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So Steve generally is pleased with the changed the serum wrought in him, but there’s one niggling problem. It didn’t seem like an issue at the time - a small price to pay to help save the world - but as the years passed, and especially after he was reunited with Bucky, and they finally overcame their inhibitions and talked about their feelings for each other…

Well, it became more than a minor inconvenience.

Steve can’t come.

And hasn’t he sacrificed enough for his country and his fellow people?

And it’s fricken frustrating. Like, all his parts work right, as far as he and Bucky can tell, but his stamina is just so through the roof that there’s no way anyone can last long enough to get him there. Even Bucky, with all his own enhancements, hits a point of pure exhaustion before Steve is able to get off. At first it’s a mild inconvenience. No big deal. Sex still feels good. But as time passes, it goes from being no big deal to being a profound psychological issue. Because Bucky can’t help but feel it’s about him, and because Steve *wants* to come so. damn. badly. And he just. CAN’T.

Finally, in despair, they turn to the other Avengers for help. Maybe, through their powers combined (all puns intended…)

Sam nopes out from the get go. Oh, he’s interested, but he knows he can’t get the job done if fricken Bucky can’t. And the possibility of being a third with them is a bit too tempting…

Clint agrees on a lark and he is at least a fun third in their bed but none of them really thought he’d have the ability to stick things through. He joins them from time to time going forward anyway. At least they can all have a good laugh when Clint’s involved.

Tony talks a big game and lasts all of 30 minutes. Adequate for a regular lay, but no where near what Steve needs.

Thor flat-out refuses, which is a pity cause Bucky really thought the God had a shot at helping them. Vision does the same. (Neither admits that loyalty to their current SOs keeps it in their pants).

So it goes - attempts are made, or not, with no success, with Bruce and Rhodey and all the other men on the team.

Natasha is the first of the women to come knocking. She looks pissed and bears a sizable briefcase, and confronts them. “Why the hell have you only asked the men?” They have no good answer, and she shuts down their shitty, bumbling excusds by opening the briefcase and revealing an impressive collection of sex toys.

“What you need is someone who isn’t so distracted by their own orgasm that they neglect yours,” she explains. They have a long chat, the gist of which is that Nat is ace as fuck and damn good at the physical act of sex and more than willing to devote the time necessary to give Steve’s long-sought climax the old college try.

Which is how Steve ends up sandwiched between Bucky and Nat, his cock buried deep in Bucky’s gorgeous body, Nat’s impressively large strap on slowly thrusting in and out of his hole.

And it’s good.

It’s not enough, but it’s really damn good.

Bucky has to take breaks. Having Steve inside him is fucking amazing, and even without a touch to his dick there’s only so much Bucky can take before he shatters.

Nat doesn’t need to take breaks. She’s barely aroused, and while she’s mortal, she’s also in peak shape. Yes, fucking Steve senseless is fatiguing but not beyond what she can handle, and she’s genuinely enjoying the challenge. Seeing the powerful man reduced to a quivering, begging rec beneath her working hips is profoundly satisfying.

When Bucky needs a break from being an obliging hole, he holds Steve, praises him, strokes or sucks his cock, kisses him, and exchanges hopeful, pleased smiles with Natasha. They have a history that Steve barely knows the least of, know far too much about what the other has been through, and somehow - at least for Bucky - being able to help Steve through this feels strangely, inexplicably like absolution, forgiveness, ablution. Judging by the gleam in Nat’s eyes, she feels similarly.

But Steve still doesn’t come.

Bucky recovers for a second round, a third. Steve is covered in sweat, flushed, long past being able to see anything through sightless, lust dilated eyes. Natasha finally needs a break as Steve sinks into Bucky for the third time; she returns to her briefcase as Steve weeps at being abruptly empty and returns in moments with a curved vibrator that she pressed into his body. The bulbous tip of the toy rests right on Steve’s prostate and he sobs in relief as she turns it on, thrusting desperately, helplessly, into Bucky’s body. He’s so *lost* and it feels so *good* and he *still can’t come.*

Bucky makes it through round 3, and round 4, before he has to acknowledge he can’t take more in one session. Pushing himself that far, for that long, takes the pleasure out of sex and brings him back to too many bad times in his murky, half remembered past. Those memories are only kept at bay when he turns and holds Steve close, kisses him and caresses him, remembers who is with him, who cares for him, who is touching him. It’s STEVE. But even for Steve, Bucky doesn’t dare turn his back once more, doesn’t dare expose himself and leave himself vulnerable when his imagination can concoct any number of delusions regarding who is behind him. As long as he can see Steve, he’s fine…

Nat, on the other hand, is having a blast. Steve is gorgeously lost, desperate, and she hasn’t had a challenge like this in ages. She was trained to break men with sex, and she was good at it in part because she was asexual and the sex itself was (mostly) meaningless to her. But being able to use all those tools in the interest of helping one of her closest friends? Is *fun*. She pulls out every trick for prostate stimulation she knows - she leaves Steve’s cock to Bucky - and creates some new ones on the fly, gauging his reactions as the hours pass.

Steve is…Steve is *wrecked.* he can’t stop, not now, his body flooded with endorphins and bliss. He can’t *not* stop, either. He feels too much - it’s completely overwhelming - every nudge against his insides threatens to tear him apart - yet he still hasn’t climaxed. He’d float away if not for the solid weight of Bucky in his arms, if not for Bucky’s raspy voice tethering him to reality. He babbles sometimes, begging Nat or Bucky to fuck him, begging them to stop, just…begging, incoherent pleas that Bucky kisses from his lips and soothes with tender, loving words.

There’s no single thing that tips the balance. There’s nothing that Nat does, or Bucky does, that gives Steve the final push. One moment he’s sobbing his frustration and desperation into Bucky’s shoulder, the next moment his body seizes and he shatters, screaming and crying as his cock spews copiously into Bucky’s palm.

It’s Steve’s first orgasm in almost 80 years.

It’s far, far more than he can cope with.

It’s so much less than he needs.

It takes the three of them days to recover, exhausted from their marathon session, but Steve is relieved and satisfied (and insists they don’t need to do it again; they both know he’s full of it and not in the fun way) and Bucky is more in love than ever and Nat…

Nat’s entire attitude seems to be summed up as “challenge accepted.” She trades her services for as many back rubs as the men are willing to give her, and covertly consults with Tony about designing more advanced sex toys, and maybe a fucking machine, so that next time she has even more tools in arsenal. Tony is a little weirded out, but game…hey, there’s probably a market for the shit he’s designing.

Sam is…a little sorry…a lot sorry…he said no the first time.

But he gets another chance.

It never gets easier to get Steve off, and Natasha has decided this is her pet project, and she’s perfectly happy to bring in whichever other Avengers want to play. (Which is mostly Clint and Sam…)

Steve has never felt more loved, and it’s glorious.

(Or, the canon divergent AU where everyone gets a turn at Steve’s lovely ass, if they want it…)

I’ve just been thinking about this a lot…especially sweaty, over stimulated Steve completely breaking down when he finally, *finally* climaxes…

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Victor Nikiforov is a business prodigy. He’s worked his ass off and he’s very successful despite his youth, an closer at a major corporation on his way up, a workaholic, who sometimes acts like a clown but always gets the job done at the end.

At the end of one such job, he and his fellow execs head to a local joint to blow off steam. Strip club wouldn’t have been his first choice but he plays along, schmoozes his compatriots, and ignores the acts…until a gorgeous Asian guy comes on wearing spandex and dances on the stripper pole like he was fricken *made* to wrap his long, muscular legs around a shaft. The dancer goes by the name Eros and Victor cannot get the man out of his head. Days later, he’s still distracted by memories of a cocky smirk and a bulging g string. He goes back to the club again, again, and blows some of his excess money on Eros, and goes home and fantasizes about that gorgeous body wrapped around a very different shaft.

So things go - Victor has the money and can carve out the time, and everyone expects an executive to have a vice, so no one cares - for a few months. The late nights do mess with Victor’s head a bit, so his caffeine habit kicks into high gear, and going to the building’s lobby Starbucks regularly means he meets the barristas. They’re nice people; Victor’s favorite is the shy, reserved young man, his dark hair a mess, his glasses fogging when he runs the cappuccino machine. His name tag IDs him as Yuri, and his tongue-tied replies to Victor’s casual flirting are seriously too adorable for words, and he vaguely reminds Victor of Eros, though for no reason Victor can put his finger on.

More months pass.

Until the day Yuri shoves Victor his coffee without making eye contact and with an agonized grimaced and ignores Victor’s concerned call after him when Yuri flees to the back room.

Yuri’s number is on the cup.

That night, instead of going to the strip club, Victor texts Yuri.

And is surprisingly disappointed that Yuri begs off, saying he’s unavailable.

So he goes and watches Eros instead, but he and Yuri exchange flirty texts all evening.

…and so it goes. Yuri, as it turns out, is a dancer paying his way through school and he works very hard, barrista by day, rehearsals by nice. Because he works in the building, they’re at least able to do lunch together almost every day. It’s a slower, less physical approach to relationships than Victor is used to but…he likes it. He likes Yuri. He’s smart, funny, sweet, a good cook, a hard worker, and he laughs - *genuinely* laughs - at Victor’s jokes. When they’re together, Victor feels less like a suit and more like a man, and there’s a gleam in Yuri’s eyes sometimes that gets Victor’s heart pounding.

If only Victor could stop thinking about Eros, and that knowing, suggestivr smile he gives Victor sometimes.

Yuri has a Sunday night off.

Victor plans a date, complete with candlelit dinner, Champaign on ice, and lube in his pocket.

It goes even better than Victor could hope.

And it’s not until Victor is drawing Yuri’s unbuttoned shirt over his gorgeous, muscled chest that he realizes…


And instead of it being a dream come true it brings all of Victor’s worries and uncertainties crashing down. Someone like him can’t date a *stripper.* especially when *all* his coworkers know. They’ve all seen Eros…Yuri…almost naked. Fuck, half the city has seen Yuri naked.

Victor, um, Victor might handle the reveal badly.

Very, very badly.

Meanwhile it truly never dawned on Yuri that Victor didn’t know. He’s been serving Victor daily coffee for months. Victor has been stuffing hundred dollar bills in his g string for even longer. How could Victor *not* know? And learning that not only is Victor clueless, he’s also a jealous, disgusting hypocrite over it?

Yuri is done.

Until he’s not.

Needless to say they sort it out eventually. ;)

(And Victor practically sobs with bliss when Yuri…Eros…*finally* plows him into the mattress)

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Oh GOD so I kept trying to figure out a way to tie the baby slings into this but I just couldn’t get past this same mental image…

TENTACULAR SPECTACULAR written all in neon flashing lights, the sign high over the Las Vegas strip. Half-octopi have always been a reclusive bunch so it was a real coup for the casino Oceana when they were able to expand their underwater theme (complete with world-class aquarium and 1 Michelin Star seafood restaurant and yeah everyone recognizes the irony yet no one seems to mind?) to include the greatest show not on earth - an all-underwater show of swimming magnificence, presented in a tank fronted by the largest piece of solid glass in the entire state of Nevada - it’s as big as an IMax screen, with as many rows of spectator seats lined up. They’ve been advertising for months, and are sold out through their first year, and hell if it’s not the show of the century. Or at least, so Oceana keeps advertising it as.

TENTACULAR SPECTACULAR features half-humans of various ilk - octopi and squids, primarily - and a variety of other tentacled beasts. The sea-living people turn out to have a wide range of trained animals that they work with - domesticated, as humans have domesticated so many - and they’ve been lured out to share this by the promise of copious amounts of money. Not everyone, of course, and the departure of those who chose to perform has caused something of a schism in half-octopus society especially, but from the point of view of those who went, it’s worth it - a chance to introduce the world to who and what they are and start to normalize the state of human/half-human relations.

TENTACULAR SPECTACULAR stars, among many others, Dean and Sam Winchester, both half-octopi. When they lived in Pacifica, they were reknowned for their trained octopi, squids, sharks, eels, and other underwater animals. Mostly for fun, they also happen to be experts on half-octopi traditional combat techniques - everyone needs a hobby, right? - so they were excellently suited to working with the Vegas show. They also had experience collaborating with humans and established good connections, for they often helped search and rescue groups seek missing ships, lost people, or crashed airplanes.

TENTACULAR SPECTACULAR is going great, and Dean and Sam are having the time of their lives, until an ambassador from their home city arrives and demands they return, accusing them of various infractions. Castiel, his name is, and he is a stick in the mud, suspicious of humans, and totally disinterested in the fact that Dean and Sam can’t have committed the crimes they’re accused of, since they were in Vegas at the time. It’s clearly a set up, meant to discredit them and their rising stardom in the human world, meant to sour human/half-human interactions, and Dean in particular is so over it.

And he fricken hates that Castiel guy, with his blue eyes and his tanned skin and his muscles and his blue-gray-black tentacles and…

Well, you see where this is going.

(I dunno I just can’t get past that I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fic where they’re *both* half octopi? SO MANY TENTACLES. SO MANY CHOICES. And I think some MPreg. So that we can work in that sling. ;) )

Also, one last time…


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And I really just need a few solid nights of sleep, ya know? It’s just that getting that has been a challenge *sigh*. But I’ve only got three more days left of this fucking morning shift (two days, after I finish work this morning) and after that my alarm won’t need to be set for 4 AM every morning which should improve my sleep situation even if the potato keeps having midnight miseries.


I’m really torn right now between a weird twist on an Ella Enchanted AU and a dom/sub verse or A/B/O verse. Basically, any setting where whoever is getting this said to them has to obey, not just chooses to.

Or…oh maaaaaaan okay this just took a dark turn in my head so warning dub con or something. (this…might just be Cas/Jimmy? I haven’t quite figured out where Dean fits in yet)

Jimmy’s first mistake was pissing off the witch and getting his ass cursed with obedience. It wasn’t so bad. As long as he wasn’t given a direct command in clear, unequivocal language, he could generally weasel his way out of doing whatever he’d been ordered to do. He’d read enough stories about Genie wishes to understand - if someone isn’t absolutely explicit, there’s always wiggle room in any wish, or any command - and over the years it actually becomes a bit of a game. No one knows about his curse, and people casually give orders all the time, and as soon as the compulsion settles around him, Jimmy starts thinking - how can I get out of this? How can I subvert it? It’s…it’s almost fun.

The only bad part, and it is damn bad, is that, with such a secret heavy on his shoulders, Jimmy has to put distance between himself and his twin. Over the weeks and months and years he often sees the baffled look on Castiel’s face, wondering - what changed between them? But Jimmy keeps his distance. There are things he dare not risk. He seeks solace in the arms of a handsome guard, Dean, who is very obliging, asks no questions, and himself takes orders very, very well.

Trying to keep Castiel at arms length? Definitely Jimmy’s second mistake.

He’s never sure how Castiel figures out his secret. No one else has even come close to the mark. But there they are, both 20, both haunted by the memories of the things they used to do together before the curse forced them apart, both locked in Jimmy’s bedroom, the key in Castiel’s pocket.

“Come on, Cas, this is ridiculous! There’s nothing going on! There’s nothing to say! What we were doing was wrong - I know it, you know it - so I stopped. And you know as well as I, if we get close again, all bets are off. This is how it has to be.”

“Is it?” Castiel replies, and Jimmy gets his first inkling that Cas knows more than he’s letting on. “In that case…” Cas crosses the room, sets the key on a table several feet to Jimmy’s right, and says, “Jimmy, stay still and behave.”

And waits.

The command is firm. It’s all Jimmy can do to make himself breathe. Moving is impossible. 

“If you want to leave, nothing is stopping you…” Cas taunts.

Jimmy can’t even answer. Moving his mouth isn’t staying still.

And behave? What does that even mean?

“I’ve missed you,” Cas continues. “Have you missed me?”

Jimmy manages a strained sound without violating the command.

“Answer me,” Cas answers. “Truthfully. Immediately.”

