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seaoftales · 1 month

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⭐

*cracks knuckles* Including the muses we used to write, and probably will again, I hope you're ready for TheList™:

Dracule Mihawk

Nami - MiMi supremacy going strong forever and always, but also what if Mihawk found Nami stealing from him and she spills the beans on what Arlong's done to her and her village? 👀

Athelar - I need all the brother threads all day every day, the angst and comfort and them bonding over the years they lost

Shanks - MiShanks? 👀 But also a scenario where Mihawk agrees to join the Red Haired Pirates, not to mention a thread where they absolutely can't stand one another and keep battling it out every time they meet each other.

Shanks

Nami - preeeetty self explanatory but there's so many more things that live rent free in my head for these two, like them settling down somewhere nice, Shanks passing down the title of Yonko/retiring completely and acting like a mentor to those who want to be mentored. But also Shanks becoming King of Pirates, with things either hitting the fan and him being executed with Nami having to watch, or they both work towards making sure the world's well rid of the Marines and World Government, plus another like 28364 ideas I have for these two!

Athelar - I'd love to see how these two would vibe together when alone, but also a thread where Athelar does meddle in destiny when something unexpected in the grand scheme of things happens that threatens all the balance he saw the future holds

Benn Beckman

Nami - besides the plots we currently have in the works, I was thinking that maybe instead of Bellemere, Shanks and co. get to Nami's island that was being raided when she was a baby, and just like Shanks took Uta in, Benn does the same with Nami and the two dads raise their two daughters together on board the Red Force

Shanks - I live for Beck tormenting Shanks about everything and anything and I need more of it! Grilling him about his love life? All the 'I told you so's when he gets too drunk (nvm that Beck gets equally drunk), but also young Shanks and young Beck meeting for the first time and Shanks trying to convince Beck to join his crew

Uta

Nami - I need them to be besties, them bonding over their once mutual hate for pirates before meeting the right ones that made them change their minds

Shanks - Gimme all father/daughter threads ever because yes! Shanks helping Uta through her espresso-depresso era, finding somebody for her to help her get a hang of her Devil Fruit powers because gods know she doesn't have any control over it, and just generally wholesome and domestic things

Javi

Nami - I need more of the 'well, I guess my step-mom's younger than I am' awkward moments, but also them becoming friends whenever the Straw Hats visit the RHP, and there could also be potential for some shippy things!

Shanks - Javi being a little menace to Shanks, especially when he's younger, is living rent free in my head. Then there's all the parental figure threads we could go for, Shanks teaching him how to fight with swords, but also comforting him that he doesn't have to be like his dad just because some people expect him to be as good as Mihawk

Athelar - UNCLE THREADS! Athelar being that cool uncle with a super awesome ship who shows up at random and has all the coolest gadgets and Javi wanting to spend as much time with him as possible.

Other muses and plot blurbs are under the cut because it's Long™

Thomas Magnum

Juliet - MIGGY! All things Miggy, all the Miggy fluff, angst, hurt, EVERYTHING. But especially them having their little family of at least 2 kiddos running around, there's no threats anymore, maybe they even closed down the PI business and are focusing on working at the Nest and taking care of their kids (plus you know Robin would pretty much pay for anything they want, even when they tell him no)

Steve - I've been recently toying with the idea of what if Steve and Thomas were on the same team together when serving in the Navy, so there's potential for threads that take place in the sandbox, but also when Steve comes home in season 1, Thomas follows and Steve asks him to be on the team since day 1

TC - bonding in the sandbox, maybe some POW camp threads, TC flying TM out but the chopper has a malfunction and they have a crash landing on a potentially deserted island and need to survive

Lia - All the Thia threads, especially in a what if scenario where Miggy doesn't happen. I can see them eventually moving in together after working things out after the break up, maybe start a family down the line, but also angsty threads where they are exes having to work on a case together because AWKWARDNESS AND TENSION (and pent up sexual frustration)

Robin - Robin and TM meeting for the first time when Robin was still a journalist, all the shenanigans they went through, TM accompanying Robin to a book event where shit hits the fan and Robin's taken hostage

Chris - TM being like that annoying little brother to him, maybe they're purposefully thrown together on the same case to 'work out their differences', TM inviting him to their ohana gatherings every opportunity possible

Luciana - FAMILY BONDING TIME, especially after Katherine dies and Thomas really needs a shoulder to cry on, him showing off his super cool ex-sister-in-law to his friends when she comes to visit in Hawaii

Ethan Shah

Juliet - ALL THE SHIPPY THREADS! A thread where rather than flipping out when Juliet tells him about her past, Ethan sits down with her and hears her out, tries to understand and actually communicates his feelings for her.

Steve - I like the idea of Ethan kind of being the doctor they call for whenever anybody (read: Steve) from Five-0 gets injured on a case because he knows how to wrangle Steve into at least somewhat listening to him.

Chris - hear me out: Before Ethan moved to Hawaii, him and Chris worked in the same city and had frequent run-ins. I'd love to see them sit down, catch up, maybe even deepen their professional relationship and friendship.

Tani Rey

Juliet - the way both shows robbed us of both our fem muses having proper fem friends is horrible. Tani will drag Juliet out of the house whenever possible, not even going to put up with Juliet's protests. I need them to be besties we deserve to have!

Steve - McRey? McRey! All the shippy things! Steve finding his happy ending in Tani, retiring and settling down, her helping him stay with both feet on the ground and helping him through potential therapy, just being his rock and loving on him 24/7.

Leo - awkward dates when they're both off the schedule, bonding over things they both like, just being cute and sweet together, them also being a little competitive on which of them is the better surfer.

Noelani - gimme more besties threads! I want them both to go on a vacation together without having to worry about what the team is up to.

Lia - Tani and Lia working on a joint H50/HPD case together and things get really bad. I'm thinking they maybe get captured or they get cornered and one of them gets badly injured.

Chris - further down the line when Tani is promoted to leader of the team (and where Chris never dies because f that plotline alltogether) they constantly butt heads on whether Five-0's methods are good or not, and it eventually turns into sort of enemies to lovers trope.

Danny Williams

Steve - McDanno! A thread where they actually retire and open up the restaurant which is an instant hit rather than a miss

Chris - before Danny fully retires, he opts to bring in somebody experienced enough so the team still functions as it should, so he goes and talks to Chris if he would want to be on the team. Both are for doing things by the book and Danny believes Chris would be reinforcing that rule whenever possible.

Juliet - instead of fake-marrying Thomas, Juliet asks Danny if he would be willing to play the hubby, that way there would be no conflict between Juliet and Thomas and no bad blood.

Lia - what if Lia was the one (beside Steve) to show Danny just how nice Hawaii is? I can see them working a case together and they just click, so they start seeing each other and eventually end up dating.

Loki Laufeyson Friggason

Thor - post Infinity War, after Loki successfully faked his death once more and all the Asgardians, including Thor, have settled on Earth, Loki shows up, explaining to Thor that he needed that push after Asgard was destroyed to fuel his anger, and his "death" was something he knew would affect him greatly

Tony - post Thor 1, after Loki lets himself fall into the void, instead of being picked up by Thanos, Loki directly lands on Earth, takes up the mantle of a successful entrepreneur and connects with lots of people, Tony included.

Sigyn - the ways Sigyn would ground Loki if she was ever in the movies, and she would be his whole world along with their kidlets.

Yon-Rogg

Tony - I shall inflict pain on you with this one and you'll hate me for it. Endgame, Tony snapped his fingers, the world's restored to as it should be and he's dying. Carol's there, she remembers how Yon saved her all those years ago and she goes to him, brings him to Earth and he does the same with Tony

Carol - YonVers, and I shall accept nothing less! Yon being stripped off his title after losing to Carol and some years later she finds out he's been stuck in a slave camp of sorts, so she bails him out/buys him to be hers but she gives him freedom instead. OR! Carol managing to talk sense into Yon at the end of the first movie and in the second one it's revealed that they got married and chill on her ship.

Killian Jones

Emma - Captain Swan, all day every day. Them leaving Storybrooke together to live a happy life before shit once more hits the fan, but also the early stages where Killian endlessly teases and pursues Emma but she's having none of it!

Liam - gimme all the brotherly bonds, especially Liam never dying but they both rebel against their king, run the crew together, maybe even take a whole new path in life and don't stay pirates

Andrea Talverton

Emma - sister-in-law bonding time, Andrea potentially showing Emma what being a princess is like and them just having a wholesome bond together

Liam - Lirea, one of my alltime favourite ships to this day. I'd love to write all the happy things with them, them settling down, having a family, Andrea helping Liam get used to living in Storybrooke. But also, while in the Enchanted Forest, either Rea running way with Liam so they can be together or him asking her dad for her hand in marriage.

Geralt of Rivia

Yennefer - disregarding Geralt's last wish for him and Yennefer to be together forever, what if they instead opt to have a friends with benefits relationship that slowly and steadily develops into something more?

Jaskier - GERASKIER, all day, every day. I want to see Geralt suffer after he tells Jaskier off, them meeting sometime later and Jaskier straight up refusing to acknowledge Geralt ever existing, so the witcher really has to work for Jaskier's friendship and love.

Triss - I'm still of the opinion that Triss is a better match for Geralt, but I want it to be with a twist. Instead of Triss doing what she did, Geralt falls for her over time while they're both working for King Foltest and have a steady relationship that way.

Mithra Kalila - Following their marriage, I was thinking that her advisers keep telling her how Geralt is a bad idea to have as a husband, especially since he's sterile and won't be able to provide her with an heir, meanwhile Geralt proves them all wrong and is a loving and doting hubby

Anna Henrietta

Jaskier - I need all the threads with them where they are lovers while Annarietta's hubby is out of the Duchy on whatever business. Imagine Anna's all loving towards him one day, the other she throws him in the dungeons, the third day she gets him out and is all sorry.

Magnus Bane

Alec - gimme all the Malec and pre-Malec threads! Magnus doing his hardest to sway Alec, Alec giving him the cold shoulder, and then there's the stone touches and hidden kisses while they sneak around others so they don't know. But also married Malec, them adopting a baby or two or five!

Evan Buckley

Eddie - BUDDIE! Always and forever Buddie! Buddie on vacation (can go as friends before things finally spark up between them), also them taking care of Christopher together!

Blake Richards

Liam - maybe they exorcise the demon out of Liam and after their two new team members try to get him killed, he leaves the organization, Blake follows him and they open a whole new paranormal investigator organization.

Avery Murray

Steve - eyeing all of those shippy threads we had with them in the past and I'd love to revive those. They have so much potential and Avery being able to ground Steve is just so !!!!!!!!!!!

Juliet - I've said it before and I'll say it again, we don't have nearly as many girl friendship representation in both shows as we deserve! Also, Avery maybe hiring Juliet for a case, like a client of hers seems really dodgy and she wants to be sure that he's a good guy before she accepts the job offer, that sort of thing!

Simon Basset

Anthony - Simon and Anthony butting heads about whether or not Simon is good for Daphne, also "how dare you even think about dating my sister when you're my best friend". I need that so much.

Daphne - more fake dating scenarios to make sure the ton thinks they're really together, Simon fighting for Daphne's honor with Berbrooke, them raising little Augie and being wholesome parents.

Kate Sharma

Anthony - Anthony and Kate living their best life, maybe they're still in their honeymoon phase and are all lovey-dovey, also Kanthony babies all the way!

Daphne - Sisters-in-law bonding time, maybe Daphne comes to visit with Augie and Kate meets her nephew!

Edwina Sharma

Anthony - them going through with the marriage instead of Anthony ending up with Kate. I want to see how these two will develop because Edwina is absolutely starstruck and in love with him.

@taleofmuses

#taleofmuses #❛ 𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚'𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ❜ | out of character

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Text

The Other Woman

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Soooo. No one asked for this one and I have prompts in my inbox and a multi chapter Billy x OC story I'm working on. Yet… this happened. I was working on an assignment for uni and this popped into my head. Billy lives in my head rent free and I'm not even mad about it. Enjoy lmaooo

Warnings: cursing, slight angst but not really, lots of fluff (literally and figuratively). It's just a bunch of cute bullshit, don't mind me looool

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Your nails tapped the coffee cup as you sat outside the cafe deep in thought. There was only one thing on your mind. Billy was cheating on you. There was no other explanation for his behaviour the past week and the knowledge of what he'd done was eating away at you. It started a week ago. He'd slip out after work hours saying something came up. Sometimes he wouldn't even tell you where he was going and when you asked, he'd say 'work' as he avoided your gaze before slipping out. Billy couldn't lie to you, you knew him too well for that. You knew his tells and he didn't really lie to you. But you knew when he wouldn't look you in the eye that he wasn't being honest.

Then there was his phone. He'd be on it more than usual and it was distracting him. The night before, Frank had called him and you knew it was Frank because you'd seen the name popping up on his screen. You'd both been watching a movie on the sofa together as you tried to convince yourself that Billy wouldn't cheat on you. But when he excused himself to the bedroom, your curiosity burned. Why would he need to sneak off to speak to Frank?

So you'd crept over to where the door was open by a crack and held your breath as you listened.

"Yeah, I know…. I'll just tell her I need to work again… I don't think she knows… yeah, yeah, I know… I can't wait for you to meet her, man. She's perfect,"

Those words felt like a slap to the face and a punch to the gut all rolled into one. Billy was cheating on you. Billy was cheating on you and Frank knew about it. Frank who was one of your closest friends, the one who introduced you to Billy in the first place. You'd gone back to the sofa as you dwelled in your misery and betrayal and when Billy had come back out with a wide smile on his face you'd felt sick. But you couldn't bring yourself to ask him, to question him or tell him what you'd heard. You were scared of what he might say. Scared of what this all meant.

You and Billy had been together for almost two years now and you lived together. You knew of his past but never once had you felt insecure about being with him. He loved you, and you wholeheartedly believed he did. So this felt like it completely blindsided you and your head was all over the place.

That morning Billy was gone by the time you woke which was nothing new since he often let you sleep when he got up to work. But you'd come to the cafe by lunch because you were drowning in your thoughts back at home. The home you shared with him.

You blew out a breath, grabbing your cell from your pocket as you rang Anvil. You had a gut feeling and you wanted confirmation. His secretary picked up the phone and you sighed before asking something you dreaded the answer to.

"Hey, Annie. Is Billy there? I need to talk to him," you said softly. The older woman cleared her throat down the phone before speaking.

"He's not here, Y/N. He took the day off," she said warily. Well then. You thanked her quickly before hanging up, the lump lodged in your throat getting bigger.

How could it all have gone so wrong? You stood, tossing the half drank coffee in the trash as you made your way home with a broken heart. You hardly expected Billy to be sitting on the sofa when you got home. But there he was in all his glory. A burgundy sweater with his jeans and boots, hair slicked back like always. You felt like you were hanging on by a thread.

He smiled when he saw you, standing up and making his way over.

"I thought you had work," your cold tone stopped him in his tracks as he looked at you cautiously.

"I took the day, had some things I needed to do," he replied easily. Things he needed to do. More like someone he needed to do. Tense didn't even begin to cover how you were feeling.

"Look… there's someone here I want you to meet," Billy said hesitantly, glancing to the closed bedroom door. He really wouldn't just… The string of composure you were holding onto snapped.

"Is this some kind of joke?!" You yelled. He looked shocked, eyes wide and confused as he tilted his head.

"Uh… what?" He asked carefully.

"It's bad enough you're having an affair that apparently Frank knows all about but you've brought her here?! You want me to meet her?!" You were incredulous at his audacity. You wondered if he'd suffered a head injury a week ago or something.

Billy blinked at you with his dark eyes for a moment before he burst out laughing. But when he saw your tearful eyes glaring at him, his laughter died instantly.

"You… you think I'm cheatin' on you?" He asked slowly, like he was talking to a toddler. Your brows furrowed watching him warily as he walked over to you.

"You've been acting weird all week, Billy. And I heard you on the phone last night. I heard you talking to Frank," you muttered, hating how your voice wobbled.

Billy looked stricken at how upset you were and wrapped his arms around you and you melted into him despite yourself. He stroked your hair soothingly with one hand as the other rubbed your back.

"I'm not steppin' out on you, Y/N. I'd never do that," he sighed. He moved away, cradling your cheeks as his obsidian gaze looked over your face like he was searching for the answers of the universe.

"Not gonna lie, I'm a little offended by your lack of faith, but I have been actin' weird so I'll let it slide," he murmured with a soft smile.

"But then… what was that all about?" You asked, deflating a bit as he wiped away the couple of tears that had fallen. He leaned in and kissed you softly, one of the rare tender kisses he'd give you if you were upset. You were incredibly confused and maybe also felt a little guilty that your mind went there.

When he pulled away, he shot you a grin, looking almost like a kid on Christmas which only furthered your confusion.

"Wait here," he beamed, dashing off to the bedroom. You really felt like you'd been transported to another dimension where nothing made sense. But then Billy came back out with what you could only describe as a living, breathing, real life Pokemon in his arms. It was a Pomeranian puppy that just looked like a cloud with two shiny back eyes peeking out.

You made a noise that you couldn't even describe. A mix of a whine and a coo that people often reserved for cute animals and babies as if they couldn't help themselves. Your feet took you over to where Billy was grinning at you and the ball of fluff was nibbling his hand.

"Billy…" your voice was still a little high, a little pout on your face as you reached out and stroked the fluffy fur on the puppy.

"Meet Cotton Ball. Cotton Ball, meet your mom," he smirked, grabbing a tiny paw and making it wave at you. It was something to behold seeing Billy like this and you almost melted right into a puddle.

"Wait so… this is the other woman?" You asked with a snort, feeling so utterly stupid for how your mind went there. Billy rolled his eyes with a laugh as he handed over the bundle of cloud to you.

"Do you like her?" He asked hesitantly, looking almost unsure as he glanced from the puppy to you.

"I love her. Thank you, Billy," you murmured, cuddling the tiny puppy closer to you.

"I uh… I know that you said you wanted a dog," he started, his shoulder rolling a little.

"Which you shot down immediately," you cut in, raising a brow at him. He chuckled, rubbing his beard a little with a nod.

"I know. But… I saw how disappointed you were and I decided I never wanted to see that look on your face again. Especially not 'cause of me. She hadn't been fully vaccinated and stuff so I've been waitin' to bring her home. Been to see her a few times to get her used to me," he shrugged, looking almost bashful which was a strange look for him. It was cute.

"I love her. And I love you," you smiled wide at him. His insecurities seemed to wash away at your bright smile and he returned it, leaning over to kiss your forehead.

"I love you too. Come here, lemme show you somethin','' he took your free hand and led you to the bedroom. On the floor next to your bed was what looked like a queen bed shrunk down. It was a dog bed but a fancy one and the cozy sheets looked expensive too. There was also a basket filled to the brim with dog toys. You looked at him incredulously with a laugh.

"And here I was thinking you weren't a dog person and you're spoiling her already," you teased. He chuckled, a slight pink tint to his face you couldn't remember ever witnessing as he bit his lip and smiled at you.

"Yeah well… my girls gotta have the best. And… I mighta got attached to her," he shrugged easily.

"Billy Russo has a heart after all. Who knew?" You snorted. He gripped your jaw gently, giving your lips a firm peck before smirking down at you.

"Don't tell a soul or I'll have to kill you. I got a rep to keep," he smirked devilishly. You snorted again, shaking your head as you took the now sleeping puppy to her lavish bed and set her down.

When you walked back over to Billy, you wrapped your arms around his middle and he responded in kind and held you close.

"I can't believe you thought I'd cheat on you," he murmured, nuzzling your hair. You felt your cheeks heat up as you moved away and looked up at him.

"I know. I'm sorry, I just… you'd been acting weird and then the phone call, I didn't know what to think," you said softly. He frowned a little, tucking some of your hair behind your ear before resting a hand on your jaw.

"You know I love you, right?" He asked with a furrowed brow.

"I know. Honestly… I've never questioned it. I've never felt like that before. My mind just ran away with itself," you felt bad now and really fucking stupid but he had been acting weird. How were you to know that he was secretly procuring you the cutest puppy to exist?

He kissed your forehead softly, lips lingering a moment before he cupped your cheeks, tilting your head to look up at him. His dark eyes were full of many emotions and you got lost in them.

"You're the only one I want. Ever since I met you, I never wanted anyone else. I ain't ever felt like this before but all I know is… I'm yours. I love you, Y/N. There'll never be anyone else," he murmured sincerely. You couldn't help the dopey smile on your face as you leaned up and captured his lips in a soft kiss.

"I love you too, Billy. But… I will have to share you now with Cotton Ball," you teased against his lips. He chuckled, nipping at your bottom lip.

"You'll always be my best girl," he grinned, rubbing his nose against yours.

One hand dropped to your neck, the other slinking around you and settling on your ass as he kissed you deeply. Just as you were really getting into it, he hissed, cursing and moving away as he lifted his foot. The foot that had tiny razor teeth latched onto it as the dog dangled off his toe. You couldn't help the bubble of laughter that came out of you as you pried the dog away from his foot.

"Feel like I might end up regrettin' this decision," he huffed, eyes narrowed at Cotton Ball who was now happily in your arms. He wasn't really mad though, his lips were slightly upturned as he reached out and rubbed the dogs tiny head.

"Awww. Is the big bad marine scared the lil doggy might bite his ass when he's having sex?" You mocked playfully.

Billy's mortified face had you in stitches. He looked like he'd not considered it until you said it and now he was glaring at the dog like she'd ready done it.

"We're gonna need some boundaries," he muttered to the dog as he pointed at her, then his piercing eyes turned to you and you bit your lip to stifle your laughter.

"And for the record, I am a big bad marine and I ain't scared of a fuckin' dog," he smirked with a raised brow. You rolled your eyes goodnaturedly as you turned, dog in hand, and left the room.

"Mhmm. Just wait until I tell Frank how you're scared of a ball of fluff. Or the guys from Anvil. Or maybe I'll tell them just how much you love her already," you grinned, laughing when he gripped your hips and dragged you so your back pressed against his front.

"What I tell you? You tell and I'll have to kill you. I don't wanna do that, I might just miss you," he murmured with a smile as he nuzzled your neck.

"Russo's going soooft!" You teased with a laugh, squealing when his hands dug into your sides to tickle you.

Honestly, you never really thought Billy would be a dog person. But you never thought he'd be the type to live with someone and here you were. You never thought he'd be the type to use the L word yet he did with you. He was full of surprises and this was way better than you anticipated. You never expected the other woman to be so cute.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher #billy russo imagine

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bluebellss1 · 3 years

Text

[SPOILER WARNING FOR THE INVISIBLE LIFE OF ADDIE LARUE]

I really enjoyed the book and thought it was written very well, and I adored Luc and his dynamic with Addie. But I can’t help but be a little bit confused about why the author decided to end the book like that, especially since it’s supposed to be a stand-alone.

You’d think a satisfying end to Addie’s personal arc would be her at peace at being remembered, then taking Luc’s hand and disappearing with him into the night (or something along those lines). But instead, Addie informs us of her new vendetta against him and how she’s going to spend the rest of eternity trying to make him hate her so her soul goes free and the book ends RIGHT THERE. We’re not getting a sequel so why would you end the book with a curveball like that? That’s an entirely new plot-thread that was literally introduced on the last 2 pages.

She says that she’s going to prove that Luc is “incapable of love”, and then 2 sentences later she says that she’s going to “break his heart.” WHICH ONE IS IT, ADDIE? Those statements are contradictory as hell if she thinks he has no heart to break. I think the author made the ending for them unanswered and up-to-interpretation so that readers could interpret it however they wanted but idk, I was kind of rooting for them to find a sort of peace in each other as a couple which doesn’t seem to happen at the end of the book.

The book beats us over the head with the metaphor that Addie’s freckles are a ‘constellation of stars’ across her face. I’ve seen a lot of people complain that the recurring metaphor was meaningless and superficial, but while reading the book I realised that Luc is literal DARKNESS and the NIGHT. His true form is just a yawning, terrifying empty void of black. And Addie is constantly compared to stars and one artist painted a portrait of stars to represent her. This motif is supposed to mean that Addie is the constellation of stars that both foil and complete Luc’s empty, dark night, that she’s the one who brings light to his existence. How am I not supposed to ship Addie x Luc when the book drills the star motif into our heads like that! I refuse to believe that the man who represents the night sky and tells the woman who represents the stars that he loves her didn’t genuinely mean it.

My personal interpretation is that they’ll play some more cat-and-mouse games through the centuries but ultimately will come together one day. I do believe Luc loves Addie, though she believes he doesn’t love her because you have to be willing to let someone go if you love them. Luc’s love may not be pure and selfless, but I do believe it is love.

He’s a dark entity, a monster of the night that is thousands/millions of years old. His love is different and exists with him on a different scale of feeling than that of a normal human. He’s also likely horrifically starved and greedy for true affection. Addie is probably the only true companion he’s had in forever. Remember how angry and defensive he became when she claimed that they were alike and both lonely? And then decades later he concedes that she may have been right. It’s because he’s been in denial about being lonely for his entire existence, but Addie challenges him on that and has him realise that there may be something more to his existence than taking souls.

He tells her that he saw the elephant in Paris and how it reminded him of one of their earliest conversations. Seeing an elephant in Paris would be nothing to an immortal like him, but it shows that Addie has had an effect on him and his outlook in life, given some meaning to a mundane thing that he otherwise would not have cared about. Addie is living in his mind RENT-FREE at this point. Luc also shows compassion for her in many vital moments, like saving her from the war camp and from the streets during the revolution, later on even helping her with smaller things like escaping the ticket inspector.

These acts of kindness do not erase his bad deeds, but they do show him to be a morally grey character who has grown to care for Addie’s wellbeing and safety. It would have been in his best interests to let her get tortured so she’d give up her immortality earlier, but he still saved her. She’s the only being in the world who has seen his true form, she accepts him for who and what he is. She has seen him when he was cruel and when he was merciful, she gave him a name and a face that he has kept as his chosen form for 300 years (HE EVEN USED THAT FORM FOR HENRY’S DEAL!)

You can’t tell me Luc didn’t have any kind of special attachment or affection for Addie. The fact that he answers to the name she gave him, that he has chosen to wear the face of the imaginary lover that Addie carefully sketched and dreamed of over and over in her youth.

Addie accuses him of wearing the face of her imaginary lover because he is trying to manipulate and taunt her (which may have been true at the start), but that doesn’t explain why he would wear it to see Henry too, and the countless other humans he has probably dealt with in the past 300 years. It’s almost like he and Addie both gave and took from each other, that Addie gave him a name, face and human connection—that she took this old god, a void of darkness that swallows souls, and made it care for her enough to make it try to be a man for her.

I know it’s a stand-alone novel but I would love something along the lines of a short spin-off full of snapshots about Addie and Luc post-ending (like How The King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories). An epilogue of sorts to tie up loose ends and give us some closure, see what Addie and Luc end up as, to let us see Addie find her peace and be truly happy. I feel like the author tried so hard to make a statement that Addie is a strong independent woman who is still fighting that we didn’t actually get to see her be happy.

Her final moments of the book, where she should be feeling content and at peace about everyone knowing her story, and she should be shown getting ready to move on with her life and leave behind her fixation of being remembered. But it gets tainted by this sudden spike of revenge and malice that ends the story on a negative note and ends up feeling kind of sad tbh.....

#the invisible life of addie larue #addie x luc #luc x addie #addie larue #tiloal #meta

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thefact0rygirl · 3 years

Text

ROUGH BOY, SWEET WORDS | Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: praise kink, affirmation play (is that a thing?), tied up/restrained hands, mention of face sitting, grinding, teasing, penetrative sex (p in v), cowgirl, creampie, alluding to a breeding kink, cockwarming, soft!din

Summary: Din just wants to be held and whispered words of affirmation. He just doesn’t know it.

{masterlist} {cross-posted on ao3}

Din Djarin has no qualms praising you and showering you with affection, but struggles when you return that same affection.

And "struggles” is putting it lightly.

He is a Mandalorian, a warrior. Being treated like porcelain is the exact opposite of what has been ingrained into him.

Din is also your partner, your riduur. It has taken him so long to become comfortable with the idea that someone as morally grey as him could be likened to a rare stone in another person’s eyes. Over time, he has let down his walls to bathe in your warmth and affection, but there are still moments when he shies away from it.

Like now.

Since reuniting Grogu with the Jedi, Din has grown wary of your compassion and sincerity. It feels alienating to him, like it’s wrong for him to accept love when your little clan is torn apart. With your ad’ika gone and your lives in shambles, Din slowly returns to the one stability he knows all too well: roughness.

Rough bounties, rough words, rough hands.

Reuniting with his old persona as the big, bad bounty hunter, he finds shallow solace in insults and the camouflage his beskar provides. It’s what he knows best.

Even sex is rough with Din manhandling you in place as he fucks his frustrations out onto you. Not that you don’t enjoy it, oh no. Not at all. Rough Din hits different, but you're worried about him. He is in a state of perpetual tension, shying away whenever you go for something gentler. It’s hard to miss the way he stiffens whenever you try to adore him with genuine flattery.

It’s then in a rented room on Nevarro that you decide to try something different to make him feel your love. You know he is expecting something kinky when you use your old blindfold to tie his hands to the bedpost. You don’t confirm or deny his assumptions either, opting instead to straddle his head between your thighs, riding his face until he is drenched in your release.

Sliding down his body, you hover over his hips until your pussy is inches away from his throbbing cock. You coo his name like it’s a melody until he looks at you. The room is dim, save for a small lamp in the corner, but to Din, you look like the sun itself, sweat shimmering off your body like the finest silk.

With a coy smile, you ignite his world when you lower your hips until his cock is nestled against your heat. He gasps when he feels your pussy pulsing against his shaft, desire ripping through his veins as his nerves crackle in pleasure.

Din’s hands twitch against the restraining cloth that keeps him mounted to the bedpost. He could easily break through the flimsy material, you both know that. All it takes is a flick of his wrists for the fabric to tear before he does the same to you.

But he doesn’t.

He stays put, watching as you gyrate against him.

The restraints were figurative, anyway, something you wanted to try and he was more than happy to oblige if it meant seeing you in such a salacious position. So luxurious, so spoiled with your head thrown back as you use his body for your pleasure.

Tugging on your nipples, you pant out, “Stars, I love your cock.”

You start small with your praise, a simple comment he’s heard countless of times before. Something to add that extra spark to your rocking hips, but not enough to scare him.

You don’t expect him to respond, and your guess is correct. Din groans in response, letting the comment roll off of him without a second thought. Your mouth is open in an ‘o’ and all he can imagine is shoving his cock down your throat.

“Yeah? My pretty baby wants her pussy stuffed?”

A low gasp escapes you when Din’s thighs twitch under you, the sudden movement causing the head of his cock to catch against your clit.

Biting your lip, you nod, “I love your body. You’re so big, so strong.”

Now that gets a reaction out of him. His brain stutters for a moment as every part of him pauses. His body stiffens under you, but doesn’t reply.

Din tries to reason with himself as each drag of your hips propels him farther in arousal. You don’t know what you’re saying. He doesn’t even know if you really did say…that. Your pussy is throbbing so hard against him he wonders if this is actually a wet dream. Probably best to just avoid it all together.

Yeah, just don’t say anything.

But then you lower yourself until your hard nipples are pressing into his scarred chest. Nuzzling your face over his heart, words continue to spill from your mouth, “I love your scars. I know you hate them, but I adore them. They mean you fought and survived.”

Without his helmet, Din is an open book. You see it when he averts his eyes to the ceiling, his tan skin flushing to a rosy brown. You could practically hear his mind puttering, the gears working overtime, to rationalize your words as if they were some riddle.

Because why else would his riduur see anything but adoration and love for him? Right?

Before he can fall further into his unease, your finger tips rub light circles around his nipples as you pucker your lips to assemble a line of kisses. Starting at his sternum you kiss up his neck, over his Adam’s apple, and stopping to lick up your cum that soaks his chin.

Din wilts from your touch. Your skin is so soft, your kisses so delicate, he whimpers as he feel your hands move to cradle his head. He just wants to feel you, run his rough hands against your silk skin, revel in your softness and forget about the nonsense spewing from your mouth. The bedpost squeaks as he tugs against the cloth.

Feeling your thumb resting at the corner of his mouth, he turns until he places a kiss against the finger pad, as if trying to push away his uneasiness.

Feeling your breath on the shell of his ear, you confess quietly, “You’re so much stronger than you think and you amaze me, Din.”

Embarrassment and confusion blend together until they form a strangled protest in his chest, working its way up his throat. He should be the one praising you, not you praising him.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks, pushing his face into your hand in an attempt to hide the blooming red tint on his cheeks.

“Doing what?” Your hips continue to rock in a steady pace.

“The compliments.” He voice grits out like it’s dragging across sandpaper.

“Do you want me to stop?”

He lets out a breath, “I…” He stops, not answering the question.

Din shies away from the praise instinctively, having trouble reconciling his self-esteem with the way the remarks make his cock twitch. He feels warm and tingly, draped under a pleasant haze of affection, but a voice in the back of his head is telling him he doesn’t deserve it.

But he wants to. He wants to so fucking bad. After everything that has happened, he wants to feel okay. He wants to hear words of affirmation from one of the only beings in this forsaken galaxy that matters.

You.

He wants to hear your voice, even if he isn’t ready to admit it. So, he shuts his eyes, his hips involuntarily twitching as you continue to grind against him. You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

Weaving your hands in his hair, you tug on the curly brown mess at the nape of his neck. You bury your nose against his neck, inhaling his comforting blend of musk, soap, and metal.

“I love your smell.”

Your tongue drags along the protruding vein on his neck, following it down to the dip between his neck and shoulder.

“And the way you taste.”

Din calls out your name in an attempt to fight off the warmth of your words, but his throat betrays him, constricting to keep his protests down.

“And, stars, the sounds you make,” You moan, sucking tiny bruises into his flesh. “Those little whines when you come. I think about those when you’re gone.”

You lift your head so your lips ghost over his. You’re so close and your words are making his stomach churn as blood rushes to his weeping member.

There’s something in the way you keep grinding against him paired with your sweet words that reminds him of his better self. The one that traveled all across the galaxy, risked his life, all to reunite a little, green boy with his people. He wants to drink your words like a strong wine and enjoy feeling of intoxication.

He lifts his head up to attempt to kiss you, but you sit you up before he can. With your hands letting go of his hair, Din trashes his head to the side at the miss. You don’t miss the way his tenses in anticipation.

“Cyare,” He insists, rosy cheeks turning bright red.

“My strong and beautiful riduur.”

“Okay, stop.” Din pants, arms pushing forward to break free.

You don’t miss the sound of breaking threads and you shove his chest with enough force to push him back into the mattress.

“No,” You growl, eyes narrowing at him.

Eyes widening in disbelief, he chokes out, “Fucking tease.”

“I just can’t enough of you.” You move your arms behind you, hands holding onto his thick thighs as you arch your back and rut faster against him.

“But you know what’s my favorite?”

You don’t wait for an answer, you weren’t expecting one. You just keep rocking against him, coating him in your wetness until he’s soaked, your juices dripping down to his balls.

“When you cum inside me. I love it when you drip from me. Stars — feeling your seed filling me, I feel so close to you.”

“Stop,” Hr grunts your name. “Just, f-fuck—S-stop. Before I cum.”

Din hisses for the split second that cool air hits his cock before it’s enveloped again in warmth. Smirking down at him, you hold him tightly in your hand as you lower yourself down, wincing at the familiar stretch as he fills you.

Finally feeling your pulsing cunt consume him, Din lets out a surprise grunt, his hips jumping up, and you have to give him a second to get under control.

“Fuck, cyare,” He whispers, struggling not to melt back into the bed as you grip him like a silk glove, your inner muscles flexing around his intruding length.

Not wasting a second, you start swaying immediately. You’re both too desperate to go slow anymore, you’ve been at this for ages now. Din leans his head back, tilting his chin to take in the breathtaking sight of you, blissed out and lost in the growing pleasure between your legs. Your body rolls with your movements as you bounce on his cock, your breasts jiggling from the force of your hips. Din can’t help but moan at the thought that his tattered body could bring you so much bliss.

Din is close to his own release, his orgasm carrying him along the edge of climax. And then you start up again with saccharine words.

“Feel how wet I am, Din?”

“That’s all you, riduur. Only you can do that.”

Cracking your eyes open, you look down to see Din’s skin colored red in embarrassment. He can only nod, eyes screwing shut as he tries to gain control of himself. He is so close after being teased for so long. He jerks his hips upward, impatient.

You want to whisper more praise at him. You don’t want to stop until he feels your love, but for now you stop. Din is still hiding, breathing heavily as his hips move in involuntary motions, hard cock throbbing desperately inside of you.

Leaning down to nip at his ear, you listen to his breath shake, as you bounce on his lap. His cock is easily sliding in and out of you from how wet you are. You’re soaked.

“Din,” You call, kissing the side of his mouth. “D—Din. Look at me.”

He groans, but follows your request. His pupils are blown out from need and a haze of conflict clouds his brown irises. For all the teasing and mixed emotions your words bring him, he craves them.

He craves you.

Your loving eyes, your soft whispers, the purple patches you paint on his neck — they’re the things that show him he is in your thoughts. He watches your eyes as you look at him like he has the stars in his hands. You are just as consumed in him as he is of you. If he captivates you, then he will happily be your captive.

In that moment, all he wants is to touch you. Add a physical stability to your words. He wants to roll between the vowels, let the words sear into his skin like another one of his scars.

“What is it, Din?”

He shudders, pushing his chest up against yours, desperate for the skin to skin contact. “I—I want…Keep talking, but just let me — L-Let me touch you.”

Nodding, you move to the bedpost, but Din is faster. He pushes forward, tearing your old blindfold to shreds while pushing his upper half up until he is sitting up. His hands hold your back to steady you from the sudden movement and to keep you still impaled on his cock.

With you cradled in his arms, his lips crash down to yours. It’s messy, but steeped in a passion that ignites the purest and most vulnerable versions of yourselves. It’s between your moving tongues that there is a promise of realness that Din embraces, allowing your affirmations to crack his defenses.

Pulling away, he sees love in your eyes, and when you speak, he welcomes the burning on his cheeks, rolling around in honeyed words.

“I love you. You’re so strong, so beautiful.”

You sit up straighter, bouncing in Din’s lap. You dig your heels into the bedspread to gain momentum, but you had been at this for an hour, riding his thigh, tying him up, and your movements get jerky and unsteady as the sensation grows more pleasurable.

“I love you, too,” Din gasps, dropping his head until he is hunched into you. You’re wrapped around him, his protective cocoon, as his breath tattoos Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum into your skin.

“D—Din! Oh, stars,” You babble into his hair. “So close…”

He growls at the announcement, pulling away from you as he propels himself forward to push you into the bed. You’re now under him, your legs instinctively locked around his waist.

You’re right where he wants you. You’ve had your fun, now it’s his turn. Holding himself up, he slams back inside your tight pussy.

You cry out, your body seizing and shaking and you struggle to keep your eyes open so you can watch Din’s reaction.

His lips are bruised and red, hanging open on sounds of pleasures and ragged inhales. His eyelashes fan out over his flushed cheeks and his hair is slick and mussed on the top of his head.

“F—Fuck, how did I deserve this?” Din cracks, watching you trapped under him. He’s driving his hips against yours, your body thrusting up from the force of his snapping hips. He may be the one on top, but you are in control. With your little whines and adoring eyes, you’re squeezing his heart and setting his lungs is on fire.

Chanting his name like a prayer, he buries his face in your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as he loses control. There is no rhythm and rhyme to it, he just fucks you deeper and harder. It’s too easy for him to lose himself to you, in you.

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes screwing shut as he feels his length enter you, going deeper with each thrust.

“You’re lovely. Love you so much,” You tell him and Din sobs, clutching at you tighter to him.

“Riduur, my riduur.”

Your heart skips. Not from his words, but the way his voice shakes with the first vowel before entirely shattering my the end. It’s the little whines that escape him as he fucks you harder into the mattress, his need for you spilling into something so powerful he can’t help but moan.

As Din’s movements become more frantic, you lodge a hand between your bodies and find your clit, rubbing sloppy circles until you moan. The growing arousal ignites your core, ripping through your body as your walls clench around him. Your muscles shake as the wetness between your legs pools, splashing against Din’s groin as you ride out your peak.

“G-good girl, milk my cock,” Din whispers, chasing his own release.

His own orgasm takes him by surprise. He can feeling it building, but he doesn’t expect it when his balls draw up and his cock throbs, hot liquid spilling inside of you.

It’s intense — more intense than it has any right to be.

Moaning, he paints your walls white. He continues thrusting through his orgasm, a meager attempt to push his seed deeper inside of you. Maybe even deep enough to reach your womb…

You move against each other, involuntary, shallow shivers as your orgasms drag out, pulling pleasure from ever nerve inside of you.

“You’re beautiful.” You say, swallowing precarious gulps of air.

You drop your legs from his waist, releasing at least part of him from your hold. But he doesn’t move, staying lodged between you as he softens.

Din lets out a dry chuckle, “You’re going to have to wait for round two.”

“I mean it, Din,” You say so much conviction, he is unsure of what to say.

He leans towards you, pressing his lips against yours in soft kiss. You smile gently at the connection and lay back, pulling Din to follow you as he remains inside of you. He lays his head against your chest, letting your erratic heartbeat lull him in a peaceful state.

He whispers, “I know.”

mando’a translations

Riduur - spouse, partner, husband, wife

Ad’ika - little one, son or daughter at any age

Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum - I love you (literally, “I know you forever.”)

Cyare - beloved

taglist: @thundersheild @itsjammin @justanotherblonde23 @ladyjenny19 @tibbietibbs @zombiexbody @stardust-galaxies @tenderclio @maulpunk @kat-r-in @tibbietibbs

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yournameyn · 3 years

Text

Feeling Deeply

Genre: Fluff so much fluff. Arranged Marriage fic.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

A/N: Aaaaaa this is the first fic I'm posting ever ever. It's basically a way to follow the red thread of my desires. OC is named Brishti. She's Indian. She's Bengali & curvy & an introvert. This whole fic is 90% going to be a slow burn fluff fic about two introvert nerds getting to know each other. Seriously there's like hardly any real angst, maybe slight angst about okay when are these two going to bang - if you look very carefully but basically its just slooooow fluuuufff. Hopefully you all like it. Please let me know what you think. Current Chapter: This one is loooong. Remember this is all happening in the 1960s. OC & Namjoon are both really well off first gen immigrants. In this chapter we have our couple coming closer together - talking about some issues they've both had in their lives. Also this is the chapter where you'll get to know one of my favourite Namjoon songs and like why the OC is named what she's named. Also just a reminder because im a bit paranoid - Rim Jhim (referred to as Rim) is our OC Brishti. Its a pet name that's introduced in this chapter. And Namjoon being the wordsmith that he is makes it shorter, with the korean meaning of the word.

Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface-ish Chapter 1

Chapter 2

And so it went for the next few days, the two of them quietly discovering each other. They were finding out the normal, casual, small things - how he didn’t like mint chocolate, how she loved bitter black coffee. Since both of them worked, they decided to split the chores at home. It worked out great because Namjoon liked to sweep & Brishti loved to do the dishes. They both struggled to cook but they decided to learn how to cook each other’s cuisines. So she was learning how to make kimchi (the green onion one) & he was learning how to prepare daal (the yellow one). They split the rent & decided to create a separate bank account for their savings. Talking about money increased warmth because they discovered that neither valued it excessively.

Slowly, they began talking about things a little more intimate. Meanings of names were revealed. She was impressed that his name meant genius. And he loved that hers meant rain. Pet names were introduced. He called her Rim - an even shorter version of her daak naam Rim Jhim. He told her to call him Joon. She looked away, smiling, then - silently telling him they’re not there yet. What he didn’t tell her was that he was already making up a fairytale about Joon, the genius & Rim, the brilliant jade that makes him so.

They spoke about books the most. Between them, they had half the globe's literature covered. She had read Indian authors & Russian & Spanish ones. He loved Korean authors, Japanese literature & all the Greek Classics. He geeked out about philosophy & poetry while she nerded over nature writing & music. They spoke about how they might take a look at other European writers & musicians together. To that end, Namjoon brought home a book of love poems by Rilke.

He hadn’t told her that he wrote poetry too. He hadn’t mentioned anything because it seemed like an indulgence of the past, poetry. But that night everything changed. After a late dinner, Brishti had asked to read aloud from the book he’d brought. As she read ‘To Music’, Namjoon saw tears float in her eyes. Secretly, something inside him had wept too. And just like that, he knew he would begin writing soon.

Each week the two watched late shows of classic hollywood musicals in a nearby theatre because they’d decided against a tv in their home - opting, instead, for a record player. Meeting for a movie each of the two Fridays they’d spent together so far was an experience both looked forward to - not only for the movie. In the darkness of the movie theatre, they experienced the first glimpses of intimacy. Soft smiles, whispering, silent glances, hands caressing each other. He loved how she laughed with abandon. She loved that he would tear up during the emotional scenes.

Her smile was getting wider, warmer toward him, Namjoon noted everyday. He’d been sleeping separately since their wedding night because he wanted her to feel safe. He was mostly okay with that except if he thought about it… If he thought about a time when he would get to touch her - Namjoon almost felt dizzy with feelings.

This happened the most when he saw her read by the window, he ached to touch her. That was her - Brishti - that was who she was at her core. Reading, running her fingers through her short hair, staring out the window, thinking, looking at clouds & then going back to reading. She was still quiet, but less so. She spoke about the rain and the trees and when she was happiest, he learned, when she really trusted that no one was going to judge her, she spoke about the moon. It had happened twice in the last few days.

He couldn’t stop looking at her. As though that needed reasoning, he thought about it at the office too. It wasn’t the only answer he could come up with but Namjoon had never seen a body like hers. She didn’t seem brittle or delicate, the way most women looked - or were “supposed to look”. She didn’t care what a body is supposed to look like, at least, it seemed that way to him. Brishti’s curves were not subtle. She was short and while almost everyone was shorter than him, Brishti was just… sexily so. She’d do these things… seemingly normal, everyday things but they would quickly, embarrassingly, inspire an arousal in him. Like, that thing she did, when she stretched after waking up or even if she stretched her arms or her neck… for some reason that turned him on so much, he’d have to hide… or excuse himself. His breath hitched, everytime he thought about how he hadn’t still actually seen her body.

Brishti, too, enjoyed looking at him from afar. Sharing, creating a living space with a man was never something she thought she would enjoy. They had exchanged the basic stories of how they had reached each other.

Namjoon had said, “I’d met a couple of women… girls… but they just seemed either plastic or porcelain… you know? I mean, not all of them could have been that but that's how they… presented themselves? You… I saw your photos in a pile that the matchmaker labelled ‘rubbish’”

“What?!”

“Yeah… I’m sorry but it’s actually a compliment to be labelled ‘bad’ by a matchmaker. That’s why I was looking in that pile in the first place… when I heard you wanted to keep working… Honestly I was so relieved...”

She smiled, “At least you got a look at me… I didn’t even know what you looked like till we met. I had no choice at all. A boy had agreed to marry me - despite… me… so that was the end of it. That was the bargain with my brother… otherwise I wouldn’t have been allowed to work either.”

“Wow… I’m so sorry, Rim. That’s really… really unfair.”

“Hmm yeah… I just figured if I can keep earning & the man turns out to be wrong, at least I can leave.”

“That’s… thanks for not leaving...”

Brishti smiled, “I got lucky...”

Namjoon understood, then, that Brishti might be an introvert but that did not mean she was shy. She made him blush & laugh. She made him speak without inhibition. The more time he spent with her, his feelings poured out.

“Thanks… It’s been really nice to share this home with you. Just to have you to talk to… My life was not going that great...” he said.

Brishti nodded, even though she already knew this. Whatever he said, strangely, she could see a deeper melancholy behind it. They spoke about being strangers in a strange country. She told him how she had to fight at the library for Tagore to be considered classic literature. How she was slowly but surely, being accepted in the oddball group that ran the library. She was not the only non-english person there, so things were easier for her. Besides, true readers had always been more accepting of the different.

Something made her regret sharing her happiness about this because his struggle in this foreign land was far more intense… she could sense pain behind the words he used. Namjoon did not enjoy his job the way she did. He worked overtime most days and came home bone-tired. Kim Namjoon was in many ratraces at the same time - races Brishti felt he didn’t want to participate at all. Being a lawyer, being an asian - the ‘model minority’, being a slightly well-off Korean in a sea of white men, in a sea of less fortunate asians who were being treated much worse than him. Trying to create a name, an identity of his own was wearing him out... chipping away at his soul.

Brishti sometimes saw him and saw a great banyan cutting itself down, trying to be a shrub just to fit in. When she asked him how his day was, he always smiled. It was real, the smile and yet it couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes. Something that was beginning to bother Brishti more and more, these days. He... had begun to matter more and more these days.

Now, about two weeks into their marriage, she was experiencing butterflies about the smallest things; Things like watching him sleep on the fold out, bringing him coffee in the morning. She felt a pull deep inside her take over when he would come out of the shower in the bathrobe, skin glistening from the shower & musky man-scents launching her body in a fantastical arousal & her mind in overdrive. Somedays, Brishti even went for a shower after he’d been, just so she could soak in his essence & bathe in a trance she had never felt before.

On their third weekend together, Namjoon didn’t have to go to work the whole weekend. He’d spoken to his superior at the firm to let him have weekends free - after all, he was married now. Post lunch that Saturday, Brishti and he kept unpacking, organising while talking (well, later on, it was just coffee & talking) into the early hours of Sunday. They spoke about things they loved, people they had loved. About fictional crushes and real ones. Both of them spoke about their past relationships. Something Brishti was delighted about - especially since Namjoon told her he was not the type to hold someone’s past against them.

Brishti couldn’t believe it when Namjoon had correctly guessed, “It was the photographer, right?”

“What-?! How- Where- How did you…?” Brishti couldn’t even form a question.

“Your photos, at the matchmakers… something was different. All the other pictures women give out for arranged matches seem... fake. Yours were… real… private. You looked comfortable… looked like you were being teased...” What he didn’t say was how much it seemed in those pictures like she was with someone she truly liked… maybe even loved.

Sat on the ground opposite Namjoon, Brishti kept her gaze on him. It unnerved Namjoon that she could really see him. She unnerved him further when she said, “You should say what you aren’t saying… or… asking?”

“Did you love him?��

“Not really… it was just... a different kind of friendship… ended almost as soon as it began. But I- I don’t regret it. It wasn’t the kind of love-” she trailed off. She looked away, smiling but trying to hide it. The same way she had in the photograph.

He pressed further just to tease her “Kind of love...?” Namjoon was intrigued because she was blushing now & he wanted to plant a thousand pecks on her. Instead he said, “So you can just… stop what you were saying? Mmm. Okay. I see.”

She looked at him then, “I’m feeling… a lot… of… different things these days. Especially because of a couple of dimples...”

Just like that, she turned the tables & his dimples appeared. He blushed, “Yeah… same. I mean… you don’t have dimples but I’ve-”

She nodded to let him know she understood. And then asked, “Uhm... Have you… had sex?”

Namjoon bit his lip, “Yeah… yes. I... had a girlfriend in law school. It… uh… wasn’t serious… for her.”

Brishti looked away nodding, as if stopping herself from saying something.

He looked at her… knowing what she probably wanted to say. He wanted to hug her but he only said, “It doesn’t matter, does it? For me it doesn’t. Doesn’t matter if you’ve had sex too… I know how people can be about virginity… I- honestly… it's just another way to control people.”

She looked at him with a mixture of emotions. She took a minute to compose herself & then said, “I’ve never met a man like you… and it's a little confusing and annoying… Not that you are annoying… not at all. It’s just the world is annoying because this is how low the standard is for a man. A man accepting that the woman has a past makes him… forward…? But of course the woman has to… because, well, he’s a man and he has needs. We’re all told that… Shirley... who works with me… she knows it too. Women just aren’t supposed to talk about their pasts. All women.”

She paused & got flustered further because of how dedicatedly Namjoon had been listening. It really seemed as if he was taking notes. The serious expression on his face, it made Brishti's ears feel hot. Almost as a distraction, she went on -

“It's crazy but that seems to be the only thing THE WHOLE WORLD has agreed on - they can’t agree on one way to make bread but they all agreed that women are inferior. It’s such a basic thing to just let me work… because I want to… but it's annoying that it makes me feel lucky. My best friend had to go through hell because she thought she could trust her husband with the truth about her past… so it makes me feel lucky that… you won’t…”

Namjoon could see the pain in her words. Maybe that’s how she could always sense the pain in his words, he thought.

After a calming silence passed over them, he spoke - “I won’t. I don’t really know what it’s like for a woman. And… maybe you won’t like to hear this, but… I was the same, Rim... I was the man my society had trained me to be. Everything changed when I came here. When, for the first time in my life, I understood what it’s like to be treated inferior. Since then, I just… I cannot be the cause of a feeling like that within anyone... So… you’re right. I’m not doing anything everyone shouldn’t already do. All of this should be normal. Expected. Hopefully the world learns a bit faster…”

Brishti smiled at Namjoon. She chuckled when tears pooled up in her eyes. He instinctively reached out for her & placed a hand on her leg, just below her knee. A jolt went through Brishti and she looked surprised. He did too. Namjoon retracted his hand immediately & looked away, blushing. That’s when Brishti laughed out loud. She stood up. And asked him to stand up, silently.

He did. It always made Brishti’s heart flutter just how gorgeous and tall he was. Someday, she would tell him. Someday, she would show him. For now, she couldn’t help feeling bashful as she asked, “Can I get a hug, Joon?”

This was the first time she’d used the pet name that he’d asked her to call him by. This was what his family called him. And her using this name assured Namjoon of just that - she was becoming family. Her question had made his heart flip. He moved without really thinking, because this is what his body had wanted since the day he saw her. He pulled her up in his arms. He felt like he was melting. She was soft. Warm. Beautiful. And in his arms.

Brishti gasped a little when Namjoon had scooped her up in his arms. She was on her toes, literally & figuratively. She held onto him, less as a hug & more as support… at first. Then, she felt his arms… the strong arms that she had been ogling at, around her. It was as if a knot came undone, within her, suddenly. And in its place, the softest silk suddenly flowed through her body.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. The same essence that she’d been soaking in after he had showered, that she had been breathing in whenever he would pass by or reach past her. The essence that she had now become so hungry for that she had been secretly sleeping with the shirt he’d worn from the laundry basket. That essence was now all over her. Her chin turned up, resting on his shoulders, her cheeks touching his, her hands - on their own - reached the nape of his neck and began to play with his hair.

When she did that, Namjoon held her tighter, pressed her on to him. He felt her body react to his. One hand reaching her shoulder around her back, he moved the other closer to her waist, so his hands could fold over her curves. He could feel her breath hitch when he did that.

Brishti was revelling in the feeling of his hands, his fingers, feeling his fingertips press into her - that was a feeling she could never have imagined making her so... so... drunk. She was drunk. She ran her hands up and down his vast back, all the way up to his hair. All of a sudden she could feel herself overcome with emotion. Tears began pooling in her eyes again. And she said, before it was too late, she said, “Thank you, Joon, for everything… thank you.”

When he heard the tremble in her voice, Namjoon pulled away, just so he could see her. Brishti quickly retracted too - to wipe off her tears, trying to laugh off the silliness, apologising. Namjoon replied, “It’s okay… I understand… I… Thank you, Rim. I hope you… you know what I mean...” What he wanted to say, what he hoped she understood was that she was what was helping him come alive. But being unable to, Namjoon knew someday he would. Someday soon.

Brishti nodded to say she understood. Namjoon tried to lighten the atmosphere, saying, “You’re not… just anyone, you know? So… maybe you should tell me something I could do which is… not just basic decency, but something that can be considered truly feminist, you know. I’d love to do that for you.”

Brishti smiled and nodded. She suddenly felt tired & almost of its own accord, her body stretched into a yawn. She said, “I’ll think of something. We- I should go now… Do you want- anything?...” Brishti was delighted about how drunk she had gotten from one hug. It was exciting that she knew she’d be sleeping with the sweater he had tossed in the laundry basket tonight. She decided to take a bit more time to enjoy being intoxicated without a substance, together and alone.

Later that night, as Namjoon laid on his fold out sofa, alone, he thought of how great it had felt to have Brishti in his arms. To have someone who wanted to know about his day. To feel her heartbeat, like raindrops, knocking on his chest like it was a window pane, almost as if asking to be let in…

Thoughts like these, they made Namjoon reach for the notepad & pen that he always kept close by. He wrote. He wrote of being world weary and suddenly having a friend. Suddenly feeling like the world wasn't rushing him, that he didn’t need to run, that he could take time, be slow, be a poet. His heart tugged at his pen as it wrote lines about what it felt like to have someone cry for him. To have someone be full of feelings for him, to have someone to embrace his weary body. He wrote about how he missed that embrace and yet it was okay… as long as she was still here, maybe not just next to him, yet. Maybe someday. It was okay because she asked how he was every day and Brishti was here, forever. Namjoon felt tears run down his own face, as he titled the first poem he’d written in almost five years - Forever Rain.

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Oooooh god you read it?! Thank you so much! Please please let me know what you thought! Get into my messages about it! I would love nothing more than to hear what you felt about this!

#bts kim namjoon #fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon arranged marriage #namjoon x oc #arranged marriage #slow burn #slow burn fic #fluff fic #bts fanfic #bts #indian oc #red thread fics #forever rain #brishti

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iloveyoutotype-moonandback · 3 years

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CW: gore, abuse and rape mentions.

So I recently played the original Tsukihime visual novel (it’s being remade so I might as well check out the original right?) and I wanted to talk about some of my general impressions and thoughts on it.

TL;DR for people who don’t wanna read any spoilers (or if you just don’t wanna read through my long-ass post): I thought it was good and there were lot of aspects and themes that I found interesting. I did have problems with certain aspects of it however, and I wouldn’t recommend it to everyone since it’s really violent and...well just see the CW for yourself. But if none of that deters you, then I think it’s worth checking out!

So, like I said above the cut, I enjoyed it overall. The story was interesting, with the focus being on vampires and some more information on the church for example (fate tends to focus more on the grail war, so other aspects of the Nasuverse are inevitably glossed over or not mentioned at all). This also had a psychological horror aspect, with Shiki having dreams where he kills people just to give one example. But then there are certain indications that what he’s seeing is real, leading him to believe that he could be unconsciously killing people. And he doesn’t WANT to see these dreams, he actually hates them to the point that there are a few scenes where he straight up avoids going to sleep altogether. The problem is that he has no idea how to stop seeing them, or even what’s happening to him. Also other characters often hide stuff from him or lie for his “protection”, so that really only adds to the uncertainty (this dude kinda gets gaslit a lot, come to think of it).

I remember seeing some people say that the artwork for this vn isn’t as good as what you get in fsn, which makes sense given that it’s older and thus earlier in Takeuchi’s art career. And I can see what they mean, but there’s legit some good CG’s in this one. Also it does this interesting thing where instead of drawn backgrounds, it has real life pictures that have been edited/stylized. I can’t quite articulate it, but it gives the vn a different vibe that really works for it imo. I like it.

In terms of characters, I gotta say that Hisui was one of my favorites. I guess I just kinda relate to her in a weird way. She’s quiet, isn’t super expressive (or at least it seems that way initially), and doesn’t like being touched. I used to be like that (I’m still like that sometimes but I’ve gotten a lot better), though obviously she has....very different reasons for being that way. But at that point my brain had already gone “that one” with her.

Speaking of Hisui, I really like Kohaku too. If we’re comparing Nasu’s works here, I feel like she’s kind of comparable to Sakura. Mostly in a thematic sense, seeing as how she’s someone who appears normal enough but there’s a lot brewing beneath the surface that we don’t fully see until her route (and by that I mean she suffered sexual abuse from Shiki and Akiha’s father when she was a child). I don’t want to compare them too much tho, since they are different characters at the end of the day. It’s just something of a common thread I noticed. Though with Kohaku, you do actually get a glimpse into what her deal is in Hisui’s route (mainly in the epilogue), which then leads right into Kohaku’s route.

Outside of the two maids, Arcueid was another favorite of mine (if Hisui is my favorite, I’d say Arc is a close second) because she looks elegant at first but then you realize she’s a fuckin dork the moment she opens her mouth (and I love her for it). Ciel was cool too, and it was interesting to have a member of the church who’s more sympathetic than Kirei Ketamine over there (though as her route reveals, the church is still kinda fucked). I liked Akiha as well. It was really interesting seeing her develop across the 3 “far side of the moon” routes. At first you think she’s normal then op, turns out she’s part vampire and is actually pretty fucking powerful! That said, I did have a few problems with her route...

...which leads me into one of my criticisms of this vn. Akiha’s route was my least favorite out of the 5. Again, and I cannot stress this enough, it is not because of Akiha herself. Akiha good and cool. The issue here is Akiha and Shiki...basically fall in love and also fuck at one point. Did I mention that Akiha is Shiki’s little sister? Because she is. “Well Shiki was adopted so it’s not technically incest” don’t make me tap the sign:

Like yeah, I know “romance happens between Shiki and the main heroin of the route” is a common thread here but I’d like it if they made just one exception. Sibling relationships are good too, you don’t need to resort to romance.

And, well, now that it’s been brought up already: this vn has sex scenes! And they were just as bad as I expected! I did read through one or two, but after that I just started either skimming through them or skipping entirely. A lot of them don’t really effect the story much (except for like, one which is actually kinda important) so most of them aren’t really worth it unless you just want to laugh at the weird lines. Not a big deal but I felt like it was worth mentioning at least.

Moving on, Tsukihime did have some problematic elements outside of the whole incest thing. Fate/Stay Night had its own issues and obviously Tsukihime will have them too. Tbf to Nasu, he did say he later regretted some of the stuff he wrote in this early period. It’s good that he’s grown as a person and a writer, because looking back there are definitely a few lines here that are really fucking bad. One that stuck out to me was this line from Arcueid’s route where Shiki is arguing with Ciel and then he just suddenly says something along the lines of, “if you try to stop me from going, I’ll rape you right here”. It’s right the fuck out of nowhere too. And like, the reasoning was that he could barely walk at that point so he just came up with some super threatening thing to say, but it was just really unnecessary.

Actually, I think the same could be said about some of the sexual violence depicted. Like, there’s a whole recurring thing where Shiki will just suddenly get possessed to murder someone (because his vampire step-brother basically lives in his mind rent-free) and he mentions the arousal he gets from doing so. At several points he even acts on these impulses, and winds up getting hard and cumming as he cuts someone up into pieces. It’s...really fucking weird and I’m not sure what it adds by being there. It adds a creep factor for sure, but ig it’s a question of how necessary it actually is. Some of it is integral to the story, as is the case with...certain aspects of the Arcueid and Kohaku routes for example. So don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying remove it entirely, I’m just questioning some of the extra stuff that doesn’t seem totally necessary to me.

So all in all, while I did have some problems with it, Tsukihime isn’t bad by any means. Like I said before, I think it was good overall and I enjoyed it. You can acknowledge the problematic elements of something, but still otherwise like it. But yeah, certainly not for everyone, but still worth playing in 2021 I think.

#tsukihime #nasuverse #type-moon #also i didn't mention it but #this vn came out the same year i was born #so that's neat #this game is only 4 months younger than me #tsukihime is in college #long post

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mightbewriting · 3 years

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So I came to W&H and B&E in an odd way. I'm a long time Dramione fic reader who like many of us doubled down on in 2020 to find comfort in a bananas year. I kept seeing W&H on everyone's rec list, but for whatever reason kept putting it off. Then I heard about the prequel and decided to wait for that to be finished, read it, then do W&H. But once it was finished, I saw you recommended W&H first so I was like okay I'll do that. I struggle with impulse control but am trying to do better so when I saw the audiobook for W&H I was like perfect, I'll listen rather than read that way I won't gobble it up in a day. Ha well that did not work, I listened to the first 3 chapters (at that time those were the only chapters they had recorded) then instantly ran not walked to A03, reread said chapters, then continued on. At Chapter 4 of W&H, I thought hmm maybe I'll read them simultaneously. I continued that way maybe through Chapter 13 of B&E and Chapter 7ish then fully committed to W&H first. I cannot imagine reading these fics in real time because reading them in full, back to back was the most intense glutenous binge and it's taken over my life in the best way. I have been living in your fictional universe for the past two weeks. I started a list of all the parallels and callbacks and eventually had to call it because they are innumerable. I'm awed. In literal awe. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Your writing - the individual words of your vast vocabulary, the way you string said words together into hilarious, heart breaking, heart stopping, beautiful, and visceral feelings is astounding. It's hard to explain but even good writers (and/or an intriguing plot) sometimes do not create an overall immersive feeling. But the feelings your words evoke are all encompassing and truly universe building. Like it's not just the wording or the plot or the charters but all of it together come to make something even greater than the sum of their parts. Your writing, your universe of W&H, S&S, and B&E live in my mind and heart and in an embarrassing amount of screenshots of passages on my phone and in voice memos to myself as I don't have anyone irl to fan girl with. When I think of your words and the world you built, I'm reminded of a Taylor Swift lyric: "it cut deep to know you, right to the bone". That is how I'd describe your writing's effect on me, but in the best way.

Your brain's capacity to plot, plan, and flawlessly deliver W&H THEN B&E? Idk how you kept all the threads and plot points and moments and timelines in check. My head aches just thinking about how you wrote these stand-alone but also inextricable works of art. Like how does one's brain function in such a level? And it's especially telling in B&E because we knew where we were going but I still gasped, screamed, squealed, giggled, had to put my phone down, clutched it to my heart, fist pumped, stopped half way through just for a minute to breath and take it all in, and overall looked and acted as an utter idiot during each and every chapter because while I knew where we were going I also had no idea! I'm just floored you managed to keep us at the edge of our seats with a prequel? Who does that? You do!

The texts in the final chapter of W&H devastated me, literal chills. I think about that daily. It's exactly what H and we needed. Just like a reminder of what they went through. It reminded me of Chapter 41 of B&E. Like a summary of where they had been and where they are now.

The other thing that rattled in my brain is the motifs of choice and time, life kind of boils down to those two things huh? But choice especially. It's funny because choice is so prominent but at the same time how W&H and B&E give off soulmate vibes even though this is not a soulmate fic (also are the rumors true...?!) because despite time turners, breakups, and lost memories, they always come back together. But more on choice: it's just as Draco says - in a million scenarios he'll always choose her and he feels lucky she chose him just once. But of course with W&H, she does it twice. And she does it in both timelines of B&E, and of course that's the problem when Draco realizes he has not done the same hence heartbreak 1.0. And just god - he wants her to have a choice with the potion, a choice with her memories, and stops the timey wimey madness by realizing he's taking her choice (and in a way H started it by taking away his choice and leaving the first time). And then those parts about how he chose her, she chose him, but they could not chose each other. This motif, these callbacks. I'm flabbergasted. It's just hitting me now that you extend the choice to us as readers - we get to choose whether H get her memories back or not.

Theo in all your Wait and Hope universe, but especially S&S broke me. Blaise asking who is taking care of Theo when he's taking care of everyone else? Theo's literal and figurative demons? Yikes. Those were unpleasant looks in the mirror for me. I'm glad Theo has his Blaise. Where's mine haha? Also just shout to your underrated Blaise. The fact that he might be my favorite of the Slytherians in your stories says a lot since he doesn't say a lot haha. But he packs such a punch in all your works.

Okay, after singing your well deserved praises and fan girling and marveling at your works (god this is so long, I'm so sorry!), at long last my ask. I still cannot get this out of my head: what did Theo mean in Chapter 1 of B&E when he suggests to Draco “I know that. Maybe you could—tell her some of—” some of what? I zeroed in on this as soon as I read it and it's been rattling in my brain ever since.

um. hi? holy shit. i dont know how to process this. i am resisting the impulse to cringe away from the level of praise happening here because i really need to learn how to take a compliment but oh my god? i am not...this is just...wowzers. you are very literally too kind to me. i have melted into a puddle of feelings in my reading chair here.

so, first things first: thank you. these are some of the nicest things i’ve ever heard about my writing and i can guarantee i will come back to this ask when I'm feeling like i suck and need a motivation boost. i can’t deny...it feels really nice to know that at least one person out there caught and appreciated some of the insane attention to detail i forced upon myself lol. so thank you. truly, thank you so much for saying such amazingly kind things that have short circuited my brain!

and im sure my friends at @etl-echo-audiobooks will be over the moon to know that their recording work was such a hit! your trajectory reading these stories is so fun and hilarious and probably the most unique reading experience i’ve heard so far xD

also, please be advised that your analysis on choice in these stories is probably going to live in my head rent free for the rest of my life. i feel seen, you know? you just...picked up what i was putting down and it feels really nice to know that it worked for you!

and ok. your question. that little dash of ambiguity i was planning on leaving open ended. but let it be known i can be plied with compliments. i can’t just *not* give you something in return for such a lovely and kind and thoughtful dose of joy you had absolutely no obligation to give me today.

so, in my mind, after draco’s house arrest ended and before he went abroad for his mastery, he and theo had an extensive (most likely drunken. also blaise was probably there too) night of reflection where they kind of just looked back at their childhoods and the war and the history of blood purity and just sort of went: “what the fuck?” i imagine draco probably confided in theo that when he went abroad, he planned to just try and pretend like none of it mattered, to see if that was really true. and draco probably kept him updated via owl (even though draco did not write enough and theo had feelings about that) so that by the time draco returned and we have theo asking that sort of trailing question, the implication at the end is “what if you told granger some of your realizations about it all?” so...not all that exciting? but there you have it!

in conclusion: thank you! you are too kind! i appreciate your thoughtful commentary SO much! i’m so happy you enjoyed these stories. and i hope the explanation of what theo was going to say wasn’t too underwhelming.

#thegirlwhowatchedeverything #asks #death by kindness #my death #i am dead #oh also yes #they rumors are true #im writing a soulmate story next #i intend to hurt you #you being ALL of you #*evil laughter*

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mewtonian-physics · 3 years

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my ranking of the alex rider original series (stormbreaker through scorpia rising) from ‘book i least enjoy rereading’ to ‘book i most enjoy rereading’ let’s goooo

spoilers for all 9 books under the cut

9. Ark Angel

...He went to space. He went to space. Also the entire plot could have been avoided if Drevin had actually bothered to provide a photograph of his son. I’m sure he had one. I still like this book but it’s literally so insane that I just don’t know what to do with it.

It is however really funny that Webber just goes and gives a speech insulting this super high-profile ecoterrorist group and acts like it’s no big deal and then they kill him. Shock of shocks.

8. Skeleton Key

Okay, points to this book for terrifying the shit out of me. God damn it does that shark scene scare me. Also, points for making me feel a little bit bad for a man who wants to nuke his own country because he thinks it will fix the place up. I’m still not entirely sure how that’s supposed to work, but that’s probably a good thing. I feel like understanding his thought process would say bad things about me. Still, I actually did feel sorry for him, if only a little. Dude was clearly mentally unstable and I doubt his son’s death helped at all. I also got sad about what happened to Carver and Troy. (Yeah, yeah, I’m a cringe fail American who has the American release. So sue me.) What a nightmare that must’ve been to endure... Otherwise, though, I’m not super into this book. The opening is just kind of meh and the way it leads into the rest of the plot seems a little bit unbelievable. Also, this might be an unpopular opinion, but Sabina annoys me. I would not get along with her at all and I can’t imagine her as a girlfriend. Skeleton Key does, however, absolutely excel at the emotional scenes.

Also, why are all the spy agencies so comfortable with sending in a 14-year-old? Especially when they outright admit that the other attempts have all died horribly? Bureaucracy’s a bitch.

7. Point Blank

Boo, Dr. Grief! Boo! We hate your white supremacy! I’m so glad you got a snowmobile to the face, you deserved it. (Perks of books written by Jewish people--we aren’t afraid to give the neo-Nazis an unpleasant death.) Anyway, this book definitely isn’t bad, but I wouldn’t really say it stands out in the series. It definitely does hammer home the point of just how trapped Alex is, since MI6 isn’t going to just let him go after one mission, and let’s face it, the plot with the clones is creepy as hell, if highly improbable. But I’m largely just here to see the neo-Nazi get snowmobiled. That’s right, I just completely changed the definition of a pre-established word. I’m a rebel.

Also, I hate Fiona Friend so much and overall think she just didn’t need to be in the book, but the line about ‘I’d rather kiss the horse’ made me laugh so hard. Alex, you sass.

6. Snakehead

Okay, let’s talk about how genius the plan in this book is. I love it! I love how Yu wants to kill the people involved in the peace conference without making them into martyrs, so he comes up with this whole elaborate plan to stage a natural disaster. It’s incredible. This dude was thinking so far ahead. And he would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for that meddling kid... But anyway, I don’t see a lot of books where the villain really acknowledges that killing their enemies could just cause more problems for them via turning them into martyrs for a cause. Also, the way he’s so polite and soft-spoken while also being a complete monster... This book genuinely gives me chills. Extra bonus points for the part in the hospital, the absolute nightmare of having all your organs slowly removed and sold off and everyone around you is being so nice about it? ‘Oh, don’t worry, Alex, it won’t be so bad. Here, take your medicine. Do you need anything?’ Literally just. What the fuck.

Also Ash can fucking fight me. You put your own godson in horrible danger on purpose! You killed your best friend! Bastard.

...And just in case the book wasn’t disturbing enough, Yu’s fate at the end lives in my mind rent-free and I think about it on a concerningly regular basis considering that the chances of that happening to me are so low they’re practically in the negatives. Damn you, Horowitz.

I would also be remiss if I did not mention just how much I love the tagline ‘once bitten, twice spy’.

5. Crocodile Tears

Ah yes, the book that kickstarted my drift away from the church... I kid, of course. I drifted away from the church for completely separate reasons. But Desmond McCain is always going to scare the shit out of me. The ability to kill countless innocent people while blissfully quoting Bible verses (that he takes wildly out of context and uses for his own self-serving means) is... well, I could actually say a lot about what that reminds me of, but I’m here to rate books, not religion. Moving on. This book has some really stellar antagonists, and the plot is chilling in a way that feels a lot more realistic than most of the other books. Even if some of it is a bit farfetched (sabotaging a nuclear power plant? Really?), the idea of using disasters for your own profit... well. I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on why that is so believable. The Poison Dome is also a really cool and chilling scene--even Alex, who has the luck of the devil, can’t get out of that one unscathed. Further scares come in with the fate of Harold Bulman--imagine having your entire existence wiped and your identity changed while you were asleep! The breakdown he has over it is almost enough to make me feel sorry for him, even though he was ready to exploit a teenager and make his life a living hell just to turn a profit. Note the word almost.

Also. The opening makes me cry. Specifically the line talking about how Ravi’s kids would ‘never meet Mickey Mouse’. I lose my goddamn mind every single time I read it. That little personal touch turns the scene from a statistic to a tragedy. Once again: Damn you, Horowitz.

4. Stormbreaker

Yeah, this one gets the special cover shot. And why not? What we are looking at here is the birth of a legend. Move the fuck over, James Bond, Alex Rider is on the scene now. Anyway, yeah, this book is pretty damn spectacular. It has its stumbles, but as the first book in a series, that’s to be expected. Still, it pulls you in from quite literally the first line and keeps you going right up until the end. (If you came here from my post of memes, you know how much the line ‘Killing is for grownups, and you’re still a child’ destroys me.) It has the debut of much-beloved characters such as, of course, Alex--but also Jack Starbright, and of course, the best MI6 agent of them all, which is to say Smithers. Hell, even Yassen Gregorovich, especially once you get through Russian Roulette... Man, that was a rough one.

Seriously, though. This is a really good book. The scene with the Portuguese man-o’-war still gives me the chills to think about. (Have you ever looked up pictures of those things? They’re beautiful, but holy shit will they make you regret being born. Nature is funny like that.)

We also get the introduction of, of course, Alex’s patented sass (his response to Sayle saying he relates to the man-o’-war is HILARIOUS) and we get the inherent humor of Alex screwing up an alias one time and then just going by Alex for the rest of the series so he doesn’t do that again. Really, kid, I know you’re not a trained spy or anything but did you never play pretend growing up? Ever? You can’t pretend your name is Felix for a little while? That sounds like a you problem.

3. Scorpia Rising

I distinctly remember when this book came out, actually. I was on vacation at the time, and I remember my brother annoying the hell out of the poor workers at a bookstore we frequented there to see if/when they were going to get it in. They did, finally, and we bought it immediately, and I was of course absolutely desperate to read it. He got to read it first, though. -_-

This is a great book, an absolute emotional rollercoaster all the way through. The way Blunt tricks Alex back into service by staging a shooting was exactly the kind of cold, brutal behavior I’d expect from him. Seeing Julius come back was shocking, but very exciting, too. And Razim makes an incredibly chilling villain, with his absolute disregard for human life and his desire to measure pain. Also, seeing Smithers’s house was so much fun. Smithers in this book was just really fun in general, but he’s really fun in every book, so... nothing unusual there. But also, I want an unwelcome mat. Please?

2. Eagle Strike

‘But Penny,’ you might ask, ‘why is this book so high on your list? It has so much of Sabina in it, and you said she annoys you.’ That is true. What does not annoy me, however, is basically the entire rest of the book. I love the tense opening, and then reading through Alex’s real-life ‘playthrough’ of Feathered Serpent is still one of my favorite scenes. Cray is absolutely incredible as a villain, with the way that he truly believes in his cause--which is undoubtedly a good one! Yet the extremes to which he will go for that cause, and the fact that he very nearly succeeds, are what elevate him to one of the most dangerous villains in the series. That scene with Charlie Roper and the nickels is something I can never seem to stop thinking about. Actually, I think about it basically whenever I think about large amounts of money paid in small increments...

Also, I really enjoy how he gets into the whole plot in the first place, and I really enjoy Smithers saying ‘ah, fuck it’ and helping him out anyway. Go, Smithers. You once again prove me right in saying that you’re the coolest adult in MI6.

The revelation that Yassen knew Alex’s father is one that absolutely blew my mind first time around. The way his life was threaded into the lives of the Rider family--he worked with John Rider, was saved by him, killed Ian Rider, and then died for refusing to kill Alex Rider--wow. Wow. It gets to me. It really gets to me. This book is a masterpiece. I heard that it’s going to be what the second season of the TV series is based off of, and I’m so hyped for that. We love to see it, we really do.

1. Scorpia

I don’t believe anyone who says this book didn’t get to them at all. I just think they are lying. I don’t think it’s humanly possible to not be affected by this book. God. Just thinking about it reminds me of why I don’t think it’s possible. I mean, come on. We get all this backstory about Alex’s parents, we get tricked along with him into thinking MI6 killed his father, then bam, that was a lie, and Alex may have just fucked himself over big time. Also, that plot is terrifying! (And I bet anti-vaxxers had a field day with it, huh.) Julia Rothman is a really great antagonist, one of the only ones who didn’t go and explain her plan in great detail to Alex--the fact that she didn’t actually being a plot point was something I personally found pretty clever. In general, this book is... I tend to hate when people say they ‘can’t put it down’ because it’s usually an obvious exaggeration, but that really is how I feel reading it.

And again. If that ending didn’t get to you... Well, I just think you are lying.

#alex rider #spoilers

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whalesfallmoved · 3 years

Text

hand over wound (1/??)

half an excuse to play around with form, style, and the second person pov. this isn’t what I typically write, so I’m ahhhhh about it all around. alas, FHR lives rent free in my head right now. only read over it a few times for mistakes, so apologies for any typos.

pairing: ricardo ortega/f!sidestep, pre-heartbreak rating: t word count: 2175 warnings: mentions of blood, injury. typical canon content.

[read on AO3.]

You’re in an apartment that isn’t yours with a man you shouldn’t trust and a gut bleeding out over his nice, expensive bathroom, and that doesn’t sound like the start of a bad joke so much as the start of the end of your life.

(If you could call it a life, if you could call it anything more than all your stolen seconds ticking down to this moment. Torn stitches— fucking stupid, stupid mistake, this is how they’re going to get you—)

(He’ll take you to a hospital and they’ll look and they’ll know and he’ll know and and and)

Fuck.

Two choices:

One. You can suck it up, ask for a first aid kit—he’ll have one, twice as nice as the one you’ve got and he doesn’t even need it—all those Ranger benefits he keeps trying to entice you with, go team! Maybe even some halfway decent painkillers.

You lock yourself in the bathroom, stitch yourself up clean enough to get out of here without bleeding on his floor, too. You can meet his questions with a hard laugh and a fuck off I’m fine go finish making the food I’m starving.

(and why the fuck did you come here why did you let yourself get swayed by his fast grins and his bright eyes? He isn’t your friend, he isn’t, even if he thinks he is.)

Fuck.

Two. You make a run for it. More questions. Potential for passing out in a dark alley. Vulnerable and wounded until you can get back to your own shitty place and hope to god Ortega doesn’t think to follow you. Which he will, you know he will, and you’re fast but he’s always been faster, just as quick on the draw with a mind of static to take your edge.

You pull the tight undershirt up higher, flinching at the sight of your own skin, focus on the blood rolling sluggish and hot instead of the flinty orange patterns. The wound’s deep and fresh and curled like a crooked smile.

Black clothes help. Red splatters vibrantly on the white marble counter, onto the floor, sticks to the soles of your feet (bare, shoes kicked off at the door.) You’ll have to clean that up. How the hell will you do that? With his goddamn bleach white towels?

God— fucking— fuck.

Okay. You can do this. You just ask. Ask for the first aid kit. Slam the door in his face. Or run.

You want to run. Feel that rabbit-heart drive bursting up under the skin to book it and maybe that’s what you need to do. Yes. That’s what you need to do. Leave Ortega the mess—you’ve saved his ass enough times you won’t feel bad about it, or at least not so bad you’ll apologize for it later (you never apologize, even when you maybe should) and—

A knock, and you jump, gasp. “Still alive in there?” He asks, that same smile-lilt to his voice. He’s teasing you, a little, but there’s an edge of concern too.

(shitshitshitshitshitshitfuck)

“Just give me a second.” You bite out, trying to sound put upon rather than panicked.

Shirt tugged down—fuck, that hurts—and your teeth sink into soft cheeks, hard enough to sting.

A pause. You wait for the sound of footsteps to move away from the door. Silence, instead.

Exhale.

“—Hey, are you alright?”

Goddamnit.

“I’m fine,” you drop to your knees and your side screams and the blood gets stickier, you can feel the fabric dragging with every move. Throw open the cabinets. Maybe he was organized for once in his life and put the first aid kit in here (fat chance) and nothing, nothing, just bare bones cleaning supplies.

Frustration and pain build up, you slam the cabinet with a teeth-clenched groan and the knock comes again, more insistent this time, hard knuckles on hard wood— can’t you just fuck off can’t you leave me alone why did i come here—

“Noa. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. God, what do you want?” You snarl, voice raising to a pitch.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” Your hand clutches at your side and comes away red, smeary. You have to do something, you have to move. Think. You can’t stay here.

He’s not going to let you go. You should’ve just run while you had the chance, now he’s just outside the door waiting, on alert, knows you better than anyone (which isn’t saying much but it’s saying enough) and knows enough to not let you just snarl your way out of this.

Shaky inhale. “Maybe.”

“Okay,” he breathes—relief? you don’t know and it chafes, what’s there to be relieved about?—gives a softer laugh, “no big deal. Just open the door.”

You don’t want to do that. You really, really don’t want to do that. He’s going to want to help, he’s going to want to see, the way you’ve helped him before.

(warm brown skin interrupted by mods and scar tissue and the expanse of his back, defined muscle rippling under your fingertips— stay still, you snap, smacking his shoulder, and he laughs— ouch, watch it, I’m wounded— and that’s your own fault you idiot, needle/thread, and you lay his stitches so much neater than your own.)

“I… can’t.”

“...You can’t?”

“No.”

“Is it that bad?” His voice takes on a new edge, sharper now, the kind of break down the door, get the job done edge that comes with being a Ranger, you suppose. Not quite hard, still light enough to pass for his brand of charm-sly soothing, but you know better than to fall for that.

“I’m fine. Can you just…” you push up onto your feet, choking down another groan, pain splitting through your side like a disc-saw, “can you just get the first aid kit?”

You think you hear a faint curse, and then: “yeah, be right back.”

In the space between, panic sets in.

Panic’s a cold emotion, and it’s a sick kind of luxury. You never got to panic before, riding it out out out all silent scream while everyone else’s thoughts and feelings stuck to your teeth, wormed down to the base of your spine. With Ortega you’re alone in your head and the only thing left to do is wait. Fists clench, ease the shaking.

A few minutes pass, tick-tick-tick, and he’s at the door again, knock softer this time, and please, please, please leave me alone you want to say but you don’t, you just press your palm (red-stark) to your side, and maybe— maybe if you slam it open, it’ll knock him back long enough to give you a head start. You just have to get out—

“Noa.” He knocks again, and you think you hear his breath hitch, maybe, and you want to know what he’s thinking, you want to know so badly but it’s just deafening silence outside the door.

“Yeah… yeah.”

One hand to your pulsing gut, one hand shaking, the knob unlocks with a soft click, and you’re stumbling back into the bathroom, and he’s there, filling the doorway, eyes soft-hard and brow furrowed. His eyes flick over the counter, the floor (blood splatters, streaks of it) and he lets out another quiet string of curses, “what the hell happened—?”

He’s moving forward, and you stumble back till your knees hit the toilet.

You both still. Freeze. He’s got you cornered, and he knows it, he must know it, fuckfuckfuck— breathe, you have to breathe.

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt.” He murmurs, softer than before, one hand curled around the green-white first aid kit. Bandages. Stitches. Alcohol.

Maybe you could grab it. Run? No, that’s stupid— he’ll just grab you, shove you back, ask for answers you can’t and won’t give.

Fuck.

Again, you say: “I’m fine,” and feel your lips curl back, a snarl fit for a dog in a ring.

“Yeah, you look it,” he shakes his head, tries to smile, like he isn’t surprised but he wishes it were different, and he’s not going to get mad at you, not yet, we all get hurt in this business but it still can’t be different, it can’t be, asshole, so stop asking, “c’mon, let’s… go in the living room, and I’ll—”

“No,” you snap hard, working around the toilet toward the counter. A little more room that way, and you won’t sit, even though you’re starting to feel it, the shakes and the dizziness. Drip, drip, drip, and your hand curls tighter over your stomach.

“No?” He blinks, more confused than offended.

(you have such a delicate touch, he scoffs as you wrap pristine white bandages over the stitched gash, rough but slow, and you roll your eyes don’t get fucking shanked next time then, and he gasps, mock-offense, brown eyes sparkling, searching your mask for expression he won’t find but you’re smiling, you’re smiling because he’s beautiful.)

“Just give it to me. I can deal with it myself.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” It is.

“Sure it isn’t.”

“It’s just a flesh wound, alright? Someone got a lucky scratch in that last fight. Didn’t think it’d open again. But it’s not that bad.”

“Well, I’m still not going to leave you here to stitch yourself up.”

Fucking— always so stubborn, why won’t he quit?

“Either give it or I leave. Take your pick.”

He stills, watching you, and you wonder how you look to him.

Like a scared animal? Wounded little monster he found and picked up for some fucking reason? What does he want with you? What is he thinking?

His eyes trail over you, clothes all black and layered, baggy enough to hide everything,

“You’re kidding.” He wants you to be kidding.

“Do I look like it?” You tilt your head back, challenging, stilling up—shoulders stiffen, legs numb, prepared to run or to fight. Like he’s not blocking the only exit, like he’s not the one person in the world you can’t outmaneuver—Sidestep brought down by a head full of silence and a pretty fucking face.

They would laugh at you. They will if this escalates, if he sees. He’s got all his good intentions, it’ll be the death of you. He’ll be the death of you.

“So what’s it gonna be?” It’s supposed to sound like a sneer-snarl but it comes out weak, the razor edge of fear sliding just under your tongue.

But he must miss it. Or chalk it up to something else. “You’re being ridiculous,” he shakes his head, “it’s really not an issue.”

Ortega, always believing the best of you. That you don’t want to inconvenience him.

He wants to stay.

(you’ve never had anyone who wants to stay before.)

“I just wanna do it myself, fucks sake.” You burst, cutting him off at the finish line, and now you’re up on your feet, reaching with your free hand for the kit, ripping it from his hand.

“Just...” what was the line? “Just go finish making the food, alright? I’m starving.” and he lets you take it, lets you slam it down on the counter. You drop your blood-wet palm and clench it, as if to say see I’m fine it’s not that bad and his eyes drift over you again, harder than before, and he’s annoyed, well that’s too bad.

“Can I at least…”

“No.”

Jaw clenches. Works. Ortega never knows when to not push, when to not be that wonder boy so full of heart, head first into the action, and you’re small potatoes so what the fuck is he doing here, really, with you? There’s a dozen other vigilantes in Los Diablos that would probably work with him, that would fall for his knockout smile twice as fast and twice as hard.

(oh, you’ve fallen alright, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

But he knows you. He does. More and less than he thinks he does. And he knows you’re not bluffing. You’ll leave.

Shoulders still raised, jaw still stubborn, he slowly nods and steps back. You feel relief unshutter in your chest. “Alright,” he sighs, slumps.

Does he want you to stay? Or does he just want to make sure you don’t pass out in some grimy back alley to get picked over?

It doesn’t really matter.

(why is he letting this go that easily?)

“If you say it’s not that bad, I’ll believe you,” he nods, and it feels like a lie, sticks around in your skin the way lying does when someone lies with their mouth but not with their thoughts. “Just let me know if I can do anything, alright?” Smile, again, he’s always smiling except when he isn’t, effortlessly charming.

“...Okay.” You mutter. There isn’t anything he can do, and you both know you won’t ask.

You stand off, not flinching and not moving as he steps back, hands twitching at his sides—to raise them in surrender or grab you, you don’t know, so as soon as he’s through the door you grab it, slam it closed, lock it fast.

Safe. Or as safe as you can be.

Fuck.

#ricardo ortega #fhr #mywriting #hand over wound*#also known as: I wrote this instead of an essay #did I proof read it? no.#*forgot the ao3 link mndfgnmf whoops

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spineofdeathwing · 3 years

Text

An Overdue Apology Letter To The WRA Community

As most of you folks probably already know, I'm Gallows/Jerymiah and I've done a lot of shitty things in the past and some pretty shitty things in more recent times. I want to preface this letter by saying there's no excuses for anything I've done both past and present. While my upbringing, mental health, etc. can be used to explain some of the behavior, they do not excuse it - and they never should. Most people that know of me and don't like me - for very valid reasons of course - are familiar with the person I used to be during the time period of 2015-2016 (along with that stupid fucking thread I had in 2017 with the BLM supporter, which ironically enough I now agree with in present day with everything they said and completely disagree with everything I said back then.) During those years I was an unironic altright troll and in my own words from back then, a "proud fascist". I did and said a lot of really stupid and hateful, downright cruel shit during this time - a lot of it I can't even remember, but the people I hurt back then sure do. I know it hurts them even more to hear I can't even remember who they are or what I did to them, because it's just downright frustrating (to say the least) to have been so vehemently wronged by someone that their cruelty left a lasting imprint on you and yet you haven't been on their mind at all since then. While I may not have specific names and faces to dwell on, I do think back on that time a lot. I agonize over it and despise myself over it. I was bullied all my life relentlessly from preschool to high school, and yet here I was doing that to other innocent people for nothing more than to feel like a big man in front of some douchebags who I wanted to impress for some dumb as fucking shit reason. I can never say sorry enough, I can never change enough to erase what I did back then. No matter how sorry and awful I feel now about that time, it doesn't change the fact that I did it and people are right to hate me and not trust me because of it. While I can happily say I am as far from a nazi/fascist as anyone can possibly be these days, it doesn't erase the fact that at one point in my life I zealously supported this mindset and ideology. I won't waste your time or my own explaining why I had fell in line with fascism and those assholes in Demagogue/Clergy of the Great One... cause it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what my reasons were or what the situation was at the time, or how I was feeling mentally/emotionally at that point in my life. Those things don't excuse what I did, and I can't keep hiding behind them to try and avoid the repercussions of my actions. I hurt a lot of people back then, and I'll never be able to fix that. I can only say that with all of my heart and soul that I am truly, deeply, sorry for everything I did and said back then and that if I could I would take it all back and never go down that path. But life doesn't work like that, and I gotta own up to what I did - which I always have done, but until now I always tried to blame it on those aforementioned excuses rather than just admit to myself instead of trying to explain it all away. Post 2016, I was in a weird and awkward phase where I was trying way too hard to be all-of-a-suddenly PC and friendly with people who really wanted nothing to do with me but were either too polite or just downright terrified of me to say so - I don't blame them. I said some really cringy and weird shit, especially after I was learning more about my own ethnic origins. At the time I had just learned that I had Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jewish ancestry from my abuela and went a little crazy with it, ended up saying something dumb, cringy/admittedly creepy to an artist/rper 'Buttart/Poeful' in an ask on Tumblr at this time which really creeped/weirded her out and I honestly can not blame her for feeling that way and I cannot say sorry enough for this - I'm even cringing looking back at this and thinking to myself, "why the FUCK would you say that to someone??" In 2018 I had a falling out with a friend due to my own actions causing them to distance themselves from me which made me lash out at them in frustration - this was incredibly childish and selfish of me, and I'm deeply sorry to Fig for how I acted at that time. Though I will say this though: I actually reached out to Seb not too long ago to apologize for my own behavior and we actually buried the hatchet after they admitted that the uproar they'd instigated at this time about me (which led to my former friend distancing themselves from me) was entirely fabricated and apologized for it. Nothing had happened at the Halloween RP party event I had cohosted with Basil and Kott, or the farewell to UC event they'd hosted prior that I also helped out with. But more importantly, I acted like an ass and Fig was totally valid to cut me off for it. I still maintain my innocence when it comes to the weirdly specific/similar anonymous ask that Fig's friend Catbat had received trying to warn them about Fig. Which would have been fine, but no... I instead crossed the line by making a new tumblr in order to try and message Fig in order to try and vindicate myself but ended up just acting like a pissy little child - AGAIN, which just overwrote any shred of credibility I might have still had at that point. It'll never be enough to make things right, but I AM sorry about all that Fig. You're a really cool and fun person, I was upset that my own shitty behavior had cost me a good friend, and I unfairly took it out on you or anyone else who supported you during that ordeal - this included Buttart/Poeful. Who is another really cool, fun, and talented person that I'm truly very sorry for how I've treated both back then and recently. I can't take back what I called you, Buttart. But I am sorry I called you the C-word. You didn't deserve that - I let my own paranoia and poor self-control lead me right back into the shithouse and there's no one to blame for how I acted at that time but me. The same also goes to you, Hypna. I blew up on you in Orgrimmar when you had done nothing wrong to me, I went paranoid again of my own fault and lashed out because I know you've always been very vocally opposed to me and my presence in the community. I'm sorry, I really am. I don't really know you, but you seem like a cool enough person - I'm sorry that I couldn't have met you/known you under better circumstances. That can be said for everyone in the WRA/MG RP community who knows me/knows of me, though. I really wish I could fix everything I've done wrong over the years and just start over - but I can't. Life doesn't work that way, you don't get to just say "I'm sorry! D,:" and then everyone instantly forgives you in order to let you try and build back up again with a fresh start. It'd be nice, of course, but it's unrealistic... and that's something I've been fighting against for a long time now and just need to learn to accept. Really all I can do is just say that I'm so sorry to everyone I've ever hurt, and if there's ANYTHING I can do in order to make things even just the tiniest bit better for you - please don't hesitate to confront me and make it known. I will do the very best I can to accommodate your wishes. I don't ask for instant forgiveness or everything to go back to normal, but what I do ask for is a real chance to actually try and start over and earn this community's trust again, and if your view of me will never change - that's okay too. But just leave me alone, okay? That's all I ask, just leave me alone if you don't like me, don't let me live rent-free in your head. I'm not worth it, honestly.

#Story #scumbag #world of warcraft #Wyrmrest Accord #Moon Guard #Harassment #nazis #submission

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atlascas · 3 years

Text

DEANCAS FIC REC

(last updated 7/1)

FINALLY. this is like. just a place for me to rec and write excessively abt the fics i've been reading lately. it won't be organized but it WILL be very earnest and i'll keep it updated as i find/remember more. also i have obnoxiously high standards when it comes to fic so these ARE the cream of the crop, if u will. the god tier. the s tier.

very loosely organized into "newer fic" and "classics." these are subjective categories. do what you will

✨ = new fic on the list

💖 = in my brain rent free!

CURRENTLY READING

these are the fics that i’m currently reading! may or may not get recced. usually i read the first couple paragraphs/lines and if i like the writing it gets bookmarked and put on this list.

lazarus needs a robe of scarlet thread by herrosesneverfall, 90k, canonverse au. dean starts getting stigmata. when i was getting back into spn there were a LOT of religious fics flying around bc that was the Hot Topic of Discussion. this was one of them

Three weeks ago, Dean woke up in a pine box. He thought dealing with the nightmares was going to be the most difficult part of his new life after Hell, but at least they were something he could understand. Something he could deal with. Something he deserved.

Then he began having agonizing visions of crucifixion. Wounds appeared on his body out of nowhere. Wounds that refused to heal and coated his skin with the sickly sweet smell of roses.

Stigmata are said to be the marks of saints, but Dean is not a saint and the wounds are only the beginning.

kingdom come by ahurston, 8.7k, coda to 15x18. cas gets to go home. im gathering all the s15 fix-its to my heart and holding them close

Cas wakes up on the coast of Maine. He makes his way home.

hunger by ellispark, 10.8k, s13 au. dean grieves cas, post s12 finale. perfect writing perfect awful heartwrenching characterization so far on dean’s end especially towards jack. nuanced emotional writing

Dean takes his meal and throws it away, plate and all. He's not hungry. How can he even begin to eat, knowing what he kept from Cas — what he kept from both of them?

They could have had something, and now all Dean has is this gaping, empty hole in his stomach, in his chest, and he has to learn to breathe and eat and move around it.

the law of equivalent exchange by awed_frog, 60.8k, canonverse. cas loving dean in all permutations of humanity, throughout time.

“And what’s the point of it?”

“Of love? There isn’t one. Loving is its own purpose.”

NEWER FIC

“newer” just means “i discovered it in 2020/2021 after coming back to spn fandom” so it very well could have been published before 2015 but really who’s checking. not me that’s for sure.

💖 so says the sword by komodobits, 85k, s4 au. cas guards the michael sword in the beautiful room. this is easily the MOST obvious rec on this entire list but it was the first fic i read when i got back into spn this year and jesus christ it set the bar sky fucking high. the way they create a coherent mythology out of the mess that is spn canon is incredible.

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’

Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

assimilation by komodobits, 5.6k, coda to 12x01. mary meets dean and cas and they go to find sam. such good character studies of all three of them. the best mary pov fic i’ve read

Mary always thought you were supposed to be able to tell. That you could just look at someone and know they were – you know. One of that sort. It’s not supposed to happen to her son.

cuckoo and nest by komodobits, 10k, ambiguously canonverse. dean and cas navigate relationship anxiety. cute, in character, and their relationship is realistic and the conflict well-written and emotionally nuanced and really really really good.

For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental.

It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless.

💖 one white lie by komodobits, 11k, au. cas panics when trying to ask dean out and has to fake being a jehovah’s witness. it’s adorable and hilarious and it’s been ages since i actually got butterflies at a kiss in a fic but this did it. it did it. it felt like someone swaddled my soul in a cashmere blanket and kissed me on the forehead

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

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

a crash course in someone else’s history by annie d (scaramouche), 11.5k, set during s6. cas comes to as his s4 self without any memories of the past two years and has to figure out what the fuck is going on. it’s kind of like so says the sword. you’ll know it when you get to it.

Castiel is captured inside a trapping circle of holy oil set by Dean and Sam Winchester. The brothers call him "Cas", claiming that he has amnesia and that he is obligated to help them take down Crowley to atone for his betrayal of them. It's the strangest story Castiel's ever heard, and one he doesn't have time for because he's only just raised Dean from Hell and has work to get back to.

💖 cas and dean’s adventures in gardening by ahurston, 19k, post-canon au. a series featuring dean and cas living in the bunker, human. cas is very into plants. i read this yesterday actually and it made me smile SO much it’s just so lovely and sweet. i’m also a sucker for any fic where cas has a garden. he deserves a fucking garden okay

In this post-God world, everything is different. A little quieter, a little softer. Cas grows a garden, Dean cooks, and they take care of each other.

tall grass by aeli_kindara, 57k, post-s12. dean and cas live in the bunker on their own, and cas grows a garden. i did say i love fics where cas has a garden. plus domesticity, plus some good case fic, PLUS dean and cas’ relationship is so gentle and good

“I think we should have a garden,” Cas says.

Dean looks up from his beer. He hasn’t had that much to drink, but Cas still has a vague look of unreality about him, a splash of living color that doesn’t fit in the bunker’s echoing stillness. Dean didn’t hear him coming. A lot of the time, Cas is so unobtrusive it feels like Dean has the bunker to himself, with Sam away.

Dean shakes his head to clear it. “A — garden?” he repeats.

in a week by renrub, 2.3k, post 15x18. cas is in the empty. dean saves him. this is genuinely the best “dean pulls cas out of the empty” fic i’ve read so far like conceptually this entire thing just fucks. when cas is cycling through the barn scene. god. SO well written

Castiel is outside a barn covered in sigils. He frowns. This isn’t right. This has never been something he repented for.

i won’t even wish for snow by annie d (scaramouche), 5.6k, college au. cas goes to the winchesters’ for christmas. honestly scaramouche fics belong in the classics section bc she’s like an og deancas writer but whatever. mistletoe! banter! good in-character au! this fic’s got it all

It’s the third year that Castiel’s spending Christmas with his best friend’s family, and he expects it to be much like the previous two. Then mistletoe happens.

convenient husbands by annie d (scaramouche), 39k, canonverse au. cas is a phoenix, dean is a hunter. they get married and have a sick psychic bond. unexpectedly fluffy considering how the fic starts and i love the banter so much and dean/cas’ relationship gets fleshed out and organically developed it’s very cute

"It's only temporary, right?" Dean says. "Just until you're healed up, and then we'll never have to see each other again. So what do you say, Castiel, do you want to marry me or not?"

cinderwings by bendingsignpost, 181k, cinderella au. cas goes to a masquerade ball to save his people from an eternity trapped in a void. he meets prince dean. i can’t tell u how much this fic drew me in - thru good worldbuilding, but mostly thru cas’ social awkwardness. like it works PERFECTLY to his advantage in this fic and reading how expertly he manipulates social situations w/o any fucking idea what he’s doing is both hilarious and inspiring

Under the cover of a masquerade ball, Castiel has five nights to recover the key to his people's freedom. The world has changed greatly in the six centuries since their banishment into the void, but the task isn't impossible. Unfortunately for Castiel, this is going to involve talking to people - especially the Knight Prince who has taken an interest in Castiel and his "costume" wings.

as the crow flies by bendingsignpost, 3.4k, au. dean and cas go on a roadtrip. cas has wings! it’s so dreamlike and meandering and the slowburn is so good. honestly it reminds me of stevebucky/stevesam post tws era roadtrip fics if ur hip LMAO

Cross country road trips with Cas are the best.

long-term relationship by bendingsignpost, 2.7k, au. dean and cas have a Serious Conversation about their relationship.

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

Reflexively, Dean laughs.

Castiel does not.

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

all this and heaven too by ftmsteverogers, 7k, ambiguously canonverse. dean is trans. dean and cas are fucking and lowkey hiding it from sam. perfect character study PERFECT trans dean fic it’s so fucking well-written

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

Cas raised skeptical eyes to meet his.

“I mean it,” Dean insisted.

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

💖 the love story of the runner up by margo_kim, 4.7k, ambiguously canonverse. cas tries dating other men. bear with me here. this is an outside pov fic from an oc named miguel who is WONDERFULLY characterized and very endearing like i find outsider/oc pov to be on Thin Fucking Ice bc it always ends up as fandom/author self-insert but miguel is his OWN MAN. he gets his own lil arc and everything. dean and cas are concentrated perfectly crystallized versions of themselves and the little glimpses we get of them are amazing. ALSO i wrote like 9k of an spn vent fic (basically the same premise but w an oc named marcus) back in like. freshman yr of hs. so when i first opened this fic i was like what the fuck someone’s been in my google docs. very weird experience 10/10 regardless

“So you saw a white man in a trench coat pop out in an alley,” Paul says, “and you thought, what, ‘I want to see where this is going’?”

“If you get hung up on details like that,” Miguel says, “it will take a very long time to get through this story.”

For a very weird era in his life, Miguel dates an angel who is in love with another man.

sunshine by northernsparrow, 8k, set during s13. dean and cas have a long conversation about their Profound Bond. the description left me off-balance (it really. really truly says “dean is straight in this fic” like okay bro WEIRD hill to die on) but it pulled through w the relationship study and reassurance and snuggles. a sweet fic

One-shot with a single conversation between Dean and Castiel, set in a late-S13-ish world. Gabriel, Cas, Sam & Dean are all living in the bunker together, Gabe's been cracking certain jokes, Sam's found a certain book, Cas is injured and isn’t healing... and it's all making Dean wonder if his angel friend might have some sort of a "bond" with... somebody? Whatever that means.

Maybe it's time for a talk.

💖 still life by catchclaw, 16.5k, post-s8. cas, newly human, goes to live on his own for a while. he and dean maintain a relationship thru the phone. this is LITERALLY the only first person fic i fucking respect okay like i was skeptical! i really was! but the pov is PERFECT and also my man kevin tran is in this fic and i love him and miss him very much. oh and cas going off to explore humanity on his own..............perfect arc. very much in character we love that for him

Dean'd always thought that falling in love was a capital letter kind of thing, an Important Event you carved into the calendar of your life and never, ever forgot. But with he and Cas, it wasn't that simple.

it’s mostly cowardice, and bad timing by ferritin4, 1.6k, pre-canon. actually this one is just a dean study it’s not deancas but i spent an entire night looking for it and i need someone else to read it too. dean is smart!!! SAY THAT

Dean gets his GED.

a list of reasons the bunker shouldn’t get a sofa by lizbobjones, 5.6k, set during s12. sam and dean and mary and cas haul a sofa back to the bunker. cute domesticity and fluff

Let me count the ways that this is a terrible idea.

no kingdom to come by domesticadventures, 16.8k, canonverse. dean and cas deal with being stuck in quarantine in different ways. this is the one and only quarantine fic i’ve read and it’s really good lmao. dean and cas’ relationship is so organic and tentative in this one

“We should fuck,” Dean says.

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

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

Instead, Cas says, carefully, “Okay.”

till the juice runs by deathbanjo, 8.4k, canonverse. it’s like dean’s being cursed to have bad hookups with men. SUCH a funny fic and the deancas tension is so simple and sweet and GOOD. plus cas is so enjoyably characterized here he’s so human and worn in and experienced in his own unique way. perfect use of rowena too

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

turn of the year by kototyph, 3.9k, canonverse au. sam and dean get stuck out in the middle of nowhere on the winter solstice. what i wouldn’t give for a full 80k of this verse actually. also i went on a kototyph binge after reading shut up put your money where your mouth is and they have a SOLID spn repertoire

Fifteen minutes later, Dean gets back in the car with empty hands and ice in his fucking eyebrows. “Get the map out,” he says through chattering teeth, sticking numb fingers under his arms.

Sam holds up the battered 1995 Rand MacNally they keep in the side pocket, turned to a page of uninterrupted green. “We’re going to die,” he announces.

💖 bullets in the gun by kototyph, 4.9k, canonverse au. cas is a cop (i know. still) who gets kidnapped by dean in an unfortunate turn of events. GOD this fic is SO FUNNY. cas’ canny and strategic escape attempts render him a very active VERY funny pov character plus the hate attraction to dean is PERFECTLY WRITTEN VERY BELIEVABLE. dean’s kindness also shines thru even as he literally holds cas hostage like!!!! PERFECT characterization. both of them are so LIKABLE here. if you read anything on this list read this

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m going to need to borrow your car.”

as you will by kototyph, 1.8k, victorian au. cas endures a proposal mishap. it’s cute it’s funny it’s sweet!

"No?" Castiel echoes, dumbly.

and if i was looking too? by kototyph, 2.6k, au. cas is undercover where dean works. this fic is just so cute like. bird angels.................

There are some things Castiel hasn't told Dean, and there are some things he doesn't need to.

the most important thing by northernsparrow, 94.5k, s10 au. amnesiac cas raising claire until he comes across someone familiar. claire is so well characterized here i really loved her arc thruout this fic. she just wants her dad back and u can’t even blame her the author rlly does an amazing job creating realistic and heartbreaking motivations for her. oh and dean and cas (esp cas characterization!) are sweet in this but honestly the highlight IS claire for me

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car? (Canon-divergent from S10E11, when we first met Claire again and Dean was still struggling with the Mark of Cain. Takes places several months later).

there’s only one sure thing that i know by blinkiesays, 20.3k, post-s5. dean goes to help cas out in ohio and they end up building a home together. i love the writing it’s rlly funny and sweet.

Dean doesn't even get halfway through explaining before Bobby starts laughing. When he lets himself think about it for more than five seconds, Dean can almost see Bobby's point: he's faced down demons, witches, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, angels, and Satan himself and now he's been defeated by the God damn Midwest.

💖 to an angel, love and worship are the same thing by geminisage, 10.3k, post s15 fix it. dean grieves cas - and then cas gets brought back back from the empty. i didn’t have this in my bookmarks so i MISSED it the first time around on this list but this was another one of the fics i came back to spn fandom to. it’s so fucking unique?? it actually reads like spn like i think fic tends to soften dean/cas up and makes them more emotional + emotionally intelligent than is ever shown in the show. here the dialogue/characterization adheres RIGOROUSLY to their communication in canon in that dean’s not overtly emotional, and cas is very reserved. they have to negotiate their relationship exactly like they would in the show. it’s all clipped conversation and anger and hurt and (warning btw) LOTS of internalized homophobia on dean’s end but it’s SO worth it. dean navigating his [GESTURES VAGUELY] everything is compellingly written, emotionally true, and PERFECTLY characterized. cas characterization also amazing like u rlly feel the quiet devoted bittersweet love. ok this was long clearly it’s a good fic go read it now

Just as Dean knew they would, the weeks do stretch into months, and then into a year. Grief never gets easier, Dean knows from experience, but you do get better at it. After all, you can get used to anything.

the violin house by teh_helenables, 8.5k, post-s5. dean and cas build a home after stull. so slow and lovely and sweet and gentle. i need to put this here so that i don’t forget it tbh. it’s very much dean as a war wife cas as the husband away on the front

The Apple Pie Life is a slow process, but Dean and Cas are getting there—until Cas is called for battle and Dean is forced to wait.

💖 muscle memory by komodobits, 18.9k, au. amnesiac cas wakes up three years in the future with dean in his kitchen. komodobits DOES NOT FUCKING MISS!!! i CRIED at the end of this i had NO INTENTION OF CRYING the rest of the fic isn’t even SAD i just had to sit there at the end of it w tears dribbling down my face. INSANE work of art

Dear Castiel,

Hello – it’s Castiel. This must all seem very confusing, and I’m sorry for that. Dean says to tell you that this isn’t some kind of ‘time-travel stunt’, although I’m sure that won’t be your first thought. I know it wasn’t mine. I’ve told Dean to leave now, as this is my notebook and I want everything in it to come from me – or rather, from you. I know you think it's the fifteenth of January, 2010, but it isn't. At the time of my writing this, the date is the fourth of October, 2013. Dean Winchester is your boyfriend of a year and a half, and you no longer work at the library, and in early 2010 you were hit by a car and hospitalised. I’m sorry.

a.k.a the 50 First Dates Dean/Cas AU where Castiel wakes up on a day just like any other, except that three years have passed without his knowing, and Dean Winchester is in the kitchen wanting to marry him.

don’t forget the experience points by annie d (scaramouche), 10.8k, au. cas is sam’s work friend, and he and dean get to know each other. genuinely an adorable fic. i adore cas’ characterization in this it’s snarky AND awkward AND confident in a way that i absolutely believe he would be if he had 30 yrs of human life under his belt

It's because Dean was an awesome brother than he took such an interest in Sam's new friend. No, really. What happened afterwards was mostly an accident.

actus fidei by manic_intent, 5.6k, canonverse au. dean’s a priest, cas is still his angel. i was HOOKED from the description alone like That’s Everything I Love in One Sentence. Cool!!!!!!!!!!!!

On the very first time that Castiel manifests in front of Father Dean Winchester, he gets as far as "Rejoice, for you are blessed-" before Dean shoots him with a salt-loaded shotgun.

not with a bang but a yelp by strange_estrangement, 1.4k, canonverse. team free will leave yelp reviews. this isn’t d/c actually it’s just a crack-ish fic but the formatting is cool and the references are SO funny and so well done

What happens when you visit dozens and dozens of motels every year? You leave Yelp reviews.

the courtship of combat by bendingsignpost, 18.2k, medieval a/b/o au. cas is politically coerced into fighting in a courtship melee for prince dean's hand, and he teams up with two unexpected allies to do it. I KNOW HOW THE ABO THING SOUNDS but i swear it's done well - it's by bendingsignpost so ofc he puts his own spin on the premise. im absurdly into it. PLUS jack is in it!!!!!!! it's technically an unfinished series but the first part is so good just on its own

When pressed upon to mate for a political alliance, Commander Castiel dares to refuse his king. As “I do not wish to mate at all” is clearly the wrong thing to say, Castiel takes the other path and lies. “You must know my affections lie elsewhere, my king.”

King Michael studies Castiel’s face long and hard. Then, with a nod, he snaps his fingers, pointing to Castiel. “The Winchester omega.”

“Yes,” Castiel says with no real recollection of who that is.

The ruse of an unavailable omega works well enough, right up until that omega is no longer unavailable. Then, with what seems to be his entire nation cheering him on toward victory, Castiel must enter the melee to win his mate. Backed by allies, training, and his own natural talents, the only question is how well he can contrive to fail.

four letter word for intercourse by bendingsignpost, 194.7k, au. dean calls a sex hotline. OH BOY solid characterization excellent plot/premise like bendingsignpost is so good at turning absurd premises into realistic, believable fiction. also sex hotline fic is usually a BIG turn-off bc of the power dynamics/one-sidedness of a relationship based on sex work but. BUT. bendingsignpost does it well! it’s not weird at ALL i started reading and was immediately reassured abt its intentions and its plot direction

As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties.

What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right?

(It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.)

the tunnel of love by xylodemon, 21.4k, post-canon. case fic! dean and cas have to kiss on a loveboat to solve a case >:)

"We might," Cas starts slowly, pausing like he's choosing his words. "We might have to kiss."

Dean just stares at him.

when you have a future. by firebog, 17.6k, post-s8. dean and sam and cas learning to be human post-apocalypse. reminds me of robotmango’s writing! it’s kind of eccentric and very very sweet and funny.

Sam closes Hell. Castiel closes Heaven. The heroes save the day. There's no Heaven or Hell waiting to cause the next big disaster. There's no more end of the world. There's only a squirmy feeling in his chest that feels a lot like freedom. So, now what?

(Things I promise you in this fic: dog poetry, rabbits, and fluff)

six inch heels by alitneroon, 2.3k, canonverse. dean does drag! excellent fucking character study. prose is fantastic

Dean does drag on a whim, and ends up in way over his head.

sharing is caring by gateskeeper, 2.5k, canonverse. five times dean and cas shared something and one time they didn’t. look. sometimes u just need some saccharine tropey fluff. it’s VERY well written

Sam knows that Dean and Cas have shared a lot together, but ever since Cas became human permanently, it seems like they've been sharing a lot more.

Or: five times Dean and Cas shared something special and one time Dean refused to.

💖 empty spaces by schmerzerling, 60k, au. dean has to take care of his dying father, and takes up running to cope. that’s just the beginning. HEAVY trigger warnings for ED (specifically anorexia) and suicidal thoughts. there is a happy ending, but dean has to fight to make it there. god. okay. this is a dark fic. it’s also one of the most well-characterized fics i’ve ever read. dean’s spiral is excruciatingly accurate and written with the kind of wry compassion that comes from either extensive research or extensive experience. it’s also completely immersed in dean’s perspective - dean’s relationship w his dad, dean’s relationship w food scarcity, etc. it’s incredible. it’s kinda scary. it’s deeply sad. cas is explicitly autistic and it’s ALSO incredibly accurate and loving, and makes cas so true to his canon self. ugh. and i burst into TEARS at some of the accompanying art, which is so sparse and lonely and beautiful. 100/10 experience one of the best fics i’ve read this year

Dean is fine. The way he sees it, things are simple. He had a house and a family and food in his stomach, and now he doesn't. And yeah, that's a downer, but he's not going to let that stop him from being fine, because he's in control of the situation. He definitely doesn't need anyone to save him. And it's not like the weird guy with the nice butt from down the road is the knight-in-shining-armor type, anyway.

broken road by thegeminisage, 109.6k, 14x13 au. dean makes a wish and gets more than he bargained for. a lot of “john comes back” fics are kinda short on nuance, which this author has talked about a lot - and oh MAN does this fic deliver on nuance. john’s abuse is absolutely present, but his pov makes him a complex character instead of a flat caricature for dean to reject. and the way this fic resolves really makes it clear that the priority is dean’s emotional well-being over all else!!! this isn’t about dean taking the path fandom thinks he should take w his abuser (killing john, punching john in the face, etc), this is abt dean coming to terms w his abuse and finding his own emotionally satisfying way of resolving it. also dean and cas are in an established relationship and it’s very slow and sweet.

A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean's head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.

It's been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they're living with angels. John doesn't know angels are real, he doesn't know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn't know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean's plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.

Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can't answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end.

home is not a place by imogenbynight, 6.8k, post-s11. human cas struggles with belonging, and dean struggles with their relationship. this reads a lot like komodobits’ cuckoo and nest, but it’s its own sweet little thing. they watch movies!!! very cute

In which Dean is the oblivious one for a change.

love: a retrospective by xylodemon, 40.7k, post-s12. dean tries to deal w cas’ absence after s12 and reflects on their relationship thru the years. this was written before s13 aired, so - no spoilers - but jack plays a different role than he ends up playing in canon. it’s kinda fun seeing ppl’s theories pre-s13 tbh. makes me VERY glad that they took jack in the direction they did in show. anyway this is THEE definitive “they’ve been fucking all along” fic

Pretending Cas is just his friend has been the only thing keeping Dean's head on straight for years. He never realized how much doing that depended on him making himself scarce in the morning ─ not until Cas came back and moved into the bunker.

✨💖 if it all fell to pieces tomorrow by spocklee, 37k, post-s15 fix-it. cas gets broken out of the empty - and he immediately makes a break for it. new fave fix-it!!!! the writing is so understated and so straightforward - SO in character for cas tbh - that every single emotional beat feels like a PUNCH. and there are so many amazing character moments it made my chest seize the fuck up!!!!! perfect characterization perfect relationship moments perfect cas/jack parenting moments. the yearning over the phone is OFF THE CHARTS and spocklee makes the most of that tension!!!! PLUS old canon characters get to make fun appearances!!!!! i cannot recommend this shit enough

After the Empty, Cas has to spend some time alone. Orpheus tries to convince Eurydice over the phone that it’s okay to turn around now.

✨ before and after breakfast by spocklee, 10.5k, post-canon. dean and sam and cas tackle a monster of the week case with unexpected consequences. perfect pov perfect relationship moments SUCH GOOD TENSION. again this writing style just lets the tension dial up to 1000% every word is meaningful and it makes my chest hurt!!! spocklee SHOULD have blown up during the spn renaissance and i STAND by that

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

CLASSICS

isn't it cool how every person has diff fics they consider "classics?" anyway these are required fucking reading. if u've been around these will prob be old news.

💖 asunder by rageprufrock, 23k, au. dean and cas go to sam's wedding. i reread this once a year like a religious ritual.

Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. (Matthew 19:6)

💖 the girlfriend experience by rageprufrock, 15k, set during s5. dean teaches cas how to be human. mostly the sex part. literally the gold fucking standard of s4-5 era deancas fic and for deancas fic in general, personally

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

okay, cupid. by orange_crushed, 4.5k, au. dean tries to sign up for an ok cupid profile and has a revelation. as soon as i put this entry down i realized this entire fic rec was an exercise in futility, because if i could i'd literally just rec everything orange_crushed/robotmango has ever written. still one of THEE best authors in this fandom. go read all her fics. i’ll put the highlights here

"The dating thing?" Dean frowns. "Online dating is for weirdos. Robots. Dudes hanging out in their basements."

"You hang out in your basement."

"I have an air hockey table down there,” Dean says, icily.

💖 pwp: pie without plot by orange_crushed and majorenglishesquire, 82k, post-s8. sam and dean and cas quit hunting for a little bit to open a bakery. this is my comfort fic. i love it so so much.

he is in the kitchen with flour on his hands and an apron and there is flour on his forehead and cas leans across the counter and wipes it off with his thumb and dean says "thank you" and cas says "you’re welcome" very seriously and later dean makes apple turnovers and he only ruins them a little and sam realizes it’s not a real hunt like four days into it and he lets dean stay undercover for like a week and a half or longer maybe way longer because he is such a good everything

💖 la cucina by orange_crushed, 4k, post-s8. dean gets into cooking for a newly human cas. it's so gentle and loving and kind and makes me tear up every time. YES food is a comfort item and expression of love for dean. no i don't want to talk about it

Dean turns around and Castiel is picking through the jars, turning them over carefully to read the labels, totally engrossed. Dean watches him.

"Is there," Dean says, "uh, anything in there you like?" Castiel looks up at him and then back at the apples, sitting in a basket on the counter in their golden skins, ripe and pretty. Castiel smiles up at Dean.

"I don’t know yet," he says.

today, your barista verse by orange_crushed, 13.6k, coffeeshop au. a series of short sweet lovely fics where cas is a barista and dean is a smitten customer. literally the only coffeeshop au i respect

"Is that-"

"My number," says Dean, because he's a fucking champion, he's cool, he's collected, he's Captain Smooth of the USS Smoothtania, that's right. He is definitely not leaning against the counter for moral support. Cas doesn't looked seduced or impressed, though. He does not look like a dude who just met Captain Smooth and wants to ride the loveboat. He looks puzzled.

fata morgana. by orange_crushed, 6.6k, post-s9. dean is the king of hell. bela and cas team up to find him. bela pov. yeah you fucking heard that right BELA POV. BELA AND CAS!!!!!!!!!! makes me lose my mind i love everyone in this stupid desolate fucking hell wasteland.

The endless asphalt and broken road, the empty land and piles of human garbage, the unwanted ends of life, the cracked toys and broken screens and burning cars and gravel. Dean Winchester is the king of hell.

"Oh," says Bela.

That changes certain things.

💖 gran fury. by orange_crushed, 5k, pacific rim au. sam and cas pair up in a last ditch mission to save the world. permanently damaged me at age 15 and i've never recovered. major fucking angst warning.

They sit in silence and Castiel passes him the bottle. There’s not much left to say. Sam takes a gulp and it burns going down, like the cheap shit it is. He holds the bottle up against the light. He can see the Fury through it, distorted like a funhouse mirror. She’s a tomb but Sam loves her. Loves everything that’s left.

"To the end of the world," he says.

"To the end of the world," says Castiel.

💖 shut up (put your money where your mouth is) by kototyph, 24k, au. dean and cas get drunk married in vegas. dean renovates cas' house. this fic is SO MUCH BETTER than i remembered/expected and the entire series is fucking adorable go read it RIGHT now

Dean's done some pretty stupid things, but getting drunk-hitched in Vegas to a colleague he barely knows might just take the cake. His surprise husband, Castiel, is a little weird but likable despite that, and Dean figures they’ll go back to Boston, get a quiet annulment, and go their separate ways. Six weeks later, he’s still married to one of the strangest, most genuine and definitely most dangerously lov-- likable guys he's ever known. Dean doesn't know why or really even how it’s happening, but it’s getting harder and harder to remember that he has divorce papers to file.

not part of the plan by annie d (scaramouche), 338k, arranged marriage au. cas is slated to marry a noble from the winchester house. things spiral out of control. if you’re looking for an extensive well-developed political au, this is fucking it. i love reading about political machinations so this was FASCINATING to me.

Castiel's spent most of his adult life keeping his head down and staying out of trouble. This is a deliberate choice on his part, because as a cousin of the King, he'd rather stay unimportant and forgotten. This changes abruptly when King Michael decides that he has a better use for Castiel: he is to be wed to a noble member of the neighboring Republic, as part of an agreement between their two nations.

Castiel knows he has to obey, but that doesn't mean he won't rebel in what small ways he can. Unexpectedly, his actions end up having far-reaching consequences.

💖 all things shining by askance and standbyme, 142k, au. sam and dean and cas go on a hunt that's not really a hunt, and against all odds good things happen. it's beautifully written and has scenes that literally make my heart leap out of my chest with joy and awe it's just WONDERFUL it's a wonderful fic. incredible mythology too omg i found that the authors actually created the myth the entire story is based on - like they don’t pull a random one from history, they made one up THEMSELVES. they even self-published it on amazon if ur curious

Something in the world is waking up.

It isn’t long before it’s brought to the attention of the Winchesters and Castiel: miracles are spreading across the country, the paranormal seems to be shrinking back on itself—and it all has something to do with the missing prayer book of a traveling preacher who died over a century ago.

Dean is convinced it’s all the lead-up to another Apocalypse; Sam and Castiel aren’t so sure. Regardless, it sends them out on a less-than-typical road-trip, following the Mississippi and remnants of a very old story that seems increasingly to call to them. And along the way the trio learn much more about themselves—and the consequences and origins of love—than they’d ever have anticipated.

💖 broadway musical by griftings, 12.4k, crack. romcom where cas is supposed to play matchmaker to dean and jo and well. you know. it actually made me cackle out loud when i read it again so you know it's still good. absolutely one of the funniest fics i’ve read

This is the day that marked the Holy and Blessed Union of Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle.

The merging of prominent bloodlines is always a grand occurrence, but breeding pedigree hunter families like Winchester and Harvelle is something to be rejoiced. It is also something to be meticulously planned, which thankfully the Host is very good at.

Or, the romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general.

the five people you meet in heaven by chevrolangels, 22k, ambiguously canonverse. dean dies and goes to heaven and meets five people from his life. NOT a post-finale fic but still horrifically sad. i remember sobbing hysterically when i first read this so

Heaven is white.

Well. Isn’t that fucking stereotypical.

Dean isn’t really sure how he got here. Or even why he’s here. And hell, for all the times the Winchesters have died, he thinks he ought to know the drill by now. But what he doesn’t know is when most folks go, they find something different.

There’s a system God put in place. That when you’re gone (for good), there are a couple things you gotta do first. There are five people waiting for you.

They are the five people you meet in heaven.

any port in a storm by microcomets, 53k, post-s8. dean and cas go on a haunted cruise for a case. you know what happens next. also the art is by anobviousaside and it's gorgeous

The angels have fallen, leaving Castiel graceless and Dean with, well, more of other people’s problems. When a string of couples goes missing on the east coast, Dean and Cas decide to investigate—and find themselves trapped and hunted on a couples’ counseling cruise. Although battling monsters at sea is dangerous enough, sorting through emotional baggage proves to be far more deadly. (And, in which Cas embarks to find his missing grace and Dean is put out. Not necessarily in that order.)

a turn of the earth by microcomets, 95k, pre-canon au. cas is on the run from the empty and crash lands in dean's life. at one point he punches john in the face. a fucking beautifully written character study of pre-canon dean, honestly.

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

Frigging fantastic.

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

unfinished duet by microcomets, 5.8k, canonverse. sam observes dean and cas throughout the years. i remember this breaking my heart back in 2013!

Sam watches Dean and Cas over the years and notices a few things. (Or, Dean and Cas unscripted.)

💖 ergative/absolutive by glassedplanets, 8k, college au. dean and cas are best friends who meet in an astronomy class. i'm never not thinking about this fic it's so sweet and the friends to lovers is so soft and believable

He really shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this about his best friend who literally just broke up with his girlfriend, but he knows he’ll blame it on sleepiness in the morning. He always does.

a certain light by flightagain, 24k, au. cas works at the gas n sip. dean is a customer. this author’s writing style is so lonely and heavy but it’s very lovely

Castiel works at the Gas-n-Sip. There are half-price nachos and flickering lights, there are office-workers and werewolves stopping by for snacks. Dean is a frequent customer, and his office might be haunted.

the one thing you can’t lose by majorenglishesquire, 5k, ambiguously canonverse. dean can pull cas around and it’s adorable. character study-ish. very sweet.

You know what I like a lot? The thought that Dean can just tug Cas anywhere at any time and Cas, who can lift tons without effort, who can demolish things with the light of his grace, who has battled and gone to war, has defended and broken, will just let Dean do it.

brother lover by twentysomething, 4k, set during s4/s5. dean’s jealous of sam and cas’ budding relationship. this fic is so tropey but it does it well and it’s funny as fuck

However- and it doesn't happen a lot- they have to invoke 'I saw her first.’

his fucking kids by 8sword, 3k, canonverse au. dean and cas raise claire and emma together. yes, claire novak. yes, emma of 7x13 spice girls fame. this was the first kidfic i read for spn i think. obvs written before jack or claire actually came back into the picture but it was the TEMPLATE of kidfic for me for ages

Jesus, the school should just have a parking spot labeled, “Reserved for the Novak-Winchesters,” because Dean’s getting sick of having to cruise around the parking lot looking for a spot every time he gets a call from the principal about Emma.

💖 what has eight tentacles and isn’t allowed to eat pie? by annie d (scaramouche), 16k, post s8. dean gets turned into an octopus. another fic that was SO MUCH BETTER than i remembered i fucking love when that happens. it isn’t even about dean being an OCTOPUS like NO. NOT EVEN. it’s ACTUALLY about the bunker and building a home and a community and a family and about PHYSICAL COMFORT and you can actually feel the world expanding at the end of this fic like a gusty sigh of relief it’s SO WONDERFUL. kevin is in this fic. ellie is too and i had to look her up but THIS is her!!!! danay garcia u were too hot to stay on this show but i love you and miss u

Dean watched an anime porn about this once, but real life turns out to be way less interesting.

Or, the one where Dean gets turned into an octopus.

💖 a beginner’s guide to communing with the dead by suspiciousflashlight, 77k, canonverse au. dean is a cop who summons a powerful entity to help him solve a cold case. oh my god i can’t believe i didn’t put this on here i love this one so much. the writing bowls me over it’s so confident in its worldbuilding like you’re IMMEDIATELY plunged into dean’s pov (FLAWLESSLY executed throughout the fic btw) and you just learn about the world as you go!! and it’s such a fascinating world!!! i love the magic i love the typical bureaucratic red tape procedures i love normalizing the supernatural. i ESPECIALLY love monsters as normal people in a society. at one point there’s this exchange

“Monsters,” says Cas finally. “Beyond the Wall there are monsters.” “You mean, like, vampires and djinn and stuff?” Cas shakes his head. “Those aren’t monsters, those are just people.”

those lines have stayed with me for years. i think about them every time i rewatch an episode of spn.

Maybe it's the little girl whose disappearance turned into a murder, and whose murder turned into a cold case, and who has now apparently decided to move in with him. Maybe it's the unacceptable hole left in his life when his dumb best friend and partner in (the prevention of) crime decided to go and get himself killed. Maybe it's his brother, whose high-profile career and fantastic girlfriend and first-child-on-the-way are steadily leaving Dean in the dust. Pick one. Pick all of them. The why doesn't matter so much as the what, and the what is this: Dean is pretty sure he's going completely, certifiably insane. Sure, he hasn't started wearing all his clothes inside out, and he still showers on a regular basis (anyways, that's not crazy, just a little eccentric); but there's no getting around the fact that he just threw away his life, his career, and his reputation by dragging out his mom's old necromancy book and summoning a Class A Forbidden Entity to his attic. A cranky one, too. With horrendous bed-head.

dean’s list by almaasi, 3k, canonverse. dean makes a list. short and sweet. i read this so much in 2015 that it literally got engraved into my brain line by line and rereading it caused synapses to fire that havent felt anything in years

Dean writes out a list of men he would go gay for. Sam has a suggestion to make.

💖 the path of fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, post-s8. dean and cas open a charming bed and breakfast in vermont. no, literally. another CLASSIC. i think about the food in this fic all the time...........maple bacon baked french toast......the cinnamon rolls.....it literally sounds so good

After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years.

long nights in cold months by pyrebi, 2.3k, au. dean’s an insomniac and cas works at walmart. i forgot i had this fic ALSO basically memorized. holy shit. pineapple in the fruit aisle.....................anyway it’s short and sweet and the “plot” resolves in such a satisfying way

When you're an insomniac, you get used to the "what the hell are you doing up, man?" look. Dean just hopes the guy who's stocking the shelves will stop giving it to him long enough to help him find some damn pineapple.

incredibly single & ready to mingle by imogenbynight, 3.6k, au. dean and cas meet on facebook. short cute au!!!!!!

Sam uses Facebook like the social media junkie he is. He's befriended literally every person he's ever had a conversation with since he got an account, which means that approximately—Dean checks—eight hours ago, he shared this horrible photo with something in the vicinity of nine hundred people. The caption below the picture reads “incredibly single & ready to mingle ;)” and roughly half of them have liked it.

Dean has never been so embarrassed in his life.

💖 unknown quantities by xylodemon, 8.5k, post-s8. after a post-case tryst, dean has to figure out his and cas’ relationship. human cas fics hold a special place in my heart. funny AND good dean pov AND a misunderstanding that i actually think works!!!!!

No one ever tells Dean anything.

(or: Dean Winchester and the not-relationship crisis of 2014)

#spn fic #spn #dean x cas #this is horrifically long actually.

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lucas-koh · 4 years

Text

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC II

Also uploaded to Ao3! Go check it out there if you’d like my user is margotmuses

Doesn’t follow canon, but elements of canon. FWB.

Song: Feel Real - Deptford Goth

Rating: M

Word Count: 3409

Please check out chapter one first if you haven’t already!

Taglist: @lahellacute @tyrilsnightbloom @bubblelaureno

Chapter Two: Suki’s Flip-Flop, Intensive, Very Long Day

On a pretty big whim, Sienna, Jackie, Aurora, and Elijah had decided to look at apartments and move in together on the walk home from Donahue’s. Turned out none of their current living situations were ideal, and as crazy as it sounded, Suki felt like this might just work out. Weirder stuff had happened, right? She’d lived with complete strangers in college, so this was no huge thing, really. Over the following week they scored themselves an absolute bargain of a stunning top level apartment which overlooked the classic Boston skyline. Somehow, they’d managed to convince the landlord to rent to them for cheap, and soon enough everyone started to move their stuff in.

To celebrate their gorgeous new apartment, the group decided that they would throw a housewarming party at some point in the next few weeks. Planning was immense - everyone wanted to do something different, plus finding time where everyone would be off work was difficult. Elijah had never thrown a house party before, so he was overlooking most of the planning, while Sienna and Suki did tasks such as stocking up on cheap booze. Aurora didn’t really want to get involved in the planning side of things, too focused on her studies, but was looking forward to the party all the same. She was crazy grateful to be able to move away from her overbearing aunt. Jackie also wasn’t so involved in the planning, but more out of lack of interest in making plans. After a week or so, they’d decided on a date. All that was left to do was to invite everyone. And, yeah, that pretty much meant everyone.

Suki’s mind had been pretty occupied, mostly by a certain sun-kissed surgeon who’d swayed her to The Stone Roses. Since that first night, Suki had only seen Bryce in passing in the corridors, always taking lunch breaks and the like at different times due to the different demands of their jobs. He’d wink or grin at her and for a moment she’d be completely focused on only that. Not to mention the all-consuming sexual chemistry they had with each other being sparked each time they merely passed by one another. She was continuously bothered by the strange familiar feeling she felt with him, increasingly frustrated that she couldn’t pin it down.

About two and a half weeks in, Suki was suffering from an absolutely awful day. None of her patients were looking at a positive outcome, and she was feeling utterly helpless about it all. Existentialism: Doctor’s edition. She’d shut herself away in a supply closet to be alone with her thoughts. And to cry. What good was being doctor if you couldn’t save lives? And everything felt like a minefield. One wrong move and it could all implode. Misdiagnoses were so easy to make and so incredibly dangerous, she could prescribe someone a medicine they were allergic to and make their symptoms broaden, or even just upsetting someone because there was nothing she could do. She worried she wasn’t ready for this job. It was all very well reading up about illnesses and treatments, but actually putting it into practice? Dealing with real life people? So incredibly intimidating.

Abruptly the door creaked open and Suki jumped back.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t… think anyone was in here.” It was Bryce. Of course it was. He looked just as good as ever, framed in the dark by the light from the hall. “I just needed to get some suture kits...”

“It’s fine, just shut the door,” her voice cloyed but she tried to subtly wipe the tears from her eyes.

He did as she asked and came closer towards her. Even though it was dark, he noticed the red rings round her eyes and wet cheeks.

“Hey, hey. What’s going on?” His voice was soothing and gentle, his usual cocky demeanours put on a shelf.

“It’s just… I feel like I have too much power. I pretty much get to decide who lives or dies. I get to decide which words to use to ruin someone’s life I-“ she couldn’t help it as the tears began to pour out again. She wasn’t sure why she was baring her soul to Bryce, but something in her knew he would know what to say. He stood and listened, watching patiently. Bryce stepped in so he was closer to Suki.

“If I tell someone I’ll save their life, but I can’t, how am I supposed to live with myself? How do I tell a parent their six-year-old will never see it to seven? Bryce…” she continued, her eyes were wide and glassy as she stared up at him. Hearing her say his name like that stirred something in Bryce he wasn’t quite comfortable admitting.

“I know. But you’re damn good at your job, Suki. If you tell someone you’ll save their life, and you do, how do you not believe in yourself? How do you tell an old man he’s in remission? There are so many good parts to this job. It’s hard as shit, yeah, but we knew that. It was never going to be easy.” He lifted up his free hand and ran his thumb softly along her eyes to clear her tears.

“But it’s my fault. If I fail a patient... Maybe I shouldn’t be here.”

He laughed a brief hearty chuckle. “You made It through med school, climbed your way to the top of the medical interns at Edenbrook, and you really think you’re in the wrong place? I’ve seen those rankings, Moore. You’re good crop.”

She gave him a lopsided smile. His confidence had a way of rubbing off on her.

“Every doctor has their moment of doubt. It’ll pass.” He continued.

“How do you do it?”

He shrugged. “I just know I’m damn good at what I do. It’s still early days, Suki. Just let it come and go.”

She nodded and felt the desire to hug him. Lucky for her, he held his arms out to her and she collided with his hard chest, again. She still had her arms crossed in front of her, but moved to cradle her head into the crook of his neck, shifting her body so she was leaning into him. Bryce’s arms enveloped her, like a large, hard, teddy. She felt like a baby, cocooned and cooed at by the light soothing motion Bryce was drawing down her back. It felt like the most natural thing.

“Shit. I guess you are damn good at what you do,” she said. Her voice was muffled by Bryce’s scrub top, but he heard her all the same, and couldn’t help but grin at the girl in his arms.

“I told you, I’m a talented guy.”

She pulled her head back after a minute, looking up into his brown eyes, which were honey like his skin usually, but deep and alluring in the dimmed light of the supply closet. His arms still cradled her.

She suddenly wanted to tangle her fingers into his hair and kiss him passionately. Because despite the snark, the ego, the cockiness, he’d made her feel better after an incredibly difficult day. And there was definitely something scandalous about being in a supply closet together. The thick sexual tension that had been whirring for two weeks now was at an all time high. Her eyes flirted down to his plump lips, still ghosted with a smile. Her heart was pumping right out of her chest, she was surprised he couldn’t feel it against his own. The chemistry could be cut with a knife. She tightened her arms around herself as she made the flash decision. Without giving him too much time to back out, Suki swiftly moved forward and pressed her lips to his.

He hesitated at first, still as stone, giving Suki a moment to freak out – shit, he doesn’t want to be doing this. I made the wrong call - before he pushed his lips back into hers with fervent want. They reacted to each other like it was something that had been simmering for way longer than just two and half weeks. Their mouths clambered almost clumsily around each other. Bryce’s hands moved up her back and to her neck with a caress, before he steered her round and pushed her up against the shelves. A few bits of equipment fell down, but they didn’t care. Suki pulled him as close to her as she could, hands gripping his waist. She could feel his muscles move under her fingers as they kissed, which sent a jolt through her stomach. She was actually kissing him. For some reason, the idea felt unattainable and the fact that it was happening felt fantastical.

His lips were soft but applied pressure, his tongue demanding and dominating. Suki let out an unintentional moan, causing a gruff noise from Bryce’s throat, and she could feel him smiling against her lips. Caught up in the passion of the moment, and wanting to savour every part of this, Suki lifted up a leg and wrapped it around Bryce’s hip. He responded by pressing his body tighter against hers and removing a hand from her neck to support her leg, copping a feel of her backside on the way there.

Suki didn’t even care that the shelves were digging into her back. All she cared about in that moment was getting as much as she could out of Bryce. Because, god, was he hot. His kisses were practised and skilled, clearly something he’d done a lot. She pulled him closer towards her, and he removed his lips from hers to burrow his face into her neck and suck at that sweet spot. She gasped at the sensation, earning a cocky chuckle from Bryce. If he gave her a hickey, she was dead.

To avoid that possibility, she pulled his face from her neck to meet her lips again, deepening the kiss, and finally threading her fingers through his floppy hair in the way she’d wanted to before.

A loud creak and unexpected light falling on her shut eyelids indicated that the door had been opened. Suki opened her eyes wide and looked over to the door to see an older Doctor. Oh god. She knew this guy. Dr Zaid Mirani – her attending. The leg which had been round Bryce’s hip dropped immediately.

“Can you give us a minute?” Bryce asked, frustrated, eyes shut and forehead against Suki’s, not giving a single shit that they’d just been caught in the act, not even bothering to see who it was.

“I need some scissors. Don’t let me stop you,” Zaid snapped.

At this, Bryce sighed and stepped away from Suki. Suki tried turning away coyly so that Zaid didn’t see her face, moving away from the shelves to give him access. There was a deafening awkward silence as Zaid rummaged through the shelves to find what he needed, Suki looking anywhere but at either of the men in the room. Bryce’s eyes watched her, flattening her hair down on her head and smoothing down her clothes.

After what felt like far too long, Zaid left without a word. The door shut behind him and Bryce and Suki were sent back into dim light. She looked over to Bryce finally, who was leaning against a cupboard with his hands in his pockets, a humorous smile playing on his lips. Even in the dark he looked good, hair ruffled from her fingers and lips swollen from relentless kissing. Ah, shit. He looked so good. Unlike Suki, he hadn’t taken the time to refine his appearance. But, she kind of liked it that way.

“That kinda killed the mood,” he said, pushing off the cupboard.

“…yeah. We should get back to work, anyway,” replied Suki. She was hot from embarrassment, again. This boy sure knew how to get her flustered, both unintentionally and intentionally. That kiss sure had some intention behind it. It had been a nice distraction, and admittedly she felt much better, but it was time to get back to reality.

He chuckled and scratched his thumb over his chin. He didn’t seem embarrassed at all. Then again, asking a resident to leave so they could continue their steamy make-out didn’t strike Suki as something someone who was easily embarrassed would do. Unluckily for her, Suki was a stickler for humiliation. Maybe hooking up with Dr Bryce No-Fear wasn’t something a blubbering blushing mess should repeat.

Bryce walked toward Suki, and she almost jumped back, worried he might try again. For a couple of reasons: worried they’d be caught again, and Suki would never live it down with herself, but also worried she wouldn’t be able to stop at a sensible place. He was too sexy, and too experienced. But he reached behind Suki to grab a suture kit. The whole reason he’d even been here in the first place. He held it up to show her, before making his way to the door.

“You’ll kill it out there, Dr. Moore,” he reassured before opening the door, letting the light flood the room again, and shutting it behind him once again leaving Suki in the dimness.

She crept out of the supply closet, not looking where she was going and accidentally ramming straight into Jackie.

“You look a mess!” Jackie laughed, noting Suki’s scruffed up hair and creased scrubs.

Suki cursed herself internally as she once again started to sweat.

“Oh! Long day, is all. I’m only halfway through, too!”

Jackie side-eyed her blustery response. “I’ve got to get this shot to this patient. You’re lucky this time, Moore.”

—-

A couple of hours later, Suki was finally grabbing a bite to eat when she received a page from Aurora.

Suki rushed into the room, where Aurora was already debriefing the resident. Shit. It was Zaid. She prayed that he hadn’t caught her face before, that it had been too dark and she’d turned away quick enough that he hadn’t recognised her.

“Hey, Aurora. What’s the situation?” She breathed out, exhausted from speeding up there. Aurora looked grateful as she turned to Suki.

“Moore,” Zaid greeted tightly. Something told her that he had definitely seen her face earlier. He didn’t seem like the type to bring it up, though.

“Ms. Redford was admitted for a broken neck, but her blood work looks incredibly strange…”

—-

“So, Dr Mirani’s a pretty grumpy guy, but why do I feel like there was a reason he was short with you earlier?” Aurora asked as the walked down the corridor to their next patient. Damn her for being smart and perceptive.

Suki weighed up whether or not to tell Aurora. It might be quite nice to have someone on her side, to tell all the awkward stories. She hadn’t done the whole secret make-out since college, and back then, she had a roommate to gossip about it with. At the end of the day Suki still barely knew Aurora; sure, they lived together, but they hardly even had a chance to be at the apartment together with their different shifts and the like. And when they weren’t at work, they were sleeping or eating. Maybe that meant telling her would feel like less of a big deal? Then again, even the idea of saying it was making her cringe. Plus, Aurora was great but she might not be too impressed that Suki had been taking time out of work to make-out with a surgical intern. In a supply closet which anyone could walk in on. And, had walked in on. A senior attending. She decided against it.

“I don’t know. I just don’t think he likes me much,” she wasn’t a very good liar, which Aurora seemed to glean; but she didn’t push further.

—-

After what felt like the most exhausting day ever - having difficult patients, a mental breakdown in a supply closet, a hot make out session in the same supply closet, being caught by her attending, and then having hours more of gruelling work – Suki threw herself onto her bed dramatically. It felt like her whole body, including her internal organs, was on fire. She eventually got up to change into her pyjamas, clean her face, and brush her teeth. There was a knock on her door. She opened it to reveal it was Elijah.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked, it looked like he’d been home a while. Suki was happy to see him nonetheless.

“Just winding down after work, you know.”

“Yeah, today was a long one,” he added awkwardly.

“Tell me about it.”

He seemed like there was something he knew, or wanted to say, but didn’t.

“Movie?” Elijah asked.

“Sure, I might pass out though.”

She followed Elijah to the sofa and let him load up Netflix. She pulled off the fluffy blanket from the arm and snuggled into the crook of the sofa, next to Elijah’s chair. They put on a classic romcom and settled in to watch it, everyone else either asleep or working. Suki and her other roommates had become close quickly, but she still felt she wanted to bond more with them, get to know them better. She truly loved each one of them, and they each had their own personal qualities which enriched the group.

“So-“ Elijah finally came out with about a quarter of the way in, only to turn and see Suki had passed out.

Elijah tucked her in on the sofa and shut the TV off so she wouldn’t be disturbed. He would have to talk to her again another time. He wheeled away into his own bedroom.

—-

Around an hour later, Suki woke with a stir, taking a moment to recognise her surroundings. She must’ve fallen asleep here, and she noticed how she was tucked into the blanket. Elijah. How was she ever going to bond more with her flat mates If she couldn’t even stay awake to watch a movie with them? She sighed, folding up the blanket to place on the sofa arm again, and made her way into her own bed.

In the dark of the night, Suki’s thoughts wandered to Bryce’s lips on hers, his hands on her neck, his lips on her neck, his body close to hers…

She thought about that smirk and that laugh, the way his hair felt under her fingers, his taut stomach muscles under her hands. The way he tasted clean, faintly minty, the smoothness of his lips on her own. The feeling of her leg wrapped round his hip. If Zaid hadn’t interrupted when he had, Suki wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to stop. Truthfully, it had been a while since she’d slept with anyone, and a while since she’d actually been so sexually attracted to someone.

But she tried not to think about it. He’d helped her out of a tight spot earlier, and she’d thanked him. Now, she would have to put in all her effort to be a better doctor. Not try to sleep with the other interns. No matter how sexy their body and face and demeanour was. She wondered why he’d been so kind to her, taken the time to reassure her and validate her thought. Perhaps just a ploy to get that kiss, or something more, but Suki wasn’t really sure she cared if it had been. Even so, he’d seemed genuine. She supposed he was a doctor after all, helping people was second nature to him.

Come to think of it, the way they’d kissed in the supply closet struck that odd feeling in her again. How did she know him? Did he know her? Was she just superimposing someone else on to him to make him more appealing to her carnal desires and more of a mystery to solve? Maybe it was that if she let herself get hung up in this completely farcical idea, she could ignore what she was really thinking about deep down: her failures as a doctor.

So, maybe she didn’t know Bryce at all. She just liked how he looked and wanted there to be something. They say if you desire something, it pops up everywhere. So, those feelings of déjà vu, maybe they were all in her head. Or maybe she was just spiralling, after the ridiculously lengthy and eventful day. Her eyelids started to drop unintentionally. Maybe she would think about this tomorrow, instead…

#bryce lahela #open heart #open heart fanfiction #bryce lahela fanfiction #bryce x mc #playchoices open heart #open heart fic #oph spoilers #choices open heart #oph #choices: open heart #open heart fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices #choices: stories you play #bryce lahela x mc #dr bryce lahela #bryce Lahela fic

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deanstop13billyjoeltraxx · 3 years

Text

Superposition

a deancas college roommate AU

Chapter 10 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here.

Wanting is Enough

“You goin’ home for Christmas?” Dean asked.

They were walking back to the dorm after dinner. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving, a holiday for which neither Cas nor Dean had bothered to travel home.

“No,” Cas said. “I don’t believe I’m welcome at my father’s house anymore.”

Dean glanced sideways at him as they entered the stairwell. “Why? ‘Cause you’re gay?’ He asked.

Cas shrugged. “If he knows now, from Bartholomew or Hannah, then that certainly doesn’t help my case.” He sighed. “No, when he found out I was attending college and not entering ministry, he told me I shouldn’t come home again.”

Dean held the exit door open as Cas walked onto their floor. “When did that happen?” He asked.

“I kept the entirety of my college application process a secret. Only Anna knew,” Cas said. “She’s the only other sane person in my family. I made the mistake of informing the rest of them about it at dinner sometime in July.” He gave Dean a wry smile as they entered their room. “None of them were particularly thrilled.”

“You told them about the full ride and everything?”

“Yes.”

“And your old man still kicked you out?”

“The same night.”

Dean snorted. “Dumbass.”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips. “You could say that.”

“Where’d you go after that?” Dean asked.

“Well, Anna was already living alone, down in Norman. She was at the University of Oklahoma,” he added by way of explanation. “I just stayed with her until August.”

Dean nodded. “She sounds cool. What’s she doing now?”

Cas broke into a grin. “She lives in North Carolina, now. She’s a therapist.”

Dean smirked at him. “So your ass is constantly getting psychoanalyzed?”

“I suppose.”

Dean slumped into the beanbag with a sigh. Cas remained at the door, leaning his weight against it.

“What about you?” He asked after a beat. “Are you returning home for Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, smiling. “Well, it’s kinda complicated. I am going home, like, my actual home. Lawrence. We spend Christmas with some family friends.” Dean paused, looking thoughtful. “They’re really more family than friends. Bobby and Ellen and Ellen’s kid Jo. Bobby and Ellen were both friends with my dad.”

“Will your father and brother be there?”

Dean’s look darkened, if only slightly. “Dad’s not coming. The whole thing started ‘cause he got tired of trying to pretend to like the holidays after Mom died. Decided to pawn us off on his old friends. But yeah, Sammy’ll be there.”

Cas gave him a nod and pushed off from the door. While he was disappointed that Dean would be gone for winter break, he was relieved, too. That was three weeks sans-Dean, more than enough time for Cas to work through his little crush. The solitude would be good, he told himself. Cas figured he could fast-track the five stages of grief, and by the time Dean returned, Cas would be the best friend he deserved. Cas sighed to himself as he rifled through his closet for a towel and a change of clothes. He was grabbing bottles of shampoo and body wash when Dean cleared his throat.

“You know,” he said slowly, like the words were difficult to force out, “You could… I mean, I’m sure everyone wouldn’t mind if you came to Christmas.”

Cas whirled around to face Dean, who was picking at a loose thread on the beanbag.

“What?” He asked, a little too loudly.

“Since you’re not goin’ home,” Dean said. “You know, it sucks to spend Christmas alone. ‘Specially in this dump,” he added, gesturing generally to the small room.

“Are you inviting me to spend Christmas in Lawrence? With you?”

Dean gave a short laugh. “I guess it is kinda dumb. Yeah, nevermind.”

“No, I’d like that,” Cas rushed out. He blinked at his own words. He was supposed to be avoiding Dean as often as possible, not spending three uninterrupted weeks in his hometown. “It sounds nice,” Cas added weakly, despite the fact that it definitely did not.

Dean looked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Dean broke into the biggest grin Cas had ever seen. “Dude, it’s going to be awesome. I can’t wait for everyone to meet you.” Dean stood up with and pulled Cas in for a hug, clapping him on the back twice. Cas winced, letting out a feeble chuckle as he returned the hug reluctantly. He was trying not to notice the warmth of Dean pressed against him, or the absence of it when they parted.

“Are you pissed at me?”

It was the Wednesday before finals started. They were quietly eating dinner when Dean threw the question at Cas, who coughed into his water.

“What?” He sputtered.

Dean rubbed the back of his head. “I dunno, man, I just feel like I never see you anymore.”

Guilt crashed into Cas like a freight train. He had been absent, more absent even than before Thanksgiving. Part of it was out of necessity — finals were fast approaching, and he was intent upon an all-A’s first semester. But the hours at the library were stacked on top of the hours he spent in class and the hours he spent simply staying away from his room.

“I apologize,” Cas said, and he couldn’t keep the earnestness from his voice. “I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I have two final papers, three exams, and two final projects coming up before the break.”

“No, man, I get it,” Dean said with a shrug. “You’re busy. Sorry, that was kinda uncalled for. All in my head, you know.”

Cas wanted to tell him that it was completely called for, that what Dean was feeling was valid, that he was being selfish and rude and a whole number of terrible things for avoiding Dean. But he couldn’t, because that would mean promptly declaring soul-destroying love for his best friend, right there in the middle of the dining hall. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he mumbled.

Cas had thought that it was getting easier, being around Dean. He’d basked in the feeling of being not just someone’s best friend, but Dean’s best friend, after Halloween, and that was enough. And while he was still avoiding spending long hours in their room, he felt like he was well on his way to making peace with the unrequited.

But then, they’d gotten drunk on the night of Thanksgiving. Cas didn’t remember much besides waking up in a tangled heap with Dean on the floor of their room. He’d been successful in extricating himself from the strange embrace before Dean regained consciousness, and thank god for that. But the situation lived rent-free in Cas’s mind. It made things considerably more difficult.

And then there was the prospect of travelling to Lawrence to spend Christmas with Dean and his family. Cas really hadn’t wanted to spend the holiday alone, and was, on the one hand, thankful for the invitation. On the other, his anxiety was mounting. That trip meant there was absolutely no avoiding Dean for at least three weeks; not to mention the fact that he was meeting the group of people most important to Dean.

So if Cas was making extra efforts to put space between himself and his roommate, it was not unwarranted.

They finished eating and made their way back to the dorms. Dean was complaining about his own finals, and while Cas tried his hardest to remain engaged, his heart wasn’t in it. He was angry at himself. Even when he felt like he was succeeding, he was failing.

“Cas,” Dean said. Cas had just let them into the room, but Dean was standing resolutely in the hallway.

“Yes?” Cas responded.

“Are you… I know I already asked, but man, something’s off,” Dean rushed out. “Is — Is this about Christmas? ‘Cause —”

Cas interrupted him. “No, Dean. I’m excited to spend Christmas with you and your family.”

Dean smiled weakly, but it was brief. “I just — you’re never around, man,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “I feel like I fucked something up somehow.”

Cas knew Dean well enough by now to know there were things he was trying to say without saying them. His heart broke to know that I miss you was likely one of them.

“I promise, you’ve done nothing wrong,” Cas said. “I’m just concerned about my finals.” Lie.

Dean looked at him with skepticism. “Okay,” he said finally.

Another twinge of guilt soared through him, but he didn’t say anything more, just gathered his things for a shower. Dean still hadn’t come into the room when Cas pushed past him and made his way to the bathroom.

When he returned, Dean was gone, but Cas saw a notification on his phone.

DW (7:32 pm)

went out back later

Cas narrowed his eyes at the short message, but typed out a reply anyway.

CN (7:34 p.m.)

Okay. Be safe. Don’t forget, there’s class tomorrow.

He sat down at his desk and opened his computer. He tried studying for his accounting final, but the words and equations might have been hieroglyphics for all that he was absorbing them. Cas sighed and pulled up the final project description for his creative writing class instead.

It was his favorite class by far. In high school, Cas focused on writing short stories, mostly adapted from real life. His notebooks were his confidants, the product of never having a close friend. But now, he was challenged to write other things; poetry, scripts, memoirs. Cas lived for the challenge, finally able to stretch new creative muscles. And while his attempt at drama had received mixed reviews from his professor and peers alike, his other works were well-received. He’d never shared his writing with anyone, and to hear others enjoyed it was something Cas cherished.

But this final project, it was difficult. The professor had tasked them with writing a 1000-word story in prose and adapting it into both a drama and a poem. The goal was to tell the same story in each genre. Cas couldn’t even think of a scene he might want to write, let alone how he was going to move fluidly between genres.

He sighed, and began to list out possible ideas. When it became clear that he wasn’t getting anywhere, he closed his notebook and moved onto something less intense. He reviewed his econ notes for an hour, got started on his final paper for literature.

After hitting a solid halfway point on his first draft, he checked his phone again. It was already midnight. Cas frowned. Dean was known to stay out late on the weekends, but it was Wednesday. Cas knew Dean had a nine-a.m. history class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He also knew that Dean wouldn’t make it to said class if he was out much later. He sent him a text.

CN (12:03 a.m.)

Are you all right?

Cas hit the bathrooms to brush his teeth and get ready for bed before checking his phone. His worry only increased when he saw that Dean hadn’t replied. He sent another text, hoping he didn’t seem too overbearing.

CN (12:11 a.m.)

Just making sure you’re alive.

He decided that if Dean didn’t respond in the next ten minutes, he’d call, regardless of how ridiculous he might sound.

Cas paced around the room, picking up what little stray trash they had left lying out. He was about to take out his phone again to check the time when it started vibrating on his desk. He picked it up eagerly, but frowned at the unknown number. Cas considered letting it ring out, but he hit the “accept” button at the last second. He didn’t say anything as he held the phone up to his ear, expecting a wrong number.

His eyes went wide when Dean rasped, “Cas?”

“Dean?” Cas replied, trying to keep panic out of his voice. “What — Why are you calling me from this number?”

“Phone’s dead,” he said, sounding exhausted. “I hate to do this to you, man, but… Just — goddammit — can you come get me?”

“What?”

“I’m just — I’m at the corner of seventeenth and Gentry.”

“Don’t you have a DD?” Cas asked. Dean had never called him to pick him up from a party. He always made sure someone was sober, or he called an Uber.

“No,” Dean sighed.

“Seventeenth and Gentry?” He repeated, and he heard Dean murmur something in affirmation. Cas made a turn for his car and said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He hung up.

Cas tried to drive at a normal speed, but it was difficult. Dean had left abruptly, and while Cas hadn’t thought to question it, it now seemed glaringly out-of-character. Dean had never partied in the middle of the week, and he certainly had never gone drinking by himself. Every red light kicked his anxiety up a notch.

After the interminable drive, Cas finally arrived at the corner Dean had directed him to, a small bar with WSU flags plastered everywhere. Cas drove past the front of the building slowly, but couldn’t find Dean there. Finally, he saw a phone booth just past the bar’s street parking, and he coaxed the car forward. Dean was leaning against its side, a cigarette in his mouth. He hadn’t brought a jacket, and it was barely thirty degrees out. Cas turned up the heat in the car as he unlocked the passenger door.

Dean put out the cigarette and slid in without a word. Cas hit the gas and started the drive back to the dorms.

Neither said a word in the ten minutes it took Cas to reach campus. The only sounds were the roar of hot air from the vents and the low groan of the engine. Cas kept his eyes in front of him, never once daring to glance at Dean.

When they reached the lot, Cas threw the gear shift into park and folded his hands in his lap. He stared at his own interlaced fingers, willing Dean to speak first, not wanting to ask the question.

Dean didn’t speak, though, just opened the car door and stepped out. Cas saw a light flicker through the passenger window, and suppressed a groan as he realized Dean had lit another cigarette. Typical, Cas thought, and he was suddenly annoyed. It occurred to him that if their places were switched, Dean would be hounding him, demanding that Cas tell him everything, because he always did. Anytime Cas seemed the slightest bit off, Dean was there, asking questions, being the good friend that he was. But now? Now, he expected Cas to leave it alone, to let him suffer with whatever was bothering him. Cas took a few steadying breaths, then turned the engine off and got out.

“Dean,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral, “What the hell?”

Dean didn’t answer, just took a long drag, his gaze aimed resolutely ahead. Cas huffed and crossed his arms.

“You… You can’t just ask me to come pick you up from a bar and not offer an explanation,” Cas said.

“Sorry,” Dean muttered.

Cas let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, well, that’s perfectly adequate,” he scoffed.

“What else am I supposed to say?” Dean demanded.

Cas stared at him, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, his jaw set. “I’m going to bed.

“What?” Dean asked, finally looking at Cas.

Cas shrugged. “I’m obviously wasting my time.”

Another drag. An exhale.

“My dad called while you were in the shower.”

The irritation shifted, almost immediately, to concern. “Your father called you?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

Dean tapped his cigarette against his leg. “Mostly to remind me what a piece of shit I am.”

Cas remained silent, allowing Dean the space to form whatever his next thought might be.

“I guess…” Dean rubbed his free hand over his forehead. “I guess Sam let it slip that I was bringing you to Bobby’s for Christmas.”

Cas cocked his head. “And that’s… Problematic?”

Dean exhaled another plume of smoke. “Yeah,” he said. He let out a mirthless laugh. “He said he didn’t get it, that if I was bringing anyone home, it should be a girlfriend, not…” Dean trailed off.

Cas felt the blood leave his face. “He thinks —”

“Yeah.”

“Dean, I don’t have to come,” Cas said. It would be better for both of us. “I’ll be perfectly fine here. I appreciate the offer, I do, but I don’t want to make life more difficult for you than necessary.”

Dean looked at him, finally, and he was all shadow and exhaustion. “No, he’s not gonna be there. You’re coming,” he said resolutely, and Cas tried not to let the disappointment show. “Plus, that wasn’t all of it. He’s pissed that I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving. Said something about how I was dishonoring my mom’s memory or something.”

Cas was silent for a moment. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“What do you mean?”

“At the bar,” Cas clarified. He couldn’t tell how drunk Dean really was, but based on that recent revelation, he could guess.

Dean furrowed his brow. “What?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I had like three beers. I was planning on going full blackout, but then you reminded me about class.”

Cas almost smiled at that, because it was almost funny. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Decide to get blackout drunk just because your father incorrectly assumed you were bringing me — bringing a male partner to a Christmas he wouldn’t even attend?”

Dean frowned. “I don’t — I don’t know,” he said, and he sounded almost surprised at his own answer.

Cas was treading on thin ice, he knew that. But he kept up anyway. “I don’t want to overstep,” he said slowly, “But, Dean, your father… It doesn’t seem like he’s taken the time to get to know you. The real you, not the version he wants you to be, or the version he projects onto you.”

When Dean didn’t stop him, he continued. “And you don’t owe him anything, not anymore. You’re here, aren’t you? All on your own. He has no power over you. And, I’m only assuming, but I believe that might terrify him. Because not only do you no longer need him, but you may choose not to want him.”

Cas let out a small laugh. “Believe me, I know how difficult it is to stop putting stock in what your father thinks. It took me years to accept that I had done nothing wrong, that my father was, and always would be, a bigot. I… I’m still working on it, even now,” he admitted. Cas sighed. “But my life has been better, easier, since I stopped trying to please someone who hardly even knew me.”

Dean’s expression changed, and he blinked. He was still looking in Cas’s direction, but not at him. Past him, at some unknown subject. Cas took a step toward him.

“Dean?”

“I don’t need him,” Dean whispered.

“Are you all right?” Cas asked, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean let out a huff, overflowing with something like realization. “I never thought about that before. It’s not like he’s ever tried to talk to me.” Dean threw his cigarette on the asphalt and stomped it out. A breathy chuckle escaped his lips, and he wrapped his hands around his midsection. “You know, I used to try so hard to be like him.” Dean tilted his head toward the sky. “I listened to his music, I dressed like him. Hell, I even started talkin’ like him.

“It was never enough, you know? I always fucked up. Sam didn’t get to school on time, or I forgot milk at the grocery store. I just, I dunno. I know he loves me. But I always wanted him to like me, too, you know?”

“I do.”

“Oh man, you should’ve seen him when he found out I’d been hiding money away to go to college,” Dean said, laughing darkly. “I thought I was gonna go to school with a black eye for a week.”

“He hit you?” Cas asked, horrified.

“What? No, no,” Dean said quickly. “I just thought he might.”

Cas let out a breath. There was one crime John Winchester hadn’t committed. “What do you mean, hiding money?”

“Dad never really had a steady job, not after our mom died,” Dean explained. “That’s why we moved around a lot. When I was fourteen, I started working. Chickenshit stuff, mostly. Mowing lawns and detailing cars until I was old enough to start flippin’ burgers.” Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “The money was supposed to go to rent and food, but I started putting most of it aside, just in case, you know? I had enough for a year of college by the time I was a senior. I figured I could get loans and stuff for the rest.”

“And when you told him, he got angry?”

Dean only nodded, now staring intently at the ground. Cas didn’t say anything more, knowing Dean had probably just unloaded more trauma than he’d even known he had. Finally, though, Dean’s gaze met his.

“But I don’t need him,” he repeated.

“You don’t.”

“He’s nothing, unless I want him to be something,” Dean said slowly, and his eyes were growing triumphant. “Cas, you’re a genius.”

“If you say so.”

“You learn all that stuff from your sister? The one with a degree in ‘dealing with crazy fuckers’?”

Cas smiled. “Maybe,” he said. “And therapy isn’t just for ‘crazy fuckers.’”

Dean smirked at him. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say ‘fuck’.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “It’s cold out here,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, okay.”

As they walked, Cas felt latent anger curl in his stomach. Dean hadn’t told Castiel much about his home life, not until that night. He understood, now, why Dean could so easily take care of others, but needed three beers and a cigarette to show his own vulnerabilities. In his eighteen years, had Dean ever been told that he was enough? The possibility that he hadn’t awakened something in Cas, some righteous fury.

He chided himself internally. How much of his selfish avoidance scheme had contributed to those feelings of inadequacy? He’d rather burn with the pain of unrequited love forever than let Dean think he wasn’t enough.

When they reached the entrance to their dorm, Cas put a hand on Dean’s arm. “Are you okay, Dean?” He asked.

Dean let out a long breath. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I’m okay. I really am.” He said it like it might have been the first time he’d ever meant it.

Cas woke up at two in the morning from a particularly vivid dream. His breathing was heavy with the shock of waking up so suddenly. Dean was breathing slow and even across the room, still entirely asleep.

Cas shook his head a little. The dream had felt so real that it had left a residual burning feeling in his hand. He stared at it, but it remained entirely human.

Abruptly, he remembered his creative writing project. A short story, something he could turn into a poem and a stage scene. A lightbulb went off in his brain.

Cas lowered himself from his bed and hurriedly opened his computer. He had to get this down as soon as possible. Cas replayed the dream in his mind as his computer booted up. He supposed it might be a little strange, to turn this story in as his final project, considering it was somewhat of a self-insert. But it had everything he needed.

Finally, he opened a blank document and began to write the first draft. Cas wrote down everything he could remember from the dream, sights and sounds and feelings. With each word, his excitement grew. He’d never felt this way about a writing project, like the story demanded to be told.

Cas hit word count and kept going, because the story was building itself larger and larger. He didn’t even notice how long he’d been working until Dean’s six-a.m. alarm went off.

Dean groaned and rolled over in his bunk. He said something, but Cas didn’t hear, too intent upon getting the words in his head onto the page.

“Hey,” Dean said, raising his voice. “Stephen King, what the hell?”

Cas didn’t turn from the computer screen. “Good morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

Dean groaned. “Like the dead,” he said sarcastically. “How long you been up?”

Cas checked the time. “Somewhere around four hours,” he said.

“Four — you’ve been up since two?”

“Yes.”

Dean blanched and swung himself down from his bed. “Dude, that means you got, max, an hour and a half of sleep.” He made his way to Cas’s desk and leaned over his shoulder. Upon seeing the word count on his screen, his eyes widened.

“You wrote all that last night? Or this morning?” He asked.

Cas shrugged, a little sheepishly. “I got inspired.”

Dean blinked at him. “I’m gonna make a pot of coffee,” he said.

Cas wrote a few hundred more words before finding a good stopping point. He scrolled to the top of his document and highlighted the scenes he wanted to use for his project. Dean brought him a cup of coffee, which Cas accepted eagerly, beginning to feel the first twinges of exhaustion through his inspiration-fueled mania.

“What’re you writing over there?” Dean asked after taking a sip from his mug.

“It’s one of my final projects,” Cas replied. He drank from his own mug.

Dean looked at him in horror. “A five-thousand word essay?”

Cas laughed. “No. A thousand-word short story,” he said.

“What, so you’re an over-achiever?”

“No,” Cas said. “I’m only using the first thousand words for my project. But I just couldn’t stop. There was more to tell.” His cheeks flamed. Talking about his creative projects always embarrassed him.

“What’s it about?” Dean asked.

Cas gave him a sideways grin. “You’ll find out when you read it.”

Dean scowled. “At least tell me what you’re calling it.”

Cas looked up thoughtfully. “I don’t know for sure yet,” he said. “That reminds me…” He turned back to his computer to save the document. When faced with the title option, he faltered. He typed in “The Righteous Man.” That would do for now.

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

taglist! @nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers

#supernatural #destiel #deancas #destiel fic

11 notes · View notes

justanoutlawfic · 3 years

Note

how about a fic where snow is in jail and regina is her wife and she ask for a marital visit? i feel like prison sex is what this fandom needs and you said it yourself in a fic, snow is the ultimate dom ;)

This took me a bit and it’s probably a tad angstier than you expected. I went back and forth on how to handle this, and this is what my mind came up with.

On AO3/FF

The first time Regina had sex with Mary Margaret, both were partially buzzed on Southern Comfort. Their clothes discarded on the floor of Regina’s apartment, leading a trail to her room. Her roommate was out of town. They were able to blast Journey as they fucked each other into the night. There was some awkward fumbling and testing boundaries, but for their first time together, it had been pretty great.

Now if Regina wants to have sex with her wife for the first time in months, she needs to be violated. She’s heard of searches in prisons, but nothing prepared her for just how invasive it was.

“Cough,” the burly female guard barked after she dropped her lace thong. This comes after being patted down in every area known to man. Regina manages to get one out. “You can do better than that.”

Regina resists an eye roll, coughing harder. It’s up to the guard’s satisfaction and she quickly pulls the thong, followed by her skirt back up. The guard barreling over six feet leads her down a few winding hallways. It’s so quick, Regina couldn’t find her way out if she really wanted to. The guard stops in front of the door, fishing out her keys to open it. On the other side is a nicer room than she expected. Mal had prepared her for potentially the worst, saying it varied depending on the prison. There’s a queen-sized mattress covered in a simple white sheet in the center of the room. A torn couch sits on one side, a bookshelf with a few worn textbooks on the other. A single fan is plugged into the wall, currently off. A table near the couch has a vase filled with lilies. The harsh lighting washes out the stark walls with no decoration

In the corner of the room is where she stands. Bags crowd Mary Margaret’s wide green eyes. The light makeup she once worn is nowhere to be seen. Having moved on from the orange jumpsuit to tan scrubs over a white long-sleeved t-shirt. Perhaps the most shocking is the hair. Regina’s wife once had such beautiful dark curls that hung around her shoulders. In the six months since the trial, she’s cut it down to a pixie cut.

Mary Margaret’s lips tugged up into a smile. “Hi, baby.”

“Snow,” Regina breathes, the nickname for her wife has never tasted so good.

She runs right into her arms, squeezing her for dear life. Mary Margaret presses a kiss to her forehead, stroking her hair.

“You have six hours,” the guard says with as much enthusiasm as dried paint. “The door locks behind me. There’s a bathroom through there.” Regina assumes she’s pointing somewhere, but she keeps her face buried in Mary Margaret’s shoulder, inhaling the cheapo soap and cigarettes. “We’ll call that phone every hour. If you don’t answer, we’ll assume you somehow escaped and come looking.”

“I got it,” Mary Margaret says, her head going against Regina’s.

“You’ll both be searched again when it’s time to go.”

“I got it.” Regina hears her wife sigh. “Ma’am.”

“That’s better, inmate.”

The door squeaks open and then slams shut. Keys rattle to show that they are secure and alone. Regina finally pulls away from her wife. Mary Margaret strokes her cheek, taking her in completely.

“You look exhausted, my love,” she murmurs.

Regina shakes her head. “I’m fine. Look at you.” She frowns, realizing how much weight her wife has lost. “Your beautiful hair.” She reaches up to touch the short ‘do. “I mean, it’s still gorgeous, but…”

“It was just too hard to keep up with, especially with 30 second showers,” Mary Margaret shrugs. “There’s a woman in here who does it. Looked better than I expected.” She runs her fingers over Regina’s silk blouse. “I can’t believe I actually miss the feel of silk.”

Regina nods. “Are you eating, though? Sleeping?”

“I’m fine, Regina.”

“You don’t look it. I could talk to Mal, maybe…”

“Regina,” Mary Margaret says firmly. “It’s prison, not the Ritz. I’m not supposed to look great. I’m keeping myself out of drama, stick to my group.” She sighs when Regina’s face remains unchanged. “And this is why I put off this visit. I didn’t want you seeing me this way.”

“And I don’t want to not see you,” Regina takes her hands. “I can handle it, I promise.”

She tries to force a smile on her face to prove it. Mary Margaret partially matches it, leading her over to the couch. They settle down, keeping a grip on one another.

“How’s Henry?” Mary Margaret asks.

“He’s doing well.” Regina feels herself genuinely smiling as she thinks of the child they share. “Getting better at Math and he entered a short story into a contest at school.”

“What’s it about?”

“Well, they had to write a twist on a fairytale. He wrote about Snow White falling for the Evil Queen.”

Mary Margaret laughs, shaking her head. “He’s always championed for more representation.”

“He’s doing well,” Regina finds herself repeating, for both of their benefits. “He…he misses you, though. Really wanted to come today.”

Mary Margaret immediately shakes her head. “I don’t want him to see me in here.”

“Mary Margaret…”

“We have the appeal coming up and Mal thinks I have a shot of being out of here soon.”

“In the next year,” Regina points out. “He’s going to grow so much in that time.”

“And that’ll happen whether we do these family visits or a piece of glass between us.” Mary Margaret shakes her head again. “No, I’ve ruined his childhood enough. I’m not about to do more damage.”

“Hey,” Regina touches her cheek, forcing her to look her in the eye. “You didn’t ruin his childhood. He still gets to have one.”

“You’re telling me he doesn’t worry about this stuff? That kids aren’t making fun of him?” Regina grows quiet and Mary Margaret clears her throat. “Tell me the bad part.”

“Do you want to focus on that? I see a bed over there…” Regina trails off, fiddling with her top

“We have six hours, Regina,” she says, her voice scarily quiet.

Mary Margaret isn’t one to get loud. When she’s mad, her voice gets lower and lower. If it gets so bad that soon she’ll just stop talking and fix the person with one of her looks. It’s always how Henry knows he’s in deep shit with his mama.

“Now tell me, the bad part. All of it.”

Regina sighs, pulling away from her. “He knows more than we wanted him to.” Mary Margaret’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. “I tried to protect him. We all did. But it’s all over the papers, kids at school are reading it.”

“They’re only 10!”

“You were a teacher, Mare, you know how easy it is for kids to get their hands on this stuff. Especially since it went online.”

“What are they saying?” Regina hesitates. “Regina.”

She sighs once more. “Just asking him what it’s like to have a murderer for a mother. They ask if he can bring the bat to show and tell.”

Mary Margaret shakes her head. “Kids can be fucking assholes.”

Regina nods in agreement. “I’ve got him appointments with Dr. Hopper and I can tell it’s helping, but I also think he’s trying to act tough. I’ve told him he doesn’t have to be the man of the house but he’s always trying to do all the chores. His teacher called me in because he’s missing so many assignments. When I talked to him about it, he said it’s because he needs to take care of me.”

Tears pool Regina’s eyes just as they did that night. She and Henry had hugged each other as they cried. Her baby boy sobbed about how badly he wanted things to go back to normal, he actually uttered the words “I want my mommy”. For the past six months, he’s kept a brave face, acting wise behind his years. This is just a reminder of what he is: a little boy that needs both of his mothers.

Mary Margaret scrubs furiously at her face, trying to hide the evidence of her own tears. “I’ll talk to him about it,” she whispers. “I’ll call, tell him that he doesn’t need to do so.”

“I already did, I know Dr. Hopper is as well. I’m sure a phone call from you wouldn’t hurt, though,” Regina quickly adds on. “He just misses you.” She twiddles her thumbs together. “We both do.”

“I miss you both too.” She gnaws on her lips. “And how are we doing financially?”

Regina waves her off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Regina, come on. You said when I agreed for you to come here that you’d be honest. So, be honest.”

“Well…we’re hanging in there.” Regina rubs the back of her neck. “Between legal fees, me taking off so much time from work and us going down to one income as it is…we’ve burned through our savings. I had to get a loan from my mother.”

Mary Margaret groans, tipping her head back. Regina hangs her head, picking at a loose thread on her skirt. The two were never fabulously well off, but they made enough to live comfortably. Mary Margaret worked for a respected private school, which meant Henry got to go for free. Regina has been at the same ad agency for years. Lately, they’ve been hesitant to put her on accounts given her associations. Everyone thinks Manhattan is huge, but the truth is, it’s a tiny island. People hear Blanchard-Mills and instantly ask “That Blanchard? The one who killed her father?” It hasn’t made paying the rent easier.

“I know,” Regina mumbles. “But we had to pay the rent and other bills. And that’s only going to get us so far.” She shakes her head. “I’ve decided to take up Kathryn on her offer. I’ll give up the apartment, then Henry and I will move in with her in Connecticut.”

“Regina, no.” Mary Margaret’s eyes are wide once more. “Too much has changed for him! We can’t uproot him again.”

“We don’t have much of a choice, Mary Margaret!” Regina snaps, causing her wife to back up a bit on the couch. She honestly doesn’t care. Mary Margaret is doing an incredible thing, but she can’t see how bad things are. It’s partially on Regina, she’s tried to protect her from it. “If we stay in Manhattan, it’s going to bankrupt us. I can commute and still visit you. But Kathryn isn’t charging me any rent or expecting us to pay bills. I’ve looked into the local schools there, they’re adequate.”

“Mal says…”

“Yes, you’ll be out in a year, maybe. Big maybe. I need a backup plan if you don’t. And I’m sorry, even if you do, life has still changed. You’re at risk of losing your teaching license and Hyperion Day certainly isn’t going to take you back. Stamford isn’t exactly cheap to live in, but it’ll be better than New York. When you get out, we can look into affordable housing.”

Mary Margaret clears throat, a hurt look etched on her face. “Looks like you’ve figured this all out on your own.”

“Well, you’re in here so I kind of have to.”

Regina gets up from the couch, walking over to stare at the blank wall. Any guilt she had before she walked in has washed over with resentment. The soft sound of tennis shoes pad against the linoleum.

“We’ve been over this, Regina,” Mary Margaret whispers. “It had to be me.”

“And why?” Regina whips back around. “You’re innocent! I…”

Mary Margaret smacks her hand over Regina’s mouth. “Shut the fuck up,” she hisses. “This place is probably wired.”

Regina glares at her behind the hand. Ever since it happened, Mary Margaret has called the shots. She said they couldn’t call the police. She destroyed the bat. She decided to take the fall and let everyone suspect her instead of Regina.

It’s still all pretty much a blur. Mary Margaret’s father showing up to the house, demanding to see her. Regina had never met him before but she knew the stories well. After all he had done to Mary Margaret, she knew she had to protect her. At first, she just kept telling him to leave, but he wormed his way into the house. Regina went to call the cops and then he attacked her. One minute, she was fighting for her life. The next, Leopold’s lifeless body bleeding out onto their rug. Regina’s Louisville slugger gripped tightly beneath her fingers. Mary Margaret came home not long after. She didn’t even blink, she just went into crisis mode.

Henry was at the neighbor’s playing and Mary Margaret called to request a sleepover. They waited until nightfall, wrapping Leopold into a tarp and dragging him down to their garage. They drove hours to the countryside where they found the woods he had once taught his only daughter to hunt. Leopold was buried carefully, not for his dignity but their protection. Regina would have nightmares of the blood, the fire that destroyed most of the evidence. Mary Margaret drove his car to a poorer part of the city where it was bound to be stolen. All DNA scrubbed from their home. It was like it never happened.

But when Leopold didn’t show up to work the following Monday, a search went out. It took three months for them to uncover the body.

And who else would the first suspect be except his only yet estranged daughter, Mary Margaret Blanchard-Mills.

Mary Margaret never admitted to it, she maintained her innocence. A detective friend of Leopold had something to prove and stretched enough evidence to pin it on her. Mal said Mary Margaret was definitely not given a fair trial and would argue bias to get it all overturned. She has faith and Regina wants to have it as well. Just as much as she wanted to just come clean to avoid all of it.

“It was self-defense,” she told Mary Margaret. “He was threatening you, attacked me. I protected the both of us.”

“You’re a Latinx woman with a record,” her wife pointed out.

“One assault charge, which was also in self-defense.”

“They won’t care. Mal’s right. It has to be me. Besides, either way, I go down. I was there, I helped you cover it up. Henry can’t lose both of us.”

There’s not a day that goes day that Regina doesn’t regret it or debate heading into NYPD headquarters to turn herself in. And then she remembers the sacrifice her wife made. All they’ve done. According to Mal, the fight will be over soon.

“Then you can go back to normal.”

Regina knows nothing will ever be normal again. Her wife is locked up. Regina killed a man. She still has nightmares every time she closes her eyes. Their son is forever traumatized. Mary Margaret has been through hell in prison.

Normal is long gone.

Regina bites Mary Margaret’s hand, causing her to quickly move it away and shake it out. “I don’t want to fight,” she whispers. “Even if we have six hours.”

Mary Margaret nods. “I don’t either.”

There’s so much left to say. The fears about the appeal, their son, the future of their mental states and even marriage.

Regina isn’t going to let that ruin the now.

“Undress me,” Regina practically demands.

Mary Margaret cocks her eyebrow. “Excuse me?” A chill runs down Regina’s spine.

“P…please,” she whimpers. “Please undress me.”

“What do you want me to take off first.” Regina’s trembling fingers fall to her blouse. “Use your words, baby girl.”

“My…my shirt.”

Mary Margaret nods. She takes great care in each button, purposefully going slow. Eventually, it falls to the floor. She snakes her hand behind Regina’s back and unhooks the bra, allowing it to go with the blouse. Mary Margaret cups her breasts, running her fingers around the areolas. Regina bites down on her lip, letting out a soft squeal when Mary Margaret pinches her nipple.

“So sensitive,” Mary Margaret coos. She runs her hands against the soft skin surrounding the nipples, feeding Regina’s touch starvation. “Taking care of everyone else, but who is taking care of my princess?”

Princess. People often joke that Regina is a ruthless evil queen in meetings. In the bedroom, she isn’t a tough business woman or strict mother. She’s Mary Margaret’s princess.

“No one,” Regina moans. “I need you.”

“And I’m right here.”

Mary Margaret lays a kiss to her lips, their first since before the final verdict. Regina savors every moment of it, even if Mary Margaret’s lips are chapped beyond belief. Her wife’s lips travel, moving to her neck. What starts with soft, gentle kisses quickly turns to sucking, marking her territory. Looks like Regina will have to wear scarves for the coming weeks. Maybe it’s high schoolish of her, but Regina will never be against hickeys. She tingles from the sucking alone, her hand grabbing the front of her skirt. With her eyes shut, Mary Margaret smacks her hand away. She ever so slightly pulls her lips away, causing Regina to whine.

“Did I give you permission to touch yourself?” Mary Margaret asks.

Regina shakes her head, only to get a smack to her bottom prompting a verbal answer. “No.”

“That’s what I thought. Keep your hands on me.”

Regina obliges, wrapping her arms around Mary Margaret’s waist. Her wife’s lips travel, leaving marks around her shoulder blades, chest and breasts. Regina fights to touch herself, digging her nails into the scrubs. Mary Margaret unzips her skirt and Regina steps out of it, kicking it across the room. Her thong is slid down for the second time that afternoon, Mary Margaret helping her out of it. She holds the black garment to her face, taking a deep inhale. Regina stands stark naked in the cold room, her nipples perking up from the temperature.

“On the bed,” Mary Margaret demands.

Regina nods and lays against the lumpy mattress. Mary Margaret pulls off her two shirts, followed by her pants. Underneath are the ugliest bra and panties combo. Mary Margaret warned her it was bad, but Regina certainly wasn’t expecting this. She smirks.

“Nice lingerie, Grandma.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes playfully narrow. “Somebody’s cruising for a bruising.”

“Go right ahead,” Regina tempts her. “You know you want to.”

Mary Margaret shakes her head, a faux disappointed look on her face. She strips off the bra and underwear. Her wife has always kept things all natural, but the bush has grown more with time. For the briefest of moments, Regina wonders if it’s possible for her shaven pussy to get rugburn. Mary Margaret climbs onto the bed. She rubs Regina’s calves, leading up to her thigh. Regina’s gently rolled over onto her side so Mary Margaret can marvel at the words tattooed above her ass. She shivers as her wife traces the five-word mantra. A callback to a random drunk night in college.

“Pour some sugar on me,” Mary Margaret purrs.

“I wish you’d let me get it removed.”

“If you really wanted to, you know I’d let you do whatever. But can you really part with it?”

Regina doesn’t even have to think. “No.”

“Good.” Mary Margaret rolls her back over and slowly climbs on top of her. “Now, let me take care of you.”

Regina can only really get a good look at Mary Margaret’s chest. “I want to take care of you.”

Mary Margaret bends down, her breasts practically spilling on top of Regina. She presses a finger to her lips. “We have six hours.”

“More like five and a half now.”

“Hush.”

Mary Margaret moves backward, her legs wrapping around Regina’s. She reaches into the bedside table, removing a bottle of lube. Regina tilts her head. Mary Margaret shrugs.”

“I heard they provided this and was shocked too.”

She squirts a decent amount onto her finger, carefully applying it to both areas. Regina bites down on her lip. It’s definitely not the quality stuff sitting in their own side table, but it’ll do the job for now. Mary Margaret slides down, sticking one finger up at first, making the room for the second. She flexes them in and out, a loud moan escaping Regina.

“God, I’ve forgotten how good you feel,” Mary Margaret groans.

“S…same.”

“It’s such a shame,” Mary Margaret’s fingers fuck her harder. “We don’t have our toys here.”

Regina thinks of the pink box hidden carefully at the bottom of their closet and grins.

“Have you been using some of those without me?” Mary Margaret asks, pausing her fingers. Regina nods, blushing a bit. “Like?”

Regina smirks cheekily. “Your favorite magic wand.”

“Oh, you naughty girl.” Mary Margaret returns to her fingering. “Tell you what, when all of this is done, Mommy will show you how good it feels when she uses it on you.”

Regina nods. “Yes, please, please.”

“Remember when I first bought it? How excited you were to watch me use it?” Regina grins at the memory. “Watching as it got me all wet and horny, saving the best for you. I want you think about that right now, baby.”

“I am.” She shuts her eyes. “I promise.”

The fingers aren’t the same as the wand or the myriad of other toys they have in that box. It doesn’t replace their thousand count sheets or their favorite aftercare lotion. None of it makes forget Regina that she’s fucking her wife in a prison.

But it sure as hell brings a relief from the stress she’s been under since all of this began. A momentary distraction before she’s forced to face reality.

“Get me wet, baby,” Mary Margaret moans.

It takes a few more thrusts, but Regina finds it in herself. Mary Margaret falls on top of her, her lips lightly brushing against Regina’s.

“Again,” Regina mumbles, her eyes growing heavy.

Mary Margaret shakes her head. “We have time. Take a little nap.”

“I don’t want to miss out on anything with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Regina gives into sleep, clinging tightly to her wife. She only awakes a half hour later when the phone rings out and Mary Margaret’s annoyed voice fills the room.

“Yeah. I’m still here.”

#snow queen #snow white #mary margaret blanchard #regina mills #ouat #once upon a time #anon asks #asked and answered

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