few seconds. “We’re stuck here for a couple of hours,” “What?” “Engine malfunction. I called Morgan and he said there isn’t anyone to help us for another couple of hours,” Hotch decided to leave out the part where Rossi had grabbed the phone from Morgan and yelled ‘Attaboy, here’s your chance,” before abruptly hanging up. Letting out a string of curses, you took a deep breath and made your way over to the bed in the cabin, flinging yourself down. You flinched at the sudden movement causing your stomach to feel like it was bubbling again, trying to lie as still as possible. You closed your eyes for a few minutes, trying to ignore the waves of nausea that surfaced every time you felt the boat move slightly underneath you. You were so focused on breathing through the discomfort that you almost missed the feeling of weight at the bottom of the bed. A large hand rubbed your stomach gently, the touch almost a ghost. Your eyes shot open and met his. His hand almost sprang back away from you. For a minute, Hotch seemed caught in headlights. He never acted like this, not around anyone. He was impenetrable, head strong and stern - now he was almost shy and bashful. You didn’t say anything, but found some confidence and grabbed his hand, pulling it back onto your stomach. His face softened at the gesture and he continued rubbing, his other hand mindlessly trailing small, dizzying circles on your knee. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” He sighed, and you shook your head, offering him a watery smile. You closed your eyes with a soft hum. “I can feel you staring at me,” You chuckled, flickering your eyes back open. “I just feel bad,” “Well, stop,” You grinned, lifting your hand to poke him gently in his cheek. You had no idea why, and truthfully, he didn’t know either, but his face turned at the feeling of your skin on his, and he planted a small kiss on the side of your finger. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by either of you as you both paused, staring at each other in a way that you never had, a war raging in your eyes against each other, buried in confusion and curiosity. You never thought it’d have been you who made the first move, but that’s how it happened with your hand slowly grazed down from his cheek to the collar of his shirt, fisting the material so tightly that he was propelled forward, straight on top of you, with his mouth already knowing it’s destination. Neither of you spared a second to think about what was happening. You were too wrapped up in each other. His mouth was hot and slick, with his tongue teasingly gliding across yours. The heat was almost unbearable until his hands found your shirt, slowly unbuttoning it, never breaking the deepening kiss. “Please,” You mumbled against his mouth as you broke away for a few second of air. The sight of him on top of you, lips wet and slightly swollen, his face red and blown out was enough to emit a low moan from deep in your throat. Your clothes were gradually stripped away, leaving you in your underwear as he sat back onto his knees, unbuttoning his own shirt. Since when was constant eye-contact this attractive? Your desperation grew, partly from pure lust and partly from the fact that he was a perfect distraction from the sickness you felt. With a smile, your eyes dragged across his physique as he undressed himself. He seemed to hesitate as he cast a glance down to his boxers. “I want this,” You assured him. His eyes darkened almost instantly as he gripped the waistband of your underwear, pulling it down and ridding you of all clothing. “You’re already dripping,” He whispered, almost in awe, as he began planting kisses along your entire body, causing your body to twitch and shudder in need and awarding him with ungraceful moans and whines. You felt like you were becoming erratic, your hands moving at their own accord and scratching at his waist. That last piece of clothing had to go. “I didn’t think you were so impatient, Y/N,” Hotch mumbled to himself, finally ridding himself of his boxers. He paused for a minute, almost as if he was still trying to figure out if this was actually happening, but he soon snapped out of it once your mouth hurriedly wrapped around him, your tongue running hot streaks. You reveled in the taste of him as he hit the back of your throat, a low grumble emitting from his chest and setting your blood on fire. Within warning, he pulled you away from him by your hair, pushing you onto your back on the cabin bed. “I really want to hear you. I want the birds to stop chirping because they can hear you. I want the world to go silent out there from the sound of you,” He commanded, the words cutting you as you let out a gasp of hot air, hurriedly nodding your head. His fingers inched towards your hole and you were almost screeching already, desperately aching for more contact. You managed to motion towards your bag, lazily slung on the floor next to the bathroom door. He followed your line of sight, quickly grabbing your bag and handing it to you. You fished into the small zipped pocket inside, proudly displaying a bottle of lube. “You keep lube in your bag?” He spluttered into laughter as you grinned, your words were gone - the only thing you could hear or say was his name as he began opening the bottle. You pulled the bottle from his hands and covered your hands with it until they were flooded. The groan he made when your hands then began massaging him could have made you cum right there and then, but you wanted him. You needed to know how he felt inside you. He flipped you over and lined himself up, the lube threatening to drip from him at any moment. Slowly, he pushed himself inside of you, as gently as he could, your voice giving out a long moan at the feeling. His hands were placed on your waist, tightening their grip as he heard the sound of you. He waited until you were adjusted to him before picking up a rhythm that grew faster and faster, to the point where the cabin was overloaded with the sound of slapping and pleasured screaming. He whispered things as he fucked, things you couldn’t even remember seconds after he said them, but they brought you closer and closer to the edge of white. He seemed to be approaching too, his rhythm becoming a disarray of sloppy and hard thrusts as your name joined in the chorus, smokey and strained. With a final scream, you came, your arms giving out as you face planted the bed, him flopping on top of you as he twitched, still buried deep inside of you, his voice giving you sweet whispers of praise in between panting. The euphoria lingered for a long while after, even when he managed to catch his breath and clean you both up, before nervously crawling into bed next to you, continuing to rub your stomach as if he hadn’t just made you feel like you saw God in heaven.

------

angel list: @avengersbau @babymango-writes @mortallythoughtfulgurl @arganfics @rachelxwayne @ellvswriting @pumpkin-stars @xessx @fuxking-insxne @ptrs-prkrs @passionatelyacademic @averyhotchner @mrshadeelgibson @rousethemouse @whoreforhotch @baumarvel @iconicc

#ok this may be terrible i'm sorry #the idea of sex is blegh right now lol i love hormones #anyway #marley hits 1.2k #marl's party #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine

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angryinternetduck · 4 years

Text

Masterlist

harry styles x reader:

Bet On It - 5.9k You and Harry are friends; you’re betting he wants more. It takes a few joking confessions of love, a no-show date, a yellow flower, and charming forms of communication to determine a winner.

a ghost of a chance - 600 You just don’t have a ghost of a chance with Harry Styles.

oh to stay - 4.9k a friends with benefits situation featuring rules, tennis balls, and crumby bread puns.

Lucky - 6.7k 🎃 The house is haunted, the cat is lucky, and the neighbor is not, in fact, a ghost. A halloween fic published in August! Cocoa - 4.5k 🎄 A Christmas party at James Corden’s house turns into a hot chocolate excursion with Harry Styles. You’re supposed to call, he’s supposed to text, you look cute and in love... And according to Harry, you’ve got a nice voice. Harry Styles x famous!reader; a Christmas fic published in August <3

sleepover - 1.5k Pure fluff. You and Harry have a sleepover, he does a gecko impression, and wow, he sure does love you a lot. yellow & blue - 2.7k Pure angst. Harry reminiscing, regretting, despairing you and his relationship with you at the 2020 Brits.

a mutual feeling - 9.5k You’re antsy, Harry’s not your friend, and the answer - is yes. Harry doesn’t do relationships but he does do sex. a boxerry au of sorts where Harry’s dad is your trainer but you’re a better fighter.

When All Feels Lost - 30k Three chapters of you, a struggling actress, and Harry Styles, a has-been producer, trying to find a play just terrible enough to be perfect.

Pickpocket - 1.5k Stolen rings, a far away Harry, and lots of ice cream. You moonlight as a pickpocket, and Harry’s proper entertaining.

‘twas the night before tour - 925 Quiet dinners, sweet singing, and clumsy dancing. When he comes back, he’ll bring you a wedding ring.

goodnight n go - 5k Harry’s gotta go. He’s always gotta go, always just about to miss his train, and your apartment feels emptiest right after Harry leaves. Your heating’s down, Harry can’t cook, and it’s disorienting to wake up in Harry’s arms. A game of Go Fish and some not-so-cool moments later, and, well, Harry’s goodnight n go is pretty much out the window. Based off Ariana Grande’s goodnight n go!

Key - 4.3k Harry’s a cute barista, he wore some atrocious neon green crocs, and his sole purpose in life is flattering you. You’ve got to quarantine, so you consider buying a monkey and painting the cafe. Two proposals and several cookie deliveries later, and still nobody knows what’s happening with quarantine. But you and Harry will figure it out together. Written for the Quarantine Challenge!

Questions - 855 He’s missing out on all the fun, you’re less subtle than you think you are, and Harry stole a telescope. Plus a shooting star. For the amazing Fic Slam!

A Clean Break - 1.9k You said you wouldn’t cry, and he said it would be a clean break, but the “want” is present tense. Harry’s got a dog named Noodle. Noodle - 2.2k The before and after of A Clean Break. Harry gets a dog, eats some ramen, and then takes a detour on his way to a double date.

Sweet Creature - 1.2k It starts with a few notes, and ends in a kiss, and Harry’s written a new song.

I Guess So - ~400 You want to drive, but it’s just so hard to argue with Harry Styles.

Sunshine - 4.6k Harry calls you Sunshine and you light up his world like nobody else. Only problem is that you’re both involved with other people. Then, suddenly, you’re not, and he’s not either, and Harry still compares you to a star.

Cheers - a little under 1.5k A college au kinda thing where you’re a bit tipsy, very rambly, and not a fan of the Christmas in July party you’re at. Written for the 20k fic celebration!

Like a Fool - just under 2k A college au of a reader insert featuring a coffee discussion, some rom coms, and a bad Grease reference. Also, there’s a party, and there’s a kiss, and there’s just a bit of heartbreak. ...In Love - 2.5k A little while later, and there’s a double date. Harry has a thing against pencil tapping, and this wasn’t his plan at all. One more double date, and a little switcheroo, and you’re a fool in love. [part two of Like a Fool]

Meant to Be - 1.5k It’s cheesy, but true: you and Harry were meant to be. You just hope your first fight won’t ruin everything. Written for the Boyfriendathon!

fireworks - 2.5k A reader insert featuring lots of fireworks, a lack of wine, and a New Year’s Eve party. Harry doesn’t like fireworks, but he gets them anyway. He should dye his hair pink. Some failed dates, a birthday surprise, a summer wedding.

Ice Cream - 1.5k Maybe you work at an ice cream shop. Maybe Harry Styles comes in one night, pissed off his face, and maybe he throws up all over you and figures he’s got to take you out to dinner to make up for it.

Brit Awards 2014 - 415 words He was having a wee. The toilets were ages away. Really.

harry styles x original female characters:

Kiwi - 2.3k

She’s crazy, she has a cactus, and she smells like caramel; Harry Styles is into it and gets a song out of it.

Carolina - 2.7k She’s got a family in Carolina, and she’s at a bar, and Harry Styles sees her, and they click, and then she’s gone, and Harry writes a song.

Canyon Moon - 3.2k She’s got a yellow guitar, and a rabbit named Rabbit, and Harry Styles keeps thinking back to that time under the canyon moon.

Only Angel - 2.3k She loves old rom coms, and she used to play piano, and she’s got Harry Styles wrapped around her little finger. She’s pandemonium, and there’s nothing she can do about it. Meet Me in the Hallway - 1.8k She’s still pandemonium, but she’s breaking his heart. Over and over, but Harry can’t let her go, because she may be the pain, but she’s also the antidote. Arabella’s gotta get better, Harry needs his morphine, and purple is the color of royalty. [part two of Only Angel]

~ fic rec ~

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labyrinthof-fan-fiction · 3 years

Text

Fever {3}

Series Masterlist

A/N: So for my purposes, I’ve decided to age Jake up to 18. It works better for me, rather than the younger by two years. I am not a licensed therapist, so take that portrayal with a grain of salt. This is a Renèe slander account. I also hated the bikes, or at least her reasoning for the bikes, so I removed the bikes. So basically please just accept that this fic is 99.9% OOC.

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Abandonment, Therapy Session

Summary: Bella’s first therapy session, family dinner at the Black’s.

Rating: M

Word Count: 2,905

Monday came faster than I had expected. School was better, Jessica and I made plans to get through Calculus tomorrow after school, not without her making a welcome back from zombieland comment, which I couldn’t blame her for. Dad picked me up in the cruiser for the appointment with Dr. Gilbert. The drive to Port Angeles was a silent hour, I pondered what I was going to say to this therapist. Obviously, my ex-boyfriend was a vampire and I almost died due to an unhinged vampire hunting me and luring me into an old dance studio wasn’t the best opening line. I almost died on my eighteenth birthday due to a paper cut, maybe I should just stick away from the near death experiences. Mentioning vampires would probably award me a decent vacation and a straight jacket.

Dad checked me in at the office and we sat awkwardly in the waiting room. He picked up a fishing magazine and I picked at my nails. I was torn from contemplating my nail beds when the secretary called my name. I followed her into a room with a large couch, a woman sat in a chair across from it.

“Hello Bella, I’m Dr. Gilbert.” She was tall, her dark hair was tucked up into a bun. Black glasses were perched on her nose. She had a nice smile, kind, welcoming.

“Hi.” I mumbled as she gestured for me to sit on the couch.

“Tell me about yourself, Bella.” Dr. Gilbert stated, clipboard balanced on her lap, a pen in her hand.

“I don’t know, there’s not much to tell.” I murmured, crossing my legs under me on the couch. I pulled my sweater around my body, I was cold again. I probably could have started with my childhood, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you start therapy. Tell them all about your childhood, blame it on your mom…. Which, maybe wasn’t too far off.

She pursed her lips and nodded. “I see you’re a senior, what are your plans after you graduate this year?”

I nibbled on my bottom lip, “To be honest, I’m not sure. I had a plan, but that’s changed. I think maybe college, or a gap year to save. I think I want to go to college.”

She nodded and scribbled on her paper. “What do you think you’d like to do?”

I chuckled, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay to not have a plan, Bella.”

“I know, but everyone around me has a plan, colleges they’ve been accepted to. And I’m just…..” I gestured vaguely into the air.

Dr. Gilbert chuckled, “Sometimes those with the plans aren’t as put together as they seem. When I was your age, I was going to be a professional cellist. Got into Juliard and was ready. I got there, and realized that wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. I still play the cello, I’m a part of the local orchestra, but I’m not doing what I had planned. You have time. Tell me about your friends.”

I hesitated. “I have a few, we haven’t hung out as much, I…” I trailed off, not sure how to explain that I had been an emotionless blob for months and wasn’t sure where I stood with my friends.

She hummed, “They’ve been too busy?”

I chuckled, “They’ve been busy, I’ve been dealing with some stuff.”

“Care to elaborate?” She raised one of her sculpted eyebrows.

I sighed and pulled my knees to my chin and wrapped my arms around my legs. “My boyfriend broke up with me.”

“Tell me about him.” She stated.

“He would come through my window and watch me sleep.” I murmured. “He oiled the latch so it wouldn’t wake me. God, I thought it was romantic, he could have killed me. He could have done anything he wanted. And I would have let him. I let him control me.” The scratching of a pen on paper filled the moment I took a breath. “I thought that love meant he was allowed to control me, but that’s not love, is it?”

Dr. Gilbert looked at me. “I think you know the answer.” She paused, pursing her lips.

I nibbled on my bottom lip. “Why didn’t I know?”

She glanced at me. “He was your first boyfriend, right?” I nodded. “First loves are intense.” Her eyes wandered away from me. “You’re allowed to have strong feelings after something like this.”

“Is it normal to feel like you’re stuck in a void, just lost to the pain?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

Dr. Gilbert eyed me carefully. “There are several stages to grief, it sounds like you have begun the depression stage. But the stages aren’t always a linear progression, you can shift between them and go back and forth.” She was jotting things down on her paper. “How long have you felt lost to the pain?”

“A few months, five maybe?” I said quietly.

“That’s a long time to feel that way.” She glanced at her watch. “Do you feel that way now?”

I shook my head. “I feel like I just got out of the middle of it and I’ve started to come back to the real world.”

She nodded. “I want to you pay attention to what you do this week, if anything sets you back to this. That way we can find out what triggers this.” She sighed, “Unfortunately, that is time up, I’d like to see you next week at the same time, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that should work, I can check with my dad.” I said.

“It was nice to meet you, Bella.” She said, standing. I stood up and shook her outstretched hand.

“So how was it?” Dad asked as he started the cruiser.

“Good, I like her.” I answered, giving him a small smile. He glanced over to me, a curious look on his face, I tilted my head. “I think this is going to help.”

“Good.” He paused before pulling out of the parking lot. “Billy invited us over for dinner on Friday.”

My head snapped to him. “Billy?” The last time Billy Black had interacted with me, he had warned me away from Edward, hindsight, he was right. He had bribed Jacob to come to prom and warn me off the Cullens.

“Yeah, says he misses me.” Dad chuckled. “I think it’s a ploy to get me to go fishing again.”

I let out a small laugh. “Will Jacob be there?”

Dad raised his eyebrow. “Probably, why do you want to know?”

I shrugged, “Haven’t seen him since I bought the truck, thought he might be able to help with the radio.” That sentence did not sound as nonchalant as I had been hoping.

A twinkle was in Dad’s eye. “I think he could help with…your radio.”

I groaned and hid my head in my arms. “Dad…” I whined.

Dad let out a loud laugh, “Sorry.” He most definitely was not.

The next day at school was uneventful, that was until after school tutoring with Jessica. She flopped into the chair next to me, a scowl on her face.

“Hey, Jess.” I greeted.

“Hi, sorry. Fucking Mike.” She grumbled, apparently in my zombie state I had missed the constant on and off again relationship she and Mike had been navigating. According to Angela, I hadn’t missed much, all you could do was watch like a weekly soap opera. “So, let’s get to this.”

Jess was extremely patient, considering how many questions I asked, about concepts that we probably learned at the beginning of the year. By the time our hour was up, I felt like I could muddle through the homework, rather than just stare and hope the pages filled themselves. “Thanks, Jess. I really appreciate your help.”

She smiled, “No problem, just don’t slip off into Zombie Bella, she’s not cool. Same time next week?”

“If you can.” I answered.

“See you tomorrow and Tuesdays for calculus.” She paused before she left. “And, if you ever need to talk about it. Ange and I are here. She doesn’t have much experience with this end of things, but she’s a good listener.”

“Thanks, maybe sometime.” She gave me a knowing look before giving me a quick wave and leaving. The rest of the week I settled back in with the group who had been my first friends when I stated in at Forks High. Sure, Lauren and I were never going to be best friends, but I had friends again. And these friends weren’t going to accidentally eat me.

Friday came and Dad let me drive the truck to La Push, he crawled into the passenger seat, eyes falling on the radio. His eyebrows almost hit his hairline, but he didn’t say anything about it. The drive was quiet, with the occasional direction or turn from Dad. I parked in front of the Black’s home, it was a small red home, it was familiar. I knew that I had spent time here when I was younger, but that was so long ago, the memories had faded. A dark head of hair popped up behind a window and the door to the house flew open.

“Bella!” Jacob called, he was taller than I last saw him, broader too. His black hair was loose around his face, his eyes bright with a huge smile beaming on his face. He was like sunshine personified.

Dad opened the door. “Yeah, Jake, good to see you too.” He muttered, walking into the house without even glancing back at us.

Jacob smiled as he got to my door. “Dad said Charlie had been saying something about your radio…” His eyes traveled to the beat up mess in my dashboard.

“I didn’t like the song…” I offered.

His eyes were wide as I stepped out. “Care to let me know the song, so I don’t play it by accident?”

“I don’t know, it was on a station that I don’t listen to anymore.” I replied, jumping down from the truck to the ground. I had to tilt my head back to look at him. “How did you get taller?”

“Maybe you shrunk.” He teased, nodding to the doorway. “We better get in there, before those two start planning our wedding.” At my shocked face he paused. “C’mon Bella, you can’t tell me that you didn’t know those two in there have been trying to find ways to get us together since the first summer you were here.”

I shook my head, “I hadn’t known.”

Jacob eyed my curiously, “Really? You never noticed how much Charlie brought you down here?”

I shook my head again, following him into the house. When we entered, both of our fathers were seated in the kitchen, eagerly watching the door. “Hey, Billy.” I greeted awkwardly.

A smile split his face. “It is great to see you again, Bella. You look well.” There was a glint in his eye as he looked at me, I knew there was more to that statement, the lack of a vampire boyfriend for one.

“I’m doing my best.” I shrugged, taking the seat to the right of Dad, leaving the only seat open for Jacob, directly across from me.

“So Jake, what do you think the damage on Bella’s radio is?” Dad asked, spooning food onto his plate.

Jacob’s eyes flicked over to me. “I’m thinking she’s going to need a new one Charlie.”

I sighed, “Or I could just go without music, not a big deal.”

Billy’s eyes were on me again. I felt like I was under a microscope. “The current music that is released is shit anyways, can’t blame you for losing it on the radio.”

I chuckled, dinner was, different. It felt so familiar, but I know the last time I had dinner at the Blacks, Jacob and I were at an age of single digits. It was odd, us being just a few months shy of the other. Last year, his seventeen had seemed so far from my seventeen, he still had his baby face. But now, he had just reached eighteen and he had changed. He was more angular, bigger, more muscle, and impossibly taller.

“Bella?” A voice interrupted me, I glanced over to see Jacob across from me, his head tilted. “Earth to Bells?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” I answered, “What did you need?”

“Just was asking if you wanted me to check out your radio? Maybe fully remove it from the dash?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

He smiled, “Let’s go, leave these two alone. We can deal with the aftermath later.”

I giggled, actually giggled, and followed him out of the house, trying to ignore the gleeful look in our fathers’ eyes. Jake stopped by my truck.

“I’m gonna have to rip that out, there’s no saving it. You really did a number on it.” He said, shaking his head at it. “That was a nice radio.”

I shuffled my feet. “Yeah, I kinda lost it.”

He remained silent, glancing back toward the house. “Want to pull this in the garage and I can get the remains out so we can put the radio to rest?”

“Sure.” I said, hopping into the truck. Jake started walking through the yard and I followed him. The garage was behind the house, small, but hidden by trees and shrubbery, I doubt you could see much of it from the house. Which, if what Jacob had said about our fathers was true, was probably a good thing. I pulled up next to it as he came out with a small toolbox. Jake hopped into the passenger seat of the truck, lifted the toolbox lid and took out an assortment of screwdrivers.

He started in on the radio, removing screws with sure fingers until it loosened and he ripped it out. An empty hole was left in my dash, seemed poetic. “That should do it, if you have another I can install it.”

“I’m not sure I really like music right now, need a little break from it.” I said.

Jake nodded. “So how’s she been treating you?”

A smile broke across my face. “Great, I love this old truck. She takes good care of me.”

“She’s a hunk of junk.” Jake retorted.

“She is my hunk of junk. Now be nice before I banish you.”

“You could try.” Jake challenged. I narrowed my eyes at him and bumped my shoulder against his. He fell against the door in mock injury before a fit of laughter overtook him.

“Don’t fuck with my truck.” I snapped, laughing.

He held his hands up in defeat. “Point taken, want to meet my baby?” I quirked an eyebrow in interest. “C’mon, not every day I get to introduce her to a pretty girl.”

I felt the blush beginning to crawl up my neck as he jumped out of my truck. I shook my head and followed after him into the garage. A red car was propped up on cinderblocks, I recognized the Volkswagen insignia on the hood.

“1986 Volkswagen Rabbit.” Jake said proudly. “Almost finished, needs a few tweaks, then she’ll be perfect.”

“How long have you been working on her?” I asked, taking a circle around the car.

“Couple years now, Dad just got me the final parts I needed last spring. All that’s really left is cosmetic.” Jacob smiled. “She’s my college car. Figure I can run her back and forth while I go up to Peninsula.”

“What are you thinking of studying?” I asked, genuinely curious.

The smile on his face seemed to grow impossibly brighter. “I’m looking into their history track. With that degree I want to work to preserve the history here.” He gestured vaguely. “There’s so much that has been lost that I’d like to preserve what I can for future generations. The Elders aren’t getting any younger.”

I took a moment to truly look at Jacob. He looked so determined, passionate, alive. I felt a pang in my chest. “That sounds amazing.”

He chuckled and looked down, not before I saw a blush in his cheeks. “It’s not much. What about you?”

I chewed on my lip. “I’m not sure yet. I haven’t even applied to schools yet.”

“I could help you, apply if you want. Peninsula’s was easy enough.” Jake said, before he started stuttering over his words.

“I wouldn’t mind a little help. I think Dad has been a little worried that I haven’t applied anywhere. And Peninsula doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Maybe we could carpool?”

A small smile was on his lips, “Yeah, maybe.”

“They have a decent education program, from what I’ve heard.” Jacob supplied.

“Education?” I asked.

He chuckled, “When we were little you always talked about being a teacher like your mom. Obviously time changes things. I was convinced I was going to be a superhero.” He smirked. “But it’s a starting point.”

I nodded, then heard laughter coming from the direction of the house.

“Time to go home Bella!” Dad’s voice called out, I could hear him chortling with Billy.

Jake and I rolled our eyes in sync. “Well, it was nice catching up, thanks for the help with the radio.” I said, holding my hand out awkwardly.

Jacob’s hand encased mine as he shook it, “Don’t be a stranger, Bells.” He smiled. “Now let’s go before those two get any ideas.

#twilight #new moon fic #jacob black #jacob/bella #fever #bella swan #charlie swan #team jacob #twilight fic

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negans-lucille-tblr · 3 years

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Bee Reads

Hey guys!

Just thought I’d let you know that I’ve made a reading blog. This is where I’ll reblog all the fics I read with my feedback on them.

I’ve mainly set this up for selfish reasons including; being able to reblog a fic to the drafts of that blog so I can bookmark it for later, it’s easier to keep track of what I’m reading for things such as nominating to the Angel Fish awards on the Pond, I can tag more accordingly with pairings/genre/fic length so you guys can find exactly what you’re looking for, and know it’s something I recommend.

I realise that doing this won’t give blogs the same exposure as if I was to just reblog to my main blog here, so I will try to remember to reblog my “reads” reblog to this blog too. Like I said, the reading blog is mainly for myself for selfish reasons 😅

I am considering doing a monthly masterlist with all the fics I’ve read/reblogged that month, but no promises as life gets busy. I’ve already made an ultimate fave fics post, which is ongoing and will be added to overtime.

Either way, you’re welcome to follow it if you wanna see what I’m reading!

@negans-lucille-reads

Bee xxx

#bee reads #new blog #reading blog #give it a follow

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nananaptime · 4 years

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Necklace of fate

I’m on a roll today! xD

Masterlist Rules

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1 951

Summary: A world where you’re handed a necklace at birth which will help you find your soulmate.

The slight coldness of the incomplete locket was something I barely registered by now. Having felt it against my skin for as long as I could remember caused it to turn into a part of me. However, the fact that it had never changed in temperature was somewhat sad as that was the one sign your soulmate was near. Once it started growing warmer, all you had to do was analyse the temperature and move towards its hottest spot. That is if you want to meet your soulmate of course. As not everyone was too fond of the idea, the thought of finding my soulmate often caused a nervous knot to form in my stomach. What if they didn’t care to get to know me at all? My fate was lying in their hands, as they decided whether or not I was to be forever alone.

I touched my fingers to the locket as I made my way towards the practice room. I know I should’ve been more excited about the fact that my group was finally going to debut but having spent yesterday’s evening entertaining that feeling, the only one left was the excitement for a whole new world of people to open up in front of me. What if my soulmate was active in the music industry? That might explain why it had taken so many years before my necklace decided to increase its warmth.

Mia hooked her arm through mine once I entered the room, ready to start the dance practice, wanting it to be perfect for future variety shows as well as music performances. The energy was through the roof and I was happy to see my members so happy about the schedules for the day. Knowing that we had no more than a couple of hours before we had to be at the arena to prepare for our debut performance and then yesterday the entire day was to be spent in preparation for the MAMAs to which we were invited.

I managed to gather the girls to tell them my plan of just going through the performance and work on the parts we struggled with. They were all satisfied with the initiative and we were at it within five minutes. The excited feeling in my belly not disappearing for a second.

That evening, the girls were more excited than ever. The stylists even had to scold them a couple of times due to not being still when getting their makeup done. I just silently laughed at them, finding their giggly behaviour endearing. It took some time, but finally, we were ready to meet our fans for the first time. Mia, being extremely energetic, walked up to me, a big smile covering her features.

“Y/N! Can you believe this? Right this moment, people are filling the seats, the tickets were sold out! I am in awe!” I’ve never seen her this giggly before, it was almost like people would’ve mistaken her for the maknae of the group. I was about to answer when I felt my skin heat up. More specifically, the skin being covered by my locket. I gasped, instantly taking hold of it and lifting it from my skin, slightly startled by the sudden increase in temperature. Looking at Mia, she registered the alarm in my eyes in a moment, glancing down at my necklace and then looking at me again with a big grin on her face.

“Out of all places. I guess you have an even bigger reason to be excited now. We’re debuting and you’re about to meet your soulmate!” She grabbed my arms, forcing me to look at her and hence let go of the locket, causing the warm object to hit my skin once again. “Hey! Your soulmate is a fan of ours, that’s amazing!” I slowly pried her hands off of me.

“Yeah, which is why it will be near impossible to find them in the big group of people.” Her face fell when she realised the difficulty of the situation.

“Well…” She quickly managed to put a smile on her face once again. “Since it’s meant to be, you’ll meet them soon enough, this is just the first step.” I couldn’t help but giggle at her enthusiasm, even though I doubted it would be that easy.

I had no more time to think about that however, as our manager approached us as got us moving towards the stage.

It went perfect! Not one mistake, the high notes were on point, the rapping was as hot as fire and the dancing was as sharp as knives. Although the unusual heat of my locket acted as an uncomfortable reminder of a certain someone’s presence in the building caused some focus to slip from my mind. I was satisfied and relieved that no mistakes had been made during the most important performance of our lives. By the time we left the building, the locket was back to the familiar coldness against my skin.

The next day everyone was experiencing slight fatigue due to the lack of sleep everyone had as the excitement had been too evident. I had to force breakfast into most of my members in the morning and get them into our van on time in order not to be late to the rehearsals for the MAMAs. It came as no surprise when all of them ended up taking a nap on the way there, too tired to feel even an ounce of the excitement which had been present the day before. I took the chance myself and closed my eyes for ten minutes before ushering my members out of the car and into the building, trying to find our dressing room.

I tried paying no mind to the way my locket heated up as I entered the building, knowing that as the leader, I had to make sure my members were at the right place at the right time, no matter how much my heart protested.

Once at the dressing room, our stylist made us sit down and then act as mannequins as she dressed us for the occasion. I was very thankful to our stylist as she managed to keep it appropriate and at the same time extremely fashionable. She also understood when some of us would rather perform in flats than heels.

She was finished quickly and while the rest of my team decided to get some of the dance steps down, I opted to walk the building and look around, making sure that I knew what direction we were to go in when rehearsal began and when the time came for the award show to take place.

I rounded a corner and walked straight into someone’s chest. Looking up, I was met by a pair of shocked eyes as the person in question did not expect to be halted in his steps in such a manner. As I stepped back and took a better look I realised I had walked into the one and only NCT’s Renjun. I spluttered out an apology while bowing before trying to walk past him and find the entrance to the stage. However, a grip on my arm stopped me from walking any further.

“Wait, wait. You don’t need to apologize, it could happen to anyone.” I nodded, slightly awkward at his attempt at conversation. “I’m Renjun.” He extended his hand which I grabbed and shook.

“I know, I’m Y/N and I’m kind of a fan.” He chuckled at that.

“Well, so am I, but of your group, of course.” I gave him a shocked look, not expecting an idol to be a fan of us this early on in our career. He chuckled again. “We were at your debut showcase yesterday, Chenle, Jisung and I. You were awesome!” I couldn’t help but smile at the praise. Thanking him for his kind words, I explained my pursue for the way to the stage which he managed to be more than helpful as he offered to take me there and show me. We met up with Chenle on the way there who couldn’t stop going on about yesterday’s showcase, causing a very evident blush to appear on my face.

I touched my locket again, feeling it heat up more and more with every step and, along with it, the feeling in my stomach grew. Renjun noticed where my attention was at and commented on the obvious state of my necklace.

“Yeah, it started doing that yesterday as well, wish it would’ve started sooner and not interrupt such an important event as this. I need to concentrate.” He nodded understandingly, mentioning how he would never have the focus to perform with the knowledge of his soulmate being close by and hence, giving me props for pulling it off yesterday. All of a sudden, Chenle emitted a sound of surprise, causing both me and Renjun to jump out of our skin.

“Jisung’s necklace was also heating up yesterday at the showcase, he could barely concentrate, just looking around for someone who might be experiencing the same thing.” His shocked expression was exchanged for a happy one and he expressed certain knowledge of Jisung being my soulmate. I waved him off, not believing it to be true until it was obvious. Chenle rolled his eyes before fishing his phone out of his pocket, suddenly immersed in the contents of it.

A couple of minutes later he turned his attention back to me and announced with a smug smile that Jisung was checking out the stage as well. Then he grabbed my arm and started pulling me in the direction which we were headed.

The spotlight was already on the stage as the crew was making sure everything was working correctly. Jisung was standing with his back towards us, his outline illuminated by the light in front of him, making him look like some kind of angel. He and the other two were already clad in their outfits for Boom and hence, all ready for the award show to begin.

Jisung seemed to be frozen in shock and soon he turned towards us, his fingers on his locket and a confused look on his face. My locket went ballistic, heating up to such a temperature that it almost burned my skin, causing me to remove it with a shriek of surprise. Jisung’s eyes snapped towards mine and at the same time, Chenle decided that it was a good idea to give me a strong push in Jisung’s direction. With a small “oof” I stumbled forward, only coming to a stop when a startled Jisung caught me before I fell to the floor. Our eyes locked and before I could register what happened, my locket had lifted from my skin on its own accord and interlocked with Jisung’s in between us, connecting in a clash of heat.

Neither I nor Jisung knew what to say, all we could do was stare at each other like the love-struck fools we were. Then, acting as the perfect factor needed to ruin the moment, Chenle whispered loudly from behind us.

“Kiss, kiss!” Jisung gave him an exasperated look and shooed him off, causing Renjun to laugh and drag Chenle away, leaving me and Jisung alone on centre stage. He then glanced down towards out lockets, reached up and carefully separated them again. Now, however, as it settled back against my skin, it didn’t give away the usual cold feeling which I was so used to, but rather a comfortable warm presence. It made my heartbeat increase immensely. Jisung then looked at me again and a small, awkward chuckle left his lips, causing me to giggle.

“So?” He inquired. “Date?”

#nct #nct scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios #scenarios #jisung #park jisung #nct jisung #nct Dream #nct Dream scenarios #nctzen #music #nananaptime

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seenashwrite · 6 years

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Whaaaat, Pt. 1

No, really:

spnfanficpond mentioned you in a post: “August Angel Fish Awards”

Nominated by @babypieandwhiskey

@seenashwrite’s entire masterlist

Have you ever been reading a fic and had a slight tinge of deja vu? Ever been halfway through a fic and stopped mid sentence to ponder if you had read it before? It sounds familiar, sounds just like that fic you read the other day? Well then you aren’t reading anything written by Nash.

Nash has a writing style that is 100% her own, completely unique. Her storytelling is second to none. She understands fully how to pull at your heart strings and how to make you laugh until you snort. Nash doesn’t write (or at least like to write) “pure” angst/fluff/smut or “true” imagines. What she does write is some brilliant stories that are a combination of angst/fluff/smut intricately weaved together so you don’t even notice it switched from one to the other until you are deep in the trenches, laughing and crying and having your heart burst into a million tiny rainbows. Even her Sniped series which she herself claimed to be “pure” smut had all of these effects and more on me. I love this series to no end even if Nash feels it is blech. I haven’t read Nash’s entire Master List yet but if this series is “blech” I cannot wait to see what the rest of her Master List has in store, as this series blew me away!

Nash goes beyond just brilliant story telling too. She writes what she calls snark and her blog is the only place in the fandom I’ve found it. What is snark? Well, the best way to find out is to go read her Nope Saga, just go read it. But you have to have a sense of humor with these. So if that’s you, seriously, go read this and laugh your ass off. For anyone who has ever tried to convey sarcasm through written word, you know just how difficult that is to do, but Nash makes it seem effortless.

Her masterlist also has many other wonders for the intrigued, including many great fics with wonderful stories to tell, quickie fics, original works, other fandom fics, and video edits (which I adore)

Nash’s writing is outside the “box” of what fanfic typically is. She writes for herself and her readers and it shows in the best way possible! If you are looking for a change of pace, if you haven’t checked out her writing yet, give her a chance and you are bound to be pleasantly surprised by what you discover.

My fish net overfloweth. On god, y’all, BP-Dubs is not on the NashHole, Inc. payroll. @babypieandwhiskey - I’ve wracked my brain over what to say to all this, and came up lacking every time I put fingers to keyboard. Then came the cursing, and the dogs giving me the look, and me being all “Don’t judge me hounds oh no mommy loves you have some chicken biscuit”.

#that was this morning #I also offered coffee #thought better of it #nobody @ me #I’ve digressed

But seriously, the part that really touched my heart and made me gasp was that you think I’m original. I know I don’t write with the frequency some do, and that’s probably why, trying to drill down on something unique, and it’s good to know I’m pulling it off - and y’all better tell me if I start slippin’! Like I’ve said, that list has a hundred percent knock-out guarantee: they’ll either amaze you with all the feels, or they’ll put you to sleep, and sleep is also amazing, so it’s a win-win.😉 Thank you thank you thank you for thinking of me for this, I don’t get on lists often, so this was a real treat.

#Nash Replies #Nash Appreciates #babypieandwhiskey #Feedback Is Fuel #Readers Rule #Followers Are Fuel #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

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lauriesdrafts · 4 years

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headcanon masterlist

spring headcanons

summer headcanons

SUMMER. summer bummer. she’s not a fan (and frankly, me neither).

she did not have a pool. she did not have a tiny backyard to just get a sprinkler and jump around. she does not even know how to swim!

fall headcanons

fall left her with some mixed feelings. she loves learning, but she hates going to school. leaving her parents, waving her grandma goodbye by the school fence, seeing her brother in older classes make friends while she just collected remaining dandelions or daisies or crunchy leaves, big sad energy.

APPLE PICKING IS HER FAVORITE THING. loves loves loves apple picking. it was her birthday tradition. her family would

i’m still debating whether she likes pumpkin spice lattés or not... how low and basic can i go?

winter headcanons

she prefers winter to summer, always has and always will.

she hates big snow or ice storms. she’s scared of them.

she makes the cutest snowmen ever! carrot, scarves and all! and snow angels? HER FAVE.

she CANNOT SKI OR SNOWBOARD. she’s not made for that. unless you carry her in your arms or have her old the stick while skiing so she does nothing but follow you, she’s never going to try. snowboard? don’t even think about it, moving sideways is for crabs. this might have something to do with some ptsd from when her first boyfriend took her to a hill to ski and laughed at her because she wasn’t good and was scared anyway, it’s ice skating or nothing at all.

she only skates in arenas. she hates skating on lakes or any surface that is bumpy. she goes so fast she’ll just fall if she hits the smallest bump. fyi, alessandra never hates to fall. it’s humiliating.

she loves maple taffy on snow, she’s like addicted to it. and ever since she learned how to make it on her own, it’s dangerous.

she would throw fits if her winter suits didn’t match. she needed the hat, the mittens and the suit to be of the same color scheme or else you could not even take her out. tough times, since her parents just used adam’s older clothes to put on her.

childhood headcanons

teenager headcanons

if she was a teenager now, chances are she would probably be a vsco girl, but without the annoying attitude. she would be a walking pastel scrunchie.

she did not have much of a personal style growing up. maybe she was ahead of her time, but she 100% dressed like this or wore simple dresses like this one, this one or this one (lea michele tw; sorry i started this post before the whole catastrophe). she was either grunge emo tomboy or the annoying preppy teacher’s pet.

the truth is she was the annoying preppy teacher’s pet. her general average never went below 85% and she was a pleasure to have in class, except for the fact she talked all the time with her school friends.

she was not involved into any activities or clubs. although, during lunch times, teachers would stay in their classroom to help students who struggled. sandrine would offer to help too. she helped in french, english and history classes. she would give dictations, review the class material and help grade papers with the teachers. if she was not busy helping, she was stuck with her math teachers who tried to explain her that yes it’s unfair but algebra is real and she has to live with it. in other times, she was in the visual art classes. she could be found drawing or doing palette knife or watercolor paintings.

she hated physical education classes. she was good at only three sports: gymnastics, tennis and volleyball. she was too short and clueless for the rest.

every year, she would win an award for her excellence. she won 2 for her success in english classes, 2 for history and one for french as she got the highest grade of her school at the final exam of the ministry (québec’s education system is messed up).

gun tw! hunting tw! when she turned 15, her father signed her up for an outdoor activity complaining that the only time she spent outside was when she walked from the car to the arena. he wanted to take them camping, but sandrine refused. he wanted to take them fishing, but adam thought it wasn’t cool. so he took them hunting with some family friend who had a cabin two hours away from montréal. sandrine wasn’t really into the idea of hunting, but the siblings built a competition of who could shoot better. they took shooting lessons, and on the first attempt, sandrine hit the bullseye. not just the bullseye! but between the two bullet holes that were in the bullseye. adam couldn’t even hit the target. the hunting weekend arrived, and sandrine was not having it. she didn’t want to wake up early to dress in camo and sit in the cold and humid fall mornings. they didn’t see any animals except a curious squirrel, because sandrine talked the whole time. they never went hunting since this day. moral of the story: she’s the canadian sniper, bradley cooper hit her up pls you’ve found your match.

illness tw! she did not attend her prom ball. she did not care about it and did not want her parents to spend money on a dress she’d never wear again, she preferred to help them save up to pay for her grandmother’s treatments (@bernie sanders: no the canadian healthcare system is not all free, sorry to burst your bubble). instead, adam organized a tiny little party at home for his sister since he did attend his ball two years prior.

oh, and one more! adam was stuck in some drama involving a complicated love triangle or some shit and there were rumors going around the school that a fight would happen between him and another guy. adam was terrified (hint: he’s not the throwing gloves on ice type of hockey player). so do you know who showed up to the fight after class? SANDRINE. she kicked the guy in the crotch, knee kicked him in the stomach and managed to slam him against the lockers. when the principal called the hébert siblings to his office the next day, he didn’t believe such a fragile creature as sandrine could do such an evil thing and she got away with it.

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spnfanficpond · 3 months

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January 2024 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words. (Click here to learn more about how to nominate a fic for an award!)

Nominated by @heavenssexiestangel

The Unconventional Meet-Cute by @schizonephilim

I wanted to read something different from my usual go-to, and I had this story in my To Be Read 'pile' for a while, so I read chapter 1! I can't wait to read chapter 2. It's really well-written and the sexy times are awesome.

~*~*~

Nominated by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

Full of Grace by ilovehowyouletmefall (AO3)

I love this fic. I have read this thing so many times. I love the intimacy and how they develop organically. How Cas just takes why Dean gives and it’s how it should be in my head. It’s sweet and fluffy. I wish Dean would stop calling Cas “pal” as if he’s fucking Mickey Mouse and Pluto but it’s amazing. I return to it a lot. It’s a comforting story that deals with mental health and I’m glad it’s set in heaven.

Cuddle Deprivation by @destielshipper4cas

This is sooo good. It’s an incubus that feeds off affection and emotions through touch. It is so good. So fluff, Castiel and Dean confused about the different cultures, which I think is a great element because it's a common problem with relationships from people of different countries or even skin color at times. Must read.

Cuddlibus by @destielshipper4cas

It’s an incubus that feeds off affection and emotions through touch. It is so good. So fluff, Castiel and Dean confused about the different cultures, which I think is a great element because it's a common problem with relationships from people of different countries or even skin color at times.

Heartstring Promenade by @winchester-reload

This is the ending to the series I wanted.

Destiel's 1st Time by @chaoticmotherofall

Holy shit. Wow, primal. Rawr. Must read smut. I think it’s the scene most of the fandom would want to see if they could. Sorry, not sorry.

Dean's Delights by Redamber79 (AO3)

Destiel. Baker Dean. Can smell each other through blockers. Insecure Cas. Love it! He just wants to eat Dean up and kind of does! True mates are delicious, don’t ya think?

The Company by CasCase (AO3)

You’re gonna get intimidated by the language of ballet vocab but don’t worry, it isn’t important. It’s such an amazing love story and so well written. Wow. There is even artwork of the seriously important emotional scenes that just make it so much better. Omg! I wish this was a fucking movie because it’d be gorgeous!

Room for Two (The Mattress AU) by @almassi

Schmoopy fluffiness. I love it! I also love that Cas actually gets everything but doesn’t show it. Lol. He got the references.

truly there's nobody for you but me by Abi_in_the_Cosmos (AO3)

Omfg, hotness. Cas so teasing Dean. The shorts are used. The shorts in the BTS on the show of Jensen wearing denim short shorts, which of course Dean says they exist for an in-story reason. I don’t care. It’s great.

this heart and flesh shall fail by ValandraWrites (AO3)

Monsterfucker story, technically. Great story. Dean is not technically underaged despite what it says. Twist ending. Beautiful story with a sexy but sad twist.

The Biological Ways by @sitruunavohveli

Three words: Accidental office romance Destiel! A/b/o! Love it. Love that it’s Charlie too. Yay! I also am a huge fan of this author’s works. I’ve had the pleasure of working with them and they’re just amazing to work with. Please check them out.

Weighted by amireal, tiamatv (AO3)

I absolutely love this fic because I actually sleep with a weighted blanket and when my kids are sick, they love their own. I even have one in the car. It’s light but enough to feel it. This is just so fluffy and romantic all thanks to our favorite redhead introducing weighted blankets which helps so much. It’s been shown to even help babies but blankets aren’t great for them. Anyway, they’re so cute and that scene where Dean opens his eyes all slow and gentle with “hey”, just broke me. My husband and I do that periodically and it just means more snuggles and sleep. lol. Poor Castiel thinking he couldn’t have Dean which I understand since Dean has said so much he is straight or implied it rather often. Ugh. This was done so well. Thank you both!

~*~*~

Nominated by @deeranger

When There's Only You by AnOddSock (AO3)

It's such a visceral and extremely well-written story, dark and full of intense angst but at the same time it highlights that profound tenderness and affection between Sam and Dean. The whole "there is no me if there is no you". I was on the edge of my seat all the way through, my heart breaking for the brothers in such a delightful way. This fic is a great rollercoaster ride, like a dark porn with a substantial amount of well-thought-out plot. Heed the tags though... Your feels might not come out intact.

~*~*~

Nominated by @spnexploration

She Thought She Was Normal (series) by @aylacavebear

This is @Aylacavebear's first fic she's putting out into the wild and it's going to be a long multi-chapter journey. What a way to start! This first chapter takes us to poor Maria as a child, who has just lost her mother to a yellow-eyed demon, and Bobby sets her and her Dad up with Sam and Dean. Can't wait to see the whole journey!

Cuddle Deprivation by @destielshipper4cas

This was adorable!! The whole concept of cuddlibus was so cute and I loved when both Dean and Cas were trying to get more out of the relationship but thinking the other didn't want it. And including Sam's cuddlibus daughter was also adorable

Power Grows out of the Barrel of a Gun by Alaisabel (AO3)

I absolutely loved this AU. There are so many twists and turns and I had such a fun time working out what was going on. Dean is so anti-authority and he ends up in a relationship with Cas, a cop.

~*~*~

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Fluffy Faerie Tales (series) by @ladylilithprime

This universe and the characters in it are so fascinating! Sam and Dean are half-fae, and Jimmy and Cas have a backstory that is wildly different than anything else I've ever read! (No spoilers!) Sam/Cas/Jimmy is a threesome I've never read before, I don't think, and I'm loving it. So far, all of these stories are filled with plenty of fluff, and the perfect way to end my day. Sweet dreams of faeries and friends are always welcome!

Cuddle Deprivation and Cuddlibus by @destielshipper4cas

I am now OBSESSED with the idea of cuddlibi!!! Like those who have nominated this story above, I find this idea adorable and sweet. And Cas is just SO SWEET! And there's so much delicious pining in both of these stories!! I now want to read ALL the cuddlibus stories!!

THANK YOU ALL, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

- From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @spencereliotwinchester, and @heavenssexiestangel!

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spnfanficpond · 24 days

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March 2024 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Nominated by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

Undercover Movercum by CaseofUnderjoy (AO3)

I laughed nearly the entire time. Sam’s reaction is priceless. Dean’s non-reaction is just perfect. I died laughing at the end. The names Dean picked too are great. It is 18+. Warning: involves sexual fluids, a lot. 🤣

~*~*~

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Undercover Movercum by CaseofUnderjoy (AO3)

I have to second the above AFA for this ridiculous crack fic!! It's a disgusting but hilarious little crack fic that kept me giggling the whole way through!!

Morning After by @lizleeships

OMG, It's HILARIOUS!! Wing snuggles, hangovers, grumpy budgie Cas, Cas's abs, and Dean's inner monologue about all of the above. Who could ask for anything more?

~*~*~

Nominated by @heavenssexiestangel

Apple Pie and the Apocalypse by @ladyknightskye

I don't remember if I nominated it when I just read chapter 1... But whatever. I'm on chapter 5 and I'm absolutely loving it. It's a rollercoaster of emotions already 😂 crying, awwing, laughing my ass off at Chuck... and shout out to @hawkland for the amazing art btw!!! I love it too!

~*~*~

Nominated by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Scratch That Itch by @talltalesandbedtimestories

It is SO cute and funny and very, very Dean. As a beagle. DID I SAY CUTE?!

Birthdays: Winchester Sandwich Style by @sam-is-my-safe-word

This is some AU Firefighter Dean and Lawyer Sam competing for Reader's attention DELIGHT. It's fun and sexy in my favorite ways.

Heat by @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis

I will always check out a good sex pollen/curse fic with the Winchester brothers as the cure. Hnnngggfffkkk. This is not only very sexy and knuckle-bite-y, but there's a fun little twist.

~*~*~

Nominated by @mariekoukie6661

His Doll by @impala-dreamer

It's filthy, it's smutty and it's so goood! I love it so much! Nothing like pure smut to put you in a good mood!

(Divider by @glygriffe)

THANK YOU ALL, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

- From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, and @heavenssexiestangel!

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spnfanficpond · 8 months

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August 2023 Angel Fish Awards!

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Nominated by Anonymous

Tangled Fates by @outofnowhere82

Nominated by @katbratsupernaturalwhore

Factory Reset by @talltalesandbedtimestories

The build up, the sass, the care she took, the pegging, the focus on description, the deliciousness... Mmmm I wanna eat him up!

Love; For the First Time by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

Adorable first time fic. Good build, sweet and fluffy and steamy!

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

An Imagined Life by @imagineteamfreewill

This is the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff AND IT HAS IKEA!!! I mean, I couldn't ask for anything more!! *heart eyes forever*

I'm So Sorry, Sammy by @bobwess

(AO3 link) ANGST!!! So much angst, man. Y'all know I love John Winchester, but even I can acknowledge he was not a great dad. Usually, I avoid fics with the "John's A+ parenting" tags because I have very strict ideas about his incompetence as a father. This story really shows a way that I can see in canon John would be especially crappy as a dad. No pairing, just a seriously angtsy genfic showing teenage Sam being a BAMF and Dean's heart breaking. (Sort of happy ending, though! You know me. lol)

Nominated by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

Why I Do It by @kazsrm67

This drabble and it's companion piece (from Dean's POV) is short and incredibly sweet. It's a lovely little slice of life for the boys and the reader. I always love when we get to see Dean happy, and he is, in this fluffy piece. Happy, loved and taken care of - us Dean girls can't ask for more. A highly enjoyable read!

Nominated by @glygriffe

Imperfections by @thewritingspot /@troize

Seeing Lucifer in another light, as an insecure middle child in a big family fired my brain cells! And of course, Gabriel being himself even as a kid. (And also: Art!!!)

Never Say Goodbye by @zepskies

It's a soulmate AU series, but it's also a reader insert that stays close to canon. Sweet and angsty and smutty... A little bit of everything all rolled into one satisfying story.

Untitled ask prompt by @sugaraddictarchangels

This ficlet is the only Jess!Lucifer representation I've ever seen and it's so refreshing to see early seasons' Lucifer under that light!

Nominated by @heavenssexiestangel

Between the Three by @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell

This fic was written for me in all senses of the word, and I love how she characterized Arthur, Mick, and Dean and the different ways they react to being parents-to-be. Of course, the smut is great, but I also love how they clearly all love each other and want to be a family.

The Great 'Nah-Duh' of Dean Winchester by @ladyknightskye

I love this fic because it gave me Gadreel/Dean without having to write it myself, and also because it's well written and I love how soft Gadreel is... And the fact Dean has his Bisexual Awakening with him? LMAO!

Nominated by @iprobablyshipit91

Never Say Goodbye (series) by @zepskies

I’m an absolute sucker for soulmate AUs and this one was amazing. The reader and Dean's relationship was built beautifully and I loved how the ending ‘fixed’ things!

Baby Spoon (series) by @deanwanddamons

This really made me feel so many emotions. Seeing Dean so happy and having the relationship he deserves made me so happy despite everything.

The Prettiest One by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

This was literally so adorable and made me laugh so much. It’s such a good one to go back to and read over again.

Carry On (series) by @jawritter

This was just the perfect fix-it fic we all needed after *that* ending. It wasn’t rushed and it by no means sugar-coated what happened. There are some real struggles and a lot for both the reader and Dean to overcome but it’s damn worth it!

Pack (series) by @spnexploration

This is a story I’ve definitely gone back and reread a few times and it’s so close to the end, I can’t wait to see the final chapters. Overprotective Dean is always perfect but I really enjoy the pack dynamics in this and Maddie is a brilliant addition!

Heart of a Hunter Saga (series) by @muchamusedaboutnothing

Where to even start with this, every single stand-alone story in this saga is excellent in its own right and combined together this whole story is amazing. I love Dean and the reader's relationship and how they’ve managed to carve out a family life that works for them. Brilliant!

Baby, We’ve got a Problem (series) by @deanwritings

I love the unique concept of this, Baby getting turned human, and the implications this has particularly for Deans's relationship. I’ve read it a few times as it’s so easy to go back to and enjoyable to read.

Always You and Me by @deanwinchesterswitch

I just loved this story and how it built up. The dialogue is hilarious and while I did guess what was happening, it in no way detracted from how awesome this story is.

Hold On I’m Coming (series) by @ravengirl94

This was one of the first firefighter Dean fics I read and I loved it. The relationship the two of them have and the twists and turns are just perfect.

Captives of the Court by @impala-dreamer

This story instantly got my attention. I loved the way the story moved between what was happening now and what had happened to lead up to that point and how everything came together at the end. Amazing story.

The One That Got Away (series) by @pink-sparkly-witch

This story just hits you in the feels. It’s not finished but I’m so in love with Dean and the reader already and can’t wait to see how their relationship progresses!

Midnight Espresso / Devour Me (series)by @zepskies

There was something so sweet about these two stories that I instantly fell in love with the reader and dean in this. I connected with the plus-sized reader but Dean is so sweet and adorable. I just loved it.

Collared (series) by @spnexploration

I’ve been reading this story from pretty much when it started being posted and I’ve loved every second, I’m so excited and sad that it’s ending. It’s an amazing story full of protective Dean which I live for and it’s just perfect.

The Last Call by @kasimagines

I could have nominated so many of Kasimagines' stories but there’s something about this one that just really hits me and I’ve read it so many times. The loyalty Dean shows despite the years is beautiful and the effect John has on them all is heartbreaking.

Dream On (series) by @talesmaniac89

There’s something about this fic that I just absolutely love. It’s a comfort fic I’ve gone back and read so many times. Dean's overprotectiveness and worry and concern for the reader is just adorable.

Miscommunication (series) by @winchest09

This is another story I’ve read so many times. I love the story and the British reader really resonates with me being from the UK! I love the confusion between the same words meaning different things to British vs American, it makes for some interesting conversations!

If You Want It To Be (series) by @zepskies

This got me feeling so Christmassy in July! It was just such a lovely heart warming story, I adored it.

Nominated by @mariekoukie6661

House of the Rising Sun by @kittenofdoomage

MAFIA AU!!!! This has been a joy to read for the first time and it's always a joy to reread!!!

Nominated by @thoughtslikeaminefield

The Hero Always Gets A Kiss by @fandomoniumflurry

I’m a sucker for ChesterVelle, heroes, and kissing. This is one of my old faves I like to re-read every once in a while.

No Title by @stusbunker

This is sooooo Sam, and it's sooooo swoony and real. It's fucking electric.

Factory Reset by @talltalesandbedtimestories

This is so. well. written. So sexy. So good for Dean. He deserves this so much. This writer did their research but this doesn't read like a manual. It's thorough and intimate and exactly what Dean should have every day — someone taking care of him.

No Title by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

For the love of god, he’s just Like This, isn’t he? Like always. In canon, in headcanon, in fic — ALWAYS. And I love the way this writer objectifies him.

Nominated by @inenochian

Restless Wanderer by intothesilentland (AO3 only)

This story is such a beautiful soft romance set in 19th C Cornwall. Beautiful portrayal of Dean and Cas!

Nominated by @salt-n-burn-em-all

The Talismen series by Lochinvar (AO3 only)

Gives us insight into people who helped the boys grow up into the men they became. Not always Hunters, more like strangers who sometimes didn’t know exactly how much they helped until years later, if ever.

Nominated by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

Hunter’s Throne (series) by @ladyknightskye

It’s such a beautiful story and I love the angel-human lore. It’s so complimentary to each other and that bond is just so Cas and Dean. They have got to talk. It’s part of what’s we readers love about them because once they do, it only gets better and fluffy! I loved it so much I posted about it on my blog to advertise it because it is worth the read and keeps to the essence of the show.

THANK YOU ALL, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

- From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @princessmisery666, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @katbratsupernaturalwhore, and @heavenssexiestangel!

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spnfanficpond · 4 months

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November/December 2023 Angel Fish Awards

(Angel Fish design by @slytherkins!!)

Nominated by @deanwinchesterswitch

Five-Finger Discount by @talltalesandbedtimestories

This story is so smartly written - so many fantastic descriptions and lines of dialogue and it flows so beautifully. I didn’t want it to end. If you don't already have an obsession with Dean's hands, you will by the end of this fic.

~*~*~

Nominated by @annahmiraculousmillenium

A New Form by Kenophobia (AO3)

I'm nominating this story because it introduced me to a new tag I really like now: "Shapeshifter Dean" Sam is bossy (and Dean actually obeys!) Bobby is in there! John dies! And other cool things I don't want to spoil. Also, it's gen.

~*~*~

Nominated by @glygriffe

Said the Salmon to the Sea by @bendingsignpost

A mesmerizing (or mermaid-rising?) Dean-centric story about change, about the fact that it comes whether we want it to or not, and how the heck we deal with it. “If this is as far as we can go, it’s as far as we can go,” Dean says with a heavy shrug. Slowly, Sam says, “It’s as far as I can go.” “Yeah, that’s what I just said.”

The Angel of Emetgis V by Kayliemanlinza (AO3)

I read this as part of the Dean/Cas Reversebang 2022 (with beautiful art by @missaceriee) and the concept of true-form Castiel as an alien meeting "grease-monkey" Dean in deep space is compelling as much as how love is expressed between species. (Here is the original DCRB post that made me discover the story)

~*~*~

Nominated by @heavenssexiestangel

Unlikely by @apocalypseornaw

This story was written for me for the Secret Santa hosted on the Pond. It's a lovely fic with Ketch/GN!Reader, something there kind of is a lack of (both with GN and Male reader inserts). And like, also with Ketch lol it was a really nice pick-me-up as I'm not having the best of times right now, and it made me read an author I didn't know before, so it's a win-win Situation!

Follow That Car! by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD (AO3)

A really nice, short Ketch/Dean story with a side of murder. "I wish to fuck you, Dean" is forever embedded in my brain.

~*~*~

Nominated by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Spotless by @stusbunker

This is a Dean x reader AU with SO MUCH DELICIOUS PINING!!!! And now Bela's involved! And the reader gets to watch Dean and Bela make heart eyes at each other!! SO MUCH YUMMY ANGST!!!

~*~*~

Nominated by @salt-n-burn-em-all

Care and Feeding by foolishgames (AO3)

Sam is somehow turned into a cat. The best stories are the first and last ones if you are not an S/D reader, then can be read as mostly Gen.

Dissecting the Bird by nigeltde (AO3)

♥♥♥ Just right.

The Witch and the Wolfen by meus_venator (AO3)

I love everything about this story- meus has an amazing talent and this is one I reread often- plus, it just got a second story!

Sounds Like Truth Feels Like Courage by Sprinkle888 (AO3)

Well-written SPN story. Gen, no pairing, but it doesn’t need one. Sam binds them together with some MoL magic rings and finding out how they work is a riot. Some angst, temp character death, but ends happily. 10/10 recommend. Also posted on my Tumblr.

~*~*~

Nominated by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

Slither by Tiamatv (AO3)

I absolutely love this story! The show of cultural differences between Dean and Castiel that even the reader will miss the cues. Lol! The conversation about sex was hilarious especially since Dean doesn’t ask. 😂 Wait until you read the word “clasp”. Poor Dean. Look up the word: hemipene. This stems all the hilarity in the fic. Just wait. Just wait. It’s hilarious!! SPOILER: Castiel is a naga refugee that is half human and half beautiful snake, and Sam basically “adopted” him as a charity project that turns into Dean’s charity project that ends up making him very happy very quickly.

Rubber Duckie Boots by Hexentaenzerin (AO3)

This such an adorable meet-cute. I love it! I also love that Dean wears rubber duckie boots while videoing carpet cleaning videos for his business, which Castiel absolutely loves to watch. Just can’t get enough of seeing Dean in those boots. Castiel even buys a rug to try to get Dean to notice him. **squee** It’s great! The ending is so Dean and Castiel. ❤️❤️❤️

Weighted by Tiamatv and amireal (AO3)

Close Encounter of the Fourth Kind by Fathersalmon (AO3)

First, this is smut. Second. It is fucking hilarious! I rarely find crack in smut. You have to read this hilarity. Dean’s sassy mouth is just amazing in this while Castiel just ignores him. 🤣 If you want to laugh, read this!

Firelight Glow by bleuzombie (AO3)

I just love how it progresses and the ending is great though. It’s so sweet and fluffy. Their connection is so tangible the reader can feel it like the characters do. It also has Trans Dean Winchester, which I always love to read, especially by @bleuzombie who knows how to write them so authentically and truthfully.

~*~*~

Nominated by @spencereliotwinchester

Stray Hearts by blujay44 (AO3)

It's definitely a weird one, but I really like how fluffy it is. Really, though, it's weird... but it's a feel-good one, especially when Jensen comforts Jared.

Pastiche (orphaned work on AO3)

This is literally one of my favorite SPN fics ever. I reread it a lot. Features Autistic!Jensen and loveable goldenretriever Jared who just wants to get to know his neighbor.

Flash by ellia (AO3)

Short, sweet, almost possessive... Also features my two favorite boys: Jensen and Christian.

For the Taking by veronamay (AO3)

Steamy, sexy, bdsm, Jared and Jensen. What more could you ask for??

~*~*~

Nominated by @mariekoukie6661

House of the Rising Son by @kittenofdoomage

I really love the idea of Sam and Dean being the bad guys! The story as a whole is so goood!

Blood and Honey by @kittenofdoomage

Dark!Winchesters are my favorite kind of tropes! This is such a great story, very well written!

Baklavas For Your Birthday by @cloverhighfive

This is very cute!!!

Muddy Soul by @impala-dreamer

This is so good! Its very dark at times and you absolutely need to mind the tags! But this is such a great series!

Strangers by @smellingofpoetry

Very cute story!! I liked it!!!

I am my beloved’s and my beloved’s mine by @heavenssexiestangel

Very cute! Very fluffy!!!! I liked it!!!!

THANK YOU ALL, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

- From your Admins and Manta Rays, @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @spencereliotwinchester, and @heavenssexiestangel!

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