“I have,” Jimmy admits. “So much, Cas, but I had to–” He stops himself - he doesn’t have to give extra information, just answer to the letter what Cas asked. But of course Cas can’t let it go. He demands more explanation, demands the whole truth, and under compulsion, Jimmy has no choice to share it.

It’s actually…well, it’s a relief. A profound relief. Not telling his twin, not touching his twin, had been agony.

Dean is the one who finds them hours later, thoroughly debauched, when he comes to meet Jimmy for their regular assignation.

Turns out Cas and Dean have had regular assignations, too.

Turns out Dean is way into the twin thing.

Turns out Dean doesn’t need to be cursed to do what Jimmy says.

So Cas orders Jimmy around, and Jimmy orders Dean around, and God if it’s not the best damn thing that’s ever happened to Jimmy.

Maybe his first two missteps weren’t really mistakes after all…

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Cas went to college and declared a major in fine arts to learn how to, ya know make art. Which makes the assignment given by his graphic arts teacher, instructing the class to use only Microsoft Paint to produce a gallery-worthy piece, all the more egregious. Cas is adept with pencil, ink, paint and watercolor; with photoshop and various art programs, and he has a tablet.

But really? Microsoft fricken paint?

Every attempt is worse than the last.

Meanwhile, Castiel’s roommate Dean is his usual smug, superior self. Cas couldn’t imagine a roommate he had less in common with - Dean’s an econ major on their football team, which apparently some kind of big deal? - who keeps weird hours and is way, way too good looking for his own good. So Dean struts in and asks Cas what’s bugging him, and when Cas tells him…

…Dean strolls over, frowns, starts hitting keys and using the mouse and voila! The jock MBA wanna be somehow produces fucking magic with Microsoft Paint?

W. T. F.

So it turns out that Dean comes from a really poor family and the only programs on their computer growing up that worked right were Mine Sweeper and Microsoft Paint so Dean can use the program to make work that’d put fricken Picasso to shame AND he can find all 99 bombs in 5 minutes flat. And Cas reflects and realizes…he’s never really…had a conversation with his roommate? He just…assumed…Dean was a jerk? So of course Dean never tried to talk with Cas, since Cas being standoffish the whole time, and, well, at least one good thing comes out of the fucking Microsoft Pain(t) incident - Dean is just as pretty naked as clothed, and makes the sweetest sounds when Cas touches him just right, and is way more interesting, more queer, and more intelligent, than Cas ever gave him credit for…

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ooooo I love them too this is awesome thank you!! (sorry it took me a few days to reply…)

Modern city AU, I think - I’ll own I’m a sucker for commuter love stories, even though in a fricken lifetime as a commuter I never got past waving tentative hello to the people who consistently took the train at the same time as me.


Jo has a problem.

Specifically, Jo has a crush.

Not normally a problem except she doesn’t even know the name of the woman she’s got a crush on, nor has she got the foggiest how to figure it out.

It starts when she sees the express train go by her station. Working as a waitress, she goes home ludicrously late most nights. It doesn’t bother her, because she’s a night person, but it does get lonely, and a little creepy, on train platforms at 3 AM when no one else is around. Also, not usually much in the way of people watching…until there is. Late night rail work means the express train that runs down the center tracks has to stop. Jo tiredly watched the empty cars chug by inch by inch, until, in the last car, there’s one person. A red-haired woman, gorgeous, slim, exuberant, carefree as she danced in the empty central train aisle to the music playing through her head phones. Was it great dancing? No. But it was enthralling, the woman’s eyes closed, her lips spread in an elated grin - lost in her own happy word at 3 AM on the 2 train.

Jo was captivated. She shouldn’t stare, she knew, but…well, there was no one else to see, right?

Except that the woman abruptly stopped dancing, opened her eyes, gazed astonishment at Jo, broke into a shy smile, gave a small wave, and then, blushing beat red, cowered into a subway seat as if the car was packed instead of deserted.

So began their…relationship?

The strange woman, it turned out, rode the express every night at the same time, just as Jo waited on the platform at the same time every night. With track work had just started a few nights before, but it was slated to go on for months, and regular as clockwork, every night, Jo and her mystery crush shared a “moment.” Jo stopped dating other people, her friends started to wonder, but what could she say, “I’m head over heels for the red haired beauty on the train? No I don’t know her name?” So she said nothing. The last thing she needed was the whole Roadhouse crew ribbing her over this. She gave herself enough of a hard time as it was. The whole thing was fucking ridiculous. Yet she couldn’t deny - she lived for those few moments of shy waves and big warm smiles.

After a particularly bad night at the Roadhouse, Jo was especially eager for her nightly pick-me-up, which made the mystery woman’s absence particularly crushing. Disappointed more than she could say that the express train was empty, Jo slumped and just hoped that the day would be over soon, and that her “friend” was alright. The local took forever to arrive, as usual, and Jo was nodding off on her feet when the doors finally opened.

“Hi!” chirped a friendly voice.

Jo’s eyes flew open.

The mystery woman stood in the local, same adorable smile on her face.

“Um. I’m Charlie.”

Knowing it was the stupidest thing she’d ever done, unable to stop herself, Jo stepped into the car, crowded the woman - Charlie - and grabbed her and drew her into a kiss. It was as awesome as she hoped, even as her brain screamed about how many lines she’d just crossed, but Charlie kissed her back, undeniably, passionately, and maybe, maybe it was alright, and…

Breathless, Jo drew back. “I’m Jo!”

“Less talking, more kissing!” was Charlie’s response, and yeah, that crush pretty much instantly transformed into utter adoration…

…they took the local together every night after that, and it was only a few months before that train was dropping them off at the same station, to return to the same apartment together…

(um this kinda turned more into a ficlet I guess sorry but I love them…)

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Oh maaaan so for the first time in ages I had a dream that I think makes an awesome story idea with a little modification. I’ve been lying here trying to lodge the details in my head…and making it coherent…and turning it into an SPN AU. Here it is…

Ships: Cas/Benny, Dean/Cas/Benny, Cas/Dick Roman (extremely dubious consent!)

Warnings: ABO, dub con, fantasy AU, omega Cas, beta Dean, alpha Benny. Story itself would have more but those are the big ones for this outline.

While small kingdoms are suffered to exist, no one can pretend that Purgatory is the dominant force in the world. Eve, queen of Purgatory, has numerous alpha sons and daughters who vie for dominance and control in her kingdom. Once a year, she opens her doors to the eligible young omegas of the lesser kingdoms and allows them to try to court her alpha children. The suitors must be omegas and must be virginal. Invasive tests are used to confirm eligibility and violators are subject to summary execution. It’s not a fair system, not a happy one, but it’s what the lesser kingdoms must do. Sending a satisfactory mate to Purgatory protects them, and if their child can produce an alpha grand child for Eve, there’s even a chance for great influence. The grand courtship starts with a suitors ball, and then a week of planned activities supposedly as “get to know each other” but mostly so Eve’ s children can find their favorites and coerce them into marriage.

In an effort to ensure their continued existence, Heaven sends their young, just of age son Castiel to the suitors ball. He’s terrified, and has no interest in marriage, but what choice does he have? He’s as prepared as he can be, and he’s hoping he can make a good match. He knows nothing of Purgatory’s internal politics, nothing of their battles. His concern is all for protecting and furthering his own people.

To his surprise, he hits it off immediately with the guard who greets him and escort him. Purgatory is infamous for the cutthroat competition between people at all levels of the social milieu but the guard, Dean, is polite, courteous, and kindly tells Castiel what unpleasantness to expect when they part ways - the virginity tests, the display before the nobles, and finally the introduction to the alphas, all handled more like a slave market than a courtship between supposed equals. No one really thinks the royalty of other kingdoms are the equals of Eve’s family anyway. Deans alpha scent is soothing, and Castiel is sorry to see him go.

The examination before the leading nobles of the kingdom, and Eve herself, is as intimidating and humiliating as Castiel feared. Blood pools on the floor, those before him who proved unchaste, as he strips and allows all and sundry to examine him, touch him, question him, in the most invasive ways. They deliberately push him,test his calm - also part of the test, he realizes, an omega who grows upset isn’t suited to the royal family - and with Deans scent lingering in his nose, he keeps cool and passes. He is a virgin, his trained on proper behavior, is a suitable match for a royal of Purgatory.

Dean greets him after and walks him to his room. The beta smells unhappy, but he remains polite, friendly, kind. Castiel isn’t an idiot - Dean must have done terrible things to be a guard of rank in the palace, everyone in Purgatory has done terrible things to succeed - but at least Dean is personable and respectful. Idly, Castiel wonders if the beta is one of Eve’s children, born from her omega harem. Idly, Castiel wishes that Dean were an alpha, and part of the courtship. This isn’t a fairy tale - there’s no scent compatibility, no true mates - but Dean smells nice and treats him with respect and if Castiel has to marry someone there it might as well be…

But it’s not an option, and Castiel is left alone by Dean - who shoots him wistful looks as if the attraction is mutual - to prepare for the ball.

The ball is…overwhelming. Castiel is glad he’s got experience of royal functions or else he’d be lost. As it is, he drills names in his head and struggles to retain all the most important information. Most of the omegas cluster around Richard, Eve’s most favored son. He’s an alpha, older, powerful in every way. Within an hour of seeing him in action, Castiel is also convinced he’s cruel, capricious, selfish. He’s got several omega spouses already but his harem is yet small, he’ll need many more if he’s to be monarch, and the omega suitors flock in an effort to gain his favor.

Castiel doesn’t flock.

Castiel doesn’t want his favor.

Somehow, he gets it anyway. Richard follows him around, drags him into dances, pursues him, seems baffled and then angry that Castiel doesn’t reciprocate. He smells noxious to Castiel, though, and all Castiel wants is a quiet match, some safety for his kingdom, maybe someone he can be himself with for just an hour a day instead of having to pretend 24/7 that he believes in everything Purgatory stands for.

Roman finally backs off, thankfully, beguiled by more willing omegas - they started as virgins but many won’t be by the end of the night - and Castiel goes to meet others. The alpha children vary widely from quiet and introspective to brazen like Roman, but even the most apparently kind…well, alpha children who don’t compete for Eve’s dubious affections die, killed by their siblings or by others in the palace and beyond, so Castiel knows full well who he’s dealing with.

His biggest shock, though, is when, after only three dances, a bear of an alpha son named Benny asks Castiel to marry him.

Castiel requests the evening to think it over, but Benny - with a meaningful look towards Richard - suggests Castiel not delay too long. Subtle querying commences and Castiel learns that Benny is middle-of-the-road, not bottom of Eve’s favor but not top either. In their interactions he seems nice enough, and unobtrusive. Compared to the others Castiel has met…well, at least he likes Benny, and can tolerate his scent. With a wide range of shitty options…

…well, he’s better than Richard.

Castiel says yes.

They’re married that night, as are many other couples, settling before the formal courtship is concluded.

Dean escorts him to their marriage chamber, looking forlorn, and before the door tells him in hurried undertones that Benny is alright but Richard isn’t so easily deterred. It wouldnt be the first time Richard - whom Dean calls Dick - had a sibling killed to claim an omega he wanted, and that Castiel was now neck deep in local politics and would have to be careful. Benny is one of the good ones, and Castiel is his first and only spouse, but they’re in grave danger until Dick gets distracted by a new toy.

“I wish you were one of those I could wed,” Castiel blurts as they part ways.

“So do I,” Dean replies, his longing, forlorn expression impossible to misinterpret. But he turns and leaves.

Castiel loses his virginity to Benny that night.

And its alright. Benny is alright. Things will be alright, he supposes.

The next day, Castiel is neck deep in politics more complex than anything he’s ever imagined. And things are definitely not alright.

I don’t have it all thought through after that but…

- Dean, who continues assigned as Castiel’s personal guard, is head over heels for Castiel

- Castiel falls pretty hard for him as well

- but Castiel is also increasingly fond of his husband. Beneath an easy going attitude Benny is brilliant, tough, and at least attempts to do good in little ways. Castiel could have done much worse.

- Dick Roman is obsessed with Cas and wants him

- Dean, Castiel will learn, was once the most favored guard in the palace but he did…something (saved a baby that kind of thing) that pissed eve off which is why he’s now on babysitting duty. He is one of Eve’s children but is a beta so can’t participate in the competition for supremacy.

- Cas suspects Dean and Benny have “had a thing.” He also suspects that Benny solicited Castiels hand so quickly - which seemed out of character from the stolid, single alpha - because Dean suggested it. Though they’d barely met…Castiel doesn’t really get why.

- Roman realizes that Dean is a lot of why Benny keeps surviving Romans murder attempts so he plans an ambush for Dean while he and Cas are walking through the palace - he offers an alpha non-family member family status if he’ll kill Dean (a tall order, Deans the best warrior in the kingdom, and that’s saying something) and bring Castiel to Roman. Dean loses the fight, mostly because the asshole alpha keeps targeting Cas, recognizing that Cas is Deans weakness. Cas thinks Dean is dead and is dragged off to Romans quarters. (This is the end of my dream, when I woke up)

- Roman is nuts. Happily shares all his sadistic plans for Benny while promising Cas that Roman will be a kind, loving husband once Castiel concedes to be his. He’ll even spare Benny’ s life is Cas cooperates… extremely dubious consent smut happens.

- afterwards, while Roman sleeps off his debauchery, Cas escapes and returns to his and Benny’s quarters. There he’s surprised to find Benny arming for battle and a gravely injured Dean lying in their bed. Apparently, Dean dragged himself all the way across the palace to warn Benny what had happened but it took too long for Benny to try for an immediate rescue so instead he as gonna try stealth while everyone slept.

- Dean thinks Benny and Cas should flee immediately. They both refuse because if they leave Dean he’ll die. Cas suggests he could tolerate Roman until Dean heals enough to depart but Benny and Dean refuse to consider that a viable option. Ultimately they can only agree to stick together so they barricade the rooms and decide to linger even a could days so Dean can travel.

- next morning is a disaster and they have to leave immediately. Out the window. Dean nearly dies.

- long difficult journey fleeing with all the authorities of Purgatory after them and Dean unconscious.

- rescued by Sam, who has been leading a resistance against Eve’s reign.

- endgame is something like Cas killing Roman, Dean killing eve, and them all leaving Purgatory in chaos for nicer climes. And of course Dean/Cas/Benny. :)

Chapter Text

In the interest of maybe NOT writing incest this time, I got to thinking and here’s what I came up with.

When omega Dean starts dating alpha Castiel Novak, he thinks he’s got a pretty good thing going. Cas is egalitarian, open, sick to death with antiquated ideas of the proper role for an omega and an alpha. They have fun when they’re out, have a great time in the sack regardless of who tops and who bottoms. The downsides, well…they’re not exclusive, which normally wouldn’t bother Dean, but it’s starting to get to him and he’s leery of just what that means…and Cas never invites him over.


Until, finally, he does.

And Dean meets Cas’ roommates.

It’s unusual enough for three alphas to room together. Michael and Gabriel act as protective as of Castiel as older brothers but all three assure Dean they are most definitely not family. Which is probably a good thing, since he catches Michael and Gabriel, um, en flagrante, and Gabriel’s is all too happy to deflect the situation to point out that it least it wasn’t Gabriel and Cas en flagrante.

Three alphas.

Room mates.

Who, apparently, bang each other enthusiastically.

And who all smell pretty good.

And who all keep scenting Dean.

And who are all damn hot.

And funny. And smart. And interesting.

And Dean is starting to think…maybe it’s a good thing that he and Cas aren’t exclusive…

Chapter Text

Dean is a sailor, and in his brief swims over the course of a lifetime he’s seen many wonders beneath the waves. The world beneath the water is so diverse, so beautiful, but as a human, restricted to breathing air, vulnerable to the bends, he’ll never see it except in brief glimpses. Not like the merpeople, inhumanly strong, capable of breathing above water and below, able to swim as fast as the finest ship in the fleet for hours on end. If he could live beneath the waves, what couldn’t he do? The world could be his oyster (yeah yeah he knows it’s a terrible pun).

Dean hears a rumor, a whisper of a whisper, of a wizard named Alistair who might be able to grant his wish. The rumors also say that Alistair is evil, and his spells come with a price.

Dean is willing to pay any price.

So he finds Alistair.

And learns that some prices are too high.

But he gets his wish. When the agony and torment and unspeakable abuse finally end, Dean is left floating in the ocean, too weak to swim even if he knew how to use his new fish tail. Mute from trauma, starving, still barely healed, he’d have died if not for the unexpected, unsolicited kindness of…someone. Dean doesn’t know who. He never sees his benefactor, and at first he is skeptical of the food and medicines left for him, many only barely recognizable as food or medicine. But he’s desperate so he takes the chance and slowly he puts on weight, slowly he heals, slowly he learns to use his fins to explore the depths.

Slowly the magic of the undersea world rekindles Dean’s will to live. The price was still too high but at least he’s free, at least the ocean is amazing.

His helper stops when he grows self sufficient.

*I have to find them,* Dean resolves. *I have to thank them for saving me.*

So Dean embarks on a journey that’ll take him across the seven seas, reveal to him that there are far more wonders than merpeople beneath the wave, heal him mind and soul, and find him love in the many arms of a mysterious half human with blue eyes and dark hair.

And somewhere in the darkest depths, Alistair lurks, eager to reclaim Dean and make him his protege…

Chapter Text

Victor is a bored king. He puts out a lackadaisical call to his kingdom: don’t put yourselves out or anything, but send me gifts to entertain me. The presents flood in, from the little girl who sends him her favorite doll to the inventor who’s latest invention fills the throne room with smoke and burns a royal tapestry to ash. More gifts come than Victor can go through in a lifetime - he’s a popular monarch, and a benevolent one - but one in particular catches his eye: a beautiful young man wearing the collar of a slave, the name tag on which identifies him as “Yuuri,” nothing more. There’s no indication of who sent the slave, and he doesn’t talk, not a word, not a peep, but he dances…oh, he dances.

Victor tries to find the words to describe that dance - as graceful as a swan, as powerful as a lion, as lithe as a gazelle - but no comparison can do the slave justice. He dances as beautifully and perfectly as Yuuri, and Victor is enthralled. The diaphanous clothing the slave wears only enhances the appeal, fabrics near sheer, light and flowing, twirling around his body.

Victor is well pleased with his gift.

His pleasure transforms to disgust and fury that night, though, when he returns to his bed chamber to find Yuuri naked in his bed, offering himself without question, without fear or hope or expectation. Victor of course rebukes him, he’s not a monster to take physical advantage of a slave (no matter how alluring that slave is), and Yuuri misunderstands the rebuke. All the grace he used in dancing is turned into a cruel mockery of grace as Yuuri dextrously turns from presenting himself for making love to presenting himself for punishment. Though his bare skin is unmarred, he reacts with no more fear to the prospect of punishment than he reacted with pleasure to the prospect of making love. Not even resignation is suggested by Yuuri’s face or body language, only acceptance: this is his role, this is his purpose. Whoever owned him previously trained him, broke him, used him. Rage fills Victor, but he restrains himself from expressing it lest he spook the slave. Slavery has never sat right with him, and all the worst horrors suggested by Yuuri’s behavior are why. Victor will not let this stand.

Yuuri is baffled when Victor refuses to punish him, even more baffled when Victor wraps a blanket around his bare shoulders - Yuuri’s clothing seems to have vanished, did he walk to the royal chambers naked?? - and escorts Yuuri back to his assigned quarters. Only when Victor gently urges him into the room, turns down his offer of sexual favors again, and bids him goodnight, does an expression enter the young man’s eyes: gratefulness, understanding, appreciation, respect, surprise.

Walking back to his chambers, Victor resolves on two things: 

First, he is going to find out who gifted him the slave and he is going to punish them so completely and so publicly that the next ten generations will remember and no slave will go through whatever broke Yuuri so completely.

Second, he is going to woo Yuuri as Yuuri deserves, heal him, help him, encourage him, and when - if - Victor ever beds Yuuri, it will be because Yuuri, as a free man, has chosen to be with his king. No - has chosen to be with Victor.

Well, at least Victor isn’t bored anymore.

(Spoilers, the first sounds Yuuri ever makes are moans of desire, and the first word he speaks is Victor, whispered in a cracked, worn voice with adoration into the quiet of the night as Victor worships him…)

Guys I keep having ideas for Yuri on Ice Viktuuri AUs and I have no time and I want to write all of them. *sigh* (this one brought to you by two hours of insomnia last night)

(And I think I’d have Yuuri’s owner be an OC - there’s no one I dislike enough in Yuri on Ice to put them in the position of being a villain who has done what’s been done to Yuuri - past non-con, past torture, use of magic to keep him without scars or blemishes…I was running through characters in my head and the worst I could come up with was Georgi but even then…so much of what I love about Yuri on Ice is how no one is really a bad guy and ultimately everyone gets along, which makes writing a story like this tough but I don’t want to, like, ruin that vibe by putting any of our characters in that kind of evil role…) 

Chapter Text

So after umpteen zillion years I’ve *finally* had an idea for a soulmates AU (of course when I have no time to write one).

Dean is driving, minding his own business, when some asshole runs a stop sign and side swipes him while he’s turning left. It’s not a bad accident but he whacks his head on the steering wheel bad enough to be knocked temporary unconscious. When he opens his eyes, he’s in an ambulance being driven to the hospital for treatment…but when they ask if he’s alright he’s too dazed to answer because he can see *color* for the first time. He’d heard that soulmate connections could be made by sleeping people - apparently they can be made by unconscious people, too - and in the 20 minutes or so he was out, his unconscious body interacted with the people in the other car, the other drivers who stopped because of their wreck, the pedestrians who stopped to rubberneck, and all the first responders - cops, firemen, emts…and someone in that mess is his soulmate.

At least, he consoles himself, whoever it was ALSO is now seeing in color - and if they were awake (likely) they should have a much more immediate realization of the moment, AND Dean was the guy knocked unconscious - heck, local news might been there too, and it might be one of them, or they might say his name on air! Regardless, if they’re looking for him too, especially if he goes to one of those “soulconnect” websites, he should be able to find the person, right?

Except days pass. And weeks pass. Dean is able to assemble only the barest list of who was present - the police officers who wrote the initial report, the people in the other car, the EMTs, and it doesn’t seem to be any of them. And no one reports a missing soulmate to match his story (he has a couple false positives but meeting them makes clear the lie).

His soulmate doesn’t want to find him.

It’s disappointing but Dean tries to move on.

Then, one night at a bar, a beautiful, dark haired stranger walks by Dean and then stops, astonished, staring with his mouth agape. When Dean doesn’t react beyond looking baffled, the man grows confused.

“Nothing? No change?” asks the stranger.


“That’s impossible! I see color now! We *must* be soulmates!”

Dean demures but the guy is so convincing…and hot…that he finds himself genuinely wondering what gives. Dean explains his own weird soulmate situation and the guy - Jimmy, he says his name is - shrugs it off. Nope, no connection.

Well, thinks Dean, if my soulmate isn’t interested…and Jimmy is…and Jimmy truly thinks we’re soulmates…why not give it a try?

It’s a long time before Dean learns of the existence of Jimmy’s estranged twin brother Castiel…estranged because of Castiel’s insistence that his own twin was his soulmate, his claim that he’s seen color since they were teenagers…

Castiel is a firefighter.

So, if Castiel is Deans soulmate, and Dean is Jimmy’s soulmate, and Jimmy is Castiel’s soulmate…what does that make the three of them?

(A DCJ/poly soulmate au. For reasons.)

Chapter Text

Despite all their best efforts, Dean, Cas and Benny haven’t been able to escape from Purgatory. Cas constantly flitting off doesn’t help. In fact, it kinda…sorta…*really* pisses Dean off. Isn’t Dean team martyr? So why does Cas keep running off, claiming it’s too protect Dean? They manage best when they’re *together*, the three of them.

Benny is nice and all, but he’s not Cas…

And so they look for a way out of Purgatory, and they look for Castiel, and they fight and they fight and they fight.

The first sign that something is very amiss is a sudden influx of new souls. They’re all monsters, but they’re inexperienced, naive, as confused to be in Purgatory as Dean had once been. They still have a certain glow of mortality, a warmth that only comes from earth.

The second sign that something is very amiss is when the regular monsters begin binding together to fight. Not just vamps with vamps aand weres with weres, no, they’re forming larger organizations. Managing with just Benny at his side grows harder, and if Cas is keeping enemies at bay… well, either he’s not it there had been a huge spike in monster activity in a place that was already the most dangerous Dean could imagine.

Speaking of Cas… he’s been missing a much longer time than usual. Months. Dean is itching to see him, thinking things that he knows are wrong but he can’t resist about his angel…

…his angel…

And the third sign that something has gone terribly wrong?

Thatd be Kevin showing up. And asking where Charlie is. Kevin won’t explain why he ended up in Purgatory but he will say - the world had fallen. There was no earth to go back to.

So now Dean is looking for Charlie, and Sam, and their other friends…and Sam…*and* Cas.

And figure out what happened above.

And somehow save a world they can’t even get back to.

And still deal with the endless nightmare that is purgatory.

And somewhere in there Dean should probably admit to himself…and someone, anyone, else…that he’s finally figured out why Cas missing upsets him so badly, and it ain’t platonic.

Chapter Text

So, um, fuck or die.

Something something magnetic fields something something SCIENCE draws the castle to a truly beautiful world, all lush tropical forests and sparkling expanses of ocean, and somehow all the local flora and fauna seems relatively benign, and best of all scans reveal the planet is rich in weneedite, a rare compound that is vital the functioning of the castles air, water and food reclamation systems. Several places on the surface ping as having weneedite, so the paladins split up into teams to go investigate. Shiro goes alone, Keith goes with Lance, Pidge with Hunk.

On the surface the planet is every bit as gorgeous as it appeared from orbit. Keith and Lance find their weneedite in a glimmering underground cavern filled with faceted crystals, and return to the ship soon after with the needed ore, a bunch of crystals, and a cute fuzzy ball that sings. Pidge and Hunk delve into a coral reef, and underwater grotto verdant with life - Pidge is actually kind of disturbed because seriously wtf how does this ecosystem function without predators? And she’s super on edge but despite her worries nothing goes wrong and they also return with the weneedite.

Shiro really wants to hate the planet. Seriously. But as he steps into a forest glade surrounded by the music of some singing animal (or plant?) and is confronted by a spectacular waterfall, sunlight shimmering to make a rainbow overhead…even he can’t deny. They’ve kinda found paradise. And…its nice. There are no Golra, no memories here, no monsters to be wary of. There’s just beauty, and fluffy harmless things, and a lovely chorus of song and a fantastic smell and somewhere is the weneedite but there doesn’t seem to be any hurry and that water looks mighty tasty and maybe it’d be okay if he just takes a load off for a few minutes, basks in the warmth, has a sip or two or three…

Back on the castle, they all quietly smiles. Shiro *never* relaxes. Let him have a few minutes.

And then shit starts going wrong.

The cute animal causes a flesh-eating disease, and Lance is down for the count, locked in a healing pod to fix the illness and keep it from spreading. Half the weneedite is corrupted, but might be savable, so Pidge and Coran get to work frantically trying to salvage as much as they can. Hunk ate…something…and can’t leave the bathroom long enough to tell anyone what. Allura is getting a niggling sense that something is wrong with the sensors so she’s buried her mind deep in the computer to try and make sense of the readings.

Which means Keith is the only one available to hear Shiro’s increasingly worrying meandering talk. “Wow it’s so pretty” shifts to “Ya know I don’t feel so hot” shifts to “have I ever told you how much you mean to me, Keith?” shifts to panting breathing and mumbled suggestions that something is wrong, and when Keith demands answers he gets none. Alarmed, he returns to the planet…

…to find Shiro, naked before the pool, masturbating like his life depends on it, surrounded by sparkling rainbow motes like something straight out of a shojo manga.

Shiro looks up, their eyes meet, and with a groan, he comes.

And that really shouldn’t be hot.

And it really is.

Except…that’s not it. Shiro is still hard, and feverish, and maybe hallucinating, and when Keith gets close enough to check on him Shiro paws at him, broken pleas for help and satisfaction mingling with equally broken acknowledgement that something is wrong and he’s not acting like himself and he can’t control himself and he feels so hot and would Keith please, please, *please* help him.

There really only seems to be one solution.

And if Keith has secretly dreamed of being the object of his mentor, leader, and friends desires for…a long time? Well, it’s a planet for wish fulfillment, right?

It’s quite sometime before the others have solved the problems above and are able to check on the two paladins, and by then, Keith and Shiro are thoroughly debauched…its hard to tell if Keith is infected to, they are both delirious and…messy…so rather than deal the others shove both men in healing pods, hope for the best, and wish they could scrub certain things they saw from their memories forever.

There’s a healing process after, of course - Shiro feels incredibly guilty - but they work it out in the end…

Chapter Text

  1.       Grant (little Steve) and Steve (big Steve) are the grandchildren of a deposed king, and could theoretically make a bid for the throne, but instead they joined the army of the kingdom of Washington, both rose to the rank of Captain, gained renown and the attention of the Gods by their feats of heroism, and now they work independently much of the time, aiding Washington and ensuring that the gods continue to smile on the kingdom – through their deeds, the brothers see the will of the gods done on earth, and that has won them many allies, high and low. Now, they are visiting a town to meet with a man named James Barnes to discuss hiring him for a job. Barnes has been recommended to them by the gods, especially Tony Stark, god of craftspeople, blacksmithing, an invention. 
  2.       On their way to visit Barnes, Grant and Steve are ambushed. A group attacks them, more than a dozen men, and a wizard with a dazzling wand throws a spell Steve’s way, and he begins to transform. Together, Grant and Steve could defeat so many, but Grant can’t manage it solo, and Steve screams and writhes as he transforms. Grant tries to grab him but Steve lashes out with fingers turned to taloned paws, finishes changing, then runs. Alone and set upon, Grant flees to find Barnes and hopes Barnes is as good as Stark said.
  3.       Bucky is hang out at a bar, waiting for his meeting, when a breathless Grant comes in. Bucky recognizes him from Tony’s description, and they return to the ambush site with minimal conversation, only to find the attackers gone and Steve gone.
  4.       Bucky and Grant have a talk and decide to go after Steve.
  5.       Bucky and Grant bond over several days of traveling together. Bucky likes him a lot.
  6.       They find Steve out in the forest, alone, naked and scared. He’s human again and his memories of the time he was “missing” are fragmented. He has no idea why he changed the first time, why he changed back to a man, or if it will happen again. All concerned, they contact Tony, but he indicates he hasn’t got a clue – why would they think he’d know anything about animal transformations? That’s not his thing – but he mentions a man he’s heard of, Bruce Banner, who transforms into a hulk as a result of a curse from the gods.
  7.       So they go on a quest to locate this “Hulk.”
  8.       As they journey, they get to know each other. Steve doesn’t change again. Bucky is conflicted. On the one hand, Grant is amazing. On the other hand, Steve is also amazing. And they both seem to like him, and they both say suggestive things to him, and he’s pretty sure they’d each be interested in…something…but, well, both? Not okay. Since Bucky has spent more time with Grant, he focuses his flirtation more in that direction, but he still dreams about Steve pinning him down and taking him.
  9.       They stop outside a town where they think there might be info about Banner; Grant goes ahead to scout the area and buy some supplies. Steve and Bucky stay at their campsite. They’re just messing around – Bucky’s going to teach Steve to fish – and when Steve touches the fish hook, he transforms into a wolf. Touching metal (I’m still considering the best way to handle this but I’m thinking Loki would find it amusing if touching his shield caused Captain America to transform into a wolf…) is what triggers the change – they hadn’t been in a fight since they found him so it just hadn’t come up.
  10.   Wolf Steve has no inhibitions, pins Bucky does just like Bucky had been dreaming, and okay, yeah, it’s really damn good sex.
  11.   Grant returns to find a human Steve and Bucky, both apparently asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.
  12.   Big group talk, ends in the three of them tentatively agreeing to be in a relationship together.
  13.   Do some testing, confirm what causes Steve to transform, and confirm that they only way they know of for him to have sex. There’s gotta be another way, consider Steve’s situation the first time, but they don’t know what yet. This at least gives them SOME control over when he changes.
  14.   More questing, find Banner. They have a conversation, gist of which is that he has no idea what happened to them. They say thanks and bye.
  15.   About a half-a-day’s-travel away, they get another idea and go back to talk to Banner more.
  16.   He’s gone – clearly violently taken. They find evidence that suggests the people who took Banner are the same people as cursed Steve.
  17.   A woman ambushes them, furious, demanding to know what they did to Banner. It’s Natasha. They talk her down from trying to kill them (there’s probably a transformation in there…) and the four team up to go find Bruce.
  18.   While there are still details to work out, I think the gist of the plot is, “Loki is trying to build a very powerful army, but he’s been having trouble finding his recruits, so he’s using Bucky, Grant and Steve to locate the people, and then he’s capturing them and turning them.” There are some plot holes in that, though – I definitely need to think about it more. Bucky was chosen because he was Tony’s friend and Loki thought it likely that Tony would mention him to the twins, and the purpose of THAT meeting had actually been to draw the twins out and capture them, but it went haywire, and afterwards when Bucky, Steve and Grant were all together he realized the potential in having his brainwashee and the twins working together to do his work for him.
  19.   This pattern will repeat a couple more times – with Sam (who I think is either a harpy or a winged lamassu)  and…um…not sure – but after the third person gets abducted right after meeting them, they start to suspect something is amiss. Natasha is suspicious of Bucky and leaves to do her own research. The twins defend Bucky.
  20.   Smut. “I love you’s” are exchanged.
  21.   Realizing that with their suspicions up now, Bucky’s usefulness is ending, Loki triggers Bucky’s programming and has Bucky bring his lovers into custody, then sends Bucky on his way. The twins are useful in many ways, but Bucky? Sure he’s tough and all, and metal arm, but compared to a Hulk?  Who needs Bucky?
  22.   Bucky wanders off, disconsolate, and starts to try to figure out how to rescue the twins from a God.
  23.   Ends up reuniting with Natasha, who has joined up with her friend Clint, and the three of them plot together. It’s clear that now that Loki has his army he’s planning something big (uh, I have no idea what yet).
  24.   Meanwhile things are very bad for Steve and Grant. They don’t know Bucky didn’t knowingly betray them. Steve, especially wolfed out, is strong and worthy but Loki looks down on Grant and only took him because they were twins. Grant kinda becomes Loki’s punching bag, metaphorically and literally. With so many prisoners, Loki’s mind control powers are stretched to the limit, and when he doesn’t HAVE to control people, he doesn’t, so most of the prisoners are in isolated cells. Sam, Bruce, Steve and Grant, some other folks, all plot to escape.
  25.   Thor and his Asgardians join Bucky, Natasha and Clint. It takes some convincing, but Bucky agrees to consult Tony, who appears and attacks him for what he did to the twins. There’s a big fight but the end up settling down without hurting each other too too badly and they figure out what to do about Loki.
  26.   The prisoners are on the verge of escaping when Loki and his allies consolidate their power and use their control to launch their attack. I think Loki has been using Wanda in some fashion to enhance his powers.
  27.   So all the Loki-controlled folks end up fighting all the non-Loki controlled folks. Big ol’ fight. Pretty much everyone from Civil War, if divided onto somewhat different sides. Wolfed out Steve really has it in for Bucky (look what he did to them! Look what happened to GRANT! How could Bucky let that happen?
  28.   Stuff happens. Yeah, I know, that’s specific, but I think at least the mind-control ends when Bucky figures out a way to break the spell.
  29.   Loki is defeated, most likely by Grant, because reasons. (Loki considered Grant weak and expendable, so clearly Grant has to be the one to defeat him)
  30.   A whole bunch of consequences play out, people make peace with each other, friendships are forged, etc.
  31.   Steve, Bucky and Grant have a big conversation after Nat points out they’re all being morons.
  32.   Make up smut.
  33.   Avengers Assemble!

Chapter Text

When Victor’s employers send him for an extended stay in the United States, he’s resigned. The operation can’t work without high-level subordinates in the States, and he figured it was only a matter of time before he was expected to do a stint. When they send young Yuri Plisetsky with him, he’s quietly exasperated…he hates training the teen to kill, it feels all wrong, especially the manic glint in Yuri’s eyes when he gets a gun in his eyes, but…well, if Victor is training him, maybe he can keep Yuri from going off the deep end. Some of the others, like Georgi, wouldn’t worry how batshit and inhuman Yuri ended up and Yuri deserves better than that.

So far, so par for the course. No surprises. Business as usual.

The bakery is a surprise. The bakery is…totally left field, earth shattering, seriously what the fuck.

They need a cover, Yakov explains. And an easy excuse to get both men a visa. And when they looked through their available properties the bakery, located on a quiet side street in Boston, was the only place that met all their specifications for availability, location, time commitment, etc. 

So…somehow…when Victor isn’t doing assassinations and isn’t racketeering and isn’t training Yuri…

…he’s waking up at 4 am to make croissants?

Cause of course it’s not even a Russian bakery.

He’s done a lot of weird shit in his life but this one takes the cake.

And damn it that pun was NOT intentional.

And so things go. The bakery could be in the red and Yakov would still fund it but they…actually do pretty well? Their recipes are solid. Yuri pretends to hate baking but gets this dopey smile when he’s covered in flour and someone compliments his beignets. And the open floor plan for the bakery means they gain a contingent of regulars who stand and ogle them as they bake and…

…okay, Victor is actually kinda having fun.

And wants the bakery to succeed.

But he and Yuri don’t really have time to put in the effort the business requires. So he has a crazy plan - hire another employee.

Yakov says no.

Won’t it improve our cover? Victor points out.

Yakov says no.

We need to look like we’re actually bakers! Victor points out.

Yakov says no.

We could branch out and really build a reputation!

Which is the last thing we want! Yakov says no.

Pretty please with cream on top?

Yakov says no.


Victor puts in the time the bakery actually requires, even when it means neglecting other work.

Yakov is furious and threatens to shut the whole operation down.

…or just let me hire someone?

Yakov throws his hands up and says yes.

As popular as the bakery is, they get a LOT of applicants, and after scads of interviews and stages, they finally settle on a young man recently graduated from culinary school and an absolute whiz with a piping bag - Katsuki Yuri. That he’s young and hot also helps, they have an image to maintain after all.

Yuri K works hard and asks no questions about their absences and Victor is delighted with his choice. 

But as time goes on and the things Yuri K ignores grows more egregious - Victor and Yuri’s cover story thinner - Victor starts to wonder if maybe he’s the one who should have asked more questions.

Who IS Katsuki, anyway??


In reply to a couple follow up questions:

>Oh my god this is great! But now I have to know, is Yuuri an assassin too? Because that would be awesome :D

I’m kinda thinking…he’s from a crime family and he wanted out so he went to culinary school and before he even went to Victor’s bakery he had a hunch what they were actually up to and was thinking the protection wouldn’t hurt. I suspect his past will find him…probably within 24 hours of Victor and him declaring their feelings for each other…

>Ooh, I love that even more, poor yuuri just wants to cook and leave the family business behind so naturally he’d fall in love with an assassin while working in a bakery that’s only a front

on the one hand it is a little sad but I’m just imagining lile chubby Yuri in an adorable apron greeting, like, grinning adorable blood spattered Victor with a cute cake and a “honey how’d the job go?” Where else would Victor find that kind of acceptance


Chapter Text

Victor has been single for a while, and he might be greying a smidge sexually frustrated. At least he’s got an active fantasy life. What starts as an idle fantasy, one among many, slowly developes into a relatively cohesive narrative about a lover named Eros who whisks into town with a promise of all the no strings attached sex that Victor could want. The fantasy remains faceless but the masturbating is… Okay, it’s pretty amazing. Almost too amazing. Heck, it’s so good that when Victor goes and tries to find a real lover, he’s… underwhelmed. It’s insane to think that his imagination, his hand and a toy are better… But it’s better. Much better.


Yuri isn’t sure who summoned him and set him on Victor’s lovely ass, but they made a woke bunch of amateur mistakes. An experienced demon summoner specifies a time frame for doing the job, so that they’re vengeance will come quickly, and puts controls on the incubus so they don’t stray and cause mischief. Yuri, on the other hand, has been given virtual carte blanche.

Not that he’s complaining.

Literally and figuratively, Victor is *delicious.*

Magic makes it easy to weasel his way into Victor’s fantasies, and to blur the line between reality and those fantasies. In a half awake stupor, Victor can’t tell when he segues from riding a toy to riding Yuri’s dick, and the more nights they’re together, the easier it gets. There’s no fun in feeding off a victim all at once, no, Yuri savors Victor, every drop of his soul, every bit of his essence, taking so slowly that they can be together for a mortal lifetime if Yuri feels like it, filling every fantasy for the lonely businessman.

Yuri is having more fun than he’s had in a long time.


Victor’s coworkers start to notice that he’s… kinda tired, kinda spent, and think he has a new boyfriend. Victor says nothing. He’s embarrassed that he’s… pretty obsessed with his faceless Eros. And he’s also starting to get a little worried. He’s heard stories about demons and such, of course, but curses and summons are expensive and no one would waste something like that on Victor. He’s a successful middle manager but there are better targets out there.

Besides, if he was cursed, wouldn’t bye be dead already? Like, a demon can drain a victim in literally a night, but Victor has been imagining Eros for months.

Still, curious and maybe a smidge worried, victor tries to stay awake, tries to resist his fantasies but he can’t. Instead, every night the doubts that plagued him during the day fade and all he feels is… fantastic. Owned, cared for, fucked senseless, whether he tops or bottoms or 69s.

Maybe… it doesnt matter if he’s bespelled. He’s having fun. And its the easiest “relationship” he’s ever had. And besides he’s still not sure he’s not delusional.


Yuri might like Victor a little too much…

… so much so that one day, when Victor dozes off during his lunch break and starts to fantasize, Yuri decides to put in an appearance. No one will see him, he can be invisible. He massages Victor’s back, whispering instructions on Victor’s ear - take out your cock, stroke yourself gently, keep everything hidden under the desk - and it’s a good, as delicious, add always.

Victor owns Yuri as surely as Yuri owns Victor.

…oh well.

Victor comes with a soft moan of his made up name for Yuri - Eros - and splatters the underside of his deal with semen. A burst of ecstasy and energy blasts Yuri, inundates his senses and life is…pretty great. Satisfied, Yuri tries to port back out to Victor’s apartment.

Except he *can’t.*

He’s trapped in the corporate head quarters, snagged by the defensive spells meant to keep spirits and demons out of the building.



That night, Victor’s usually steamy, fantastic fantasies are lackluster. Maybe he used up all his kink when he jerked off at work? That…wasnt his best decision.

But it did feel good.

Well, he’s not getting any younger. Maybe twice in one day was expecting too much.


Over the following week, Victor comes to realize something is very, very wrong. Something - someone? - Is missing. And while he supposes he should be upset at the mounting evidence that he has been a demon victim, mostly he’s worried. Eros never hurt him. Much. The hickies don’t count. Victor wanted those. He wanted everything that Eros gave him.

And now…Eros is gone.

*Why* is Eros gone?


Over the following week, Yuri gets increasingly nervous. There are a couple other spirits trapped in the building and one tells him that every two weeks a service comes through and exorcises everyone who has been caught. The only reason Phichit has been spared is that he’s so low-power they can’t detect him, so he just chills. A powerful, juiced up incubus like Yuri? Is gonna get banished straight to hell.

Yuri doesn’t want to leave.

He likes Victor.

He…he maybe cares about Victor. A little.

And Victor doesn’t know he exists.

And for the first time it dawns on Yuri…all the things about this summons that made no sense? What if Victor wasn’t the target? What if Yuri was, and all that apparently lax spell casting was to lull him into ease and trap him in the office building and get him permanently banished from the mortal plain?

If he’s denied access to mortal lovers Yuri will die slowly and painfully.

He can’t escape without help. Phichit is a nice enough ghost but no help, and the only person who can help Yuri is Victor…

…but going to Victor would mean confessing how he’s used Victor over the past months…

…and mortals are generally not cool with the dubious consent thing and the incubus lover thing or, well, any of the things that Yuri has been doing. Victor is just as likely to tell Yuri to go fuck himself.

And Yuri can’t get sustenance from masturbation!

And meanwhile the question remains…who summoned Yuri, and why are they trying to kill him?

(Spoilers…I have no idea is trying to kill Yuri but I know when Yuri works up the nerve to talk to Victor, Victor will be put out but not surprised and there will be a bunch of kinky office sex to help sustain Yuri and get him powered up enough to survive this whole thing…)

Chapter Text

Katsuki Yuuki has never thought much about her gender. She’s always just been…who she is?…and no one in her family has been particularly fixed on gender roles and as a teenage dancer her gender didn’t make much difference. Her appearance was pretty androgynous (not necessary to be trans of course, simply a truth in this case) and she rarely dressed in feminine clothes if she could help it and if her body sometimes felt all wrong, especially as she hit puberty and started to get some curves, and especially to menstruate, well…wasn’t that how everyone felt?

Except sometimes it was debilitating. Sometimes, she’d look in the mirror now that she had breasts and longer hair, now that she was considered a woman and expected to wear flimsy dance costumes to show off her hips, and what she saw there was so discordant and so alien that she couldn’t face herself. Minako was baffled at first, then concerned, as her star dancer grew increasingly body shy and reserved. Yuuki wasn’t the most outgoing but she was a bold performer, head held high, chin up, eyes sparkling, so to see her curled in on herself, glowering, avoiding her reflection was troubling.

It takes several months of tentative attempts at conversation before Minako gets Yuuki to admit that sometimes…often…almost always..when Yuuki sees herself, she’s horrified. It takes longer to suss out what Yuuki thinks should be different - short hair, slim build, no breasts, and…

Not just an appearance. Not just cosmetic differences. Being constantly reminded she’s female is physically and psychologically painful. In her dreams, in her fantasies, Yuuki is *always* male, including in her sexual dreams. Imagining anyone touching her as she is now is horrifying. A few guys ask her out and the reminder that they see her as female, treat her as female, causes her to have panic attacks- once even at school.

Minako helps. Japan isn’t super welcoming of trans people but Minako has traveled the world and known all sorts. She helps Yuuki explore her fears, introduces her to other trans people, even buys her her first binder and lets her dance while wearing a packer. It’s weird at first, yes, but also liberating. Yuuki feels much more comfortable that way, and even starts wearing the binder and packer under her clothes at school. People comment on the change, how much more confident she seems - still shy, still not outgoing, but no longer collapsing in on herself. A semester passes, another, and Minako is the only one who knows…but Yuuki knows.

He starts thinking of himself as “he,” using the name Yuuri in his head instead of Yuuki, and in some online communities he goes by Yuuri as well. The longer he makes the switch, the more *right* it is. And Yuuri knows. He’s not sure when he’ll come out, what he’ll do, but he knows he wants to transition - his period is torture every damn month - and he knows he wants to be Yuuri, wants others to see him as Yuuri and call him Yuuri.

The prospect of telling even his family members is petrifying. He carefully hides his masculine props, washes his binders in the sink so no one will know even though he doubts any of them would recognize the garment for what it is. He dreads telling them, dreads their reactions, even as he crumbles a little inside everytime his mom calls him Yuu-chan or his dad talks about his little girl or his sister names him kid sis.

He needs a new start.

With trembling hands, he considers the college application tabs he has open during his senior year, and he makes a decision. He’s a great dancer, he knows that, and he would qualify for a scholarship anywhere in the world. He closes all the tabs for schools on Japan and focuses on foreign schools in countries more trans-friendly. He fills them out as best he can, accurately, including his grades and extracurriculars and the essay he wrote, every word truth…

…except he puts his name as Yuuri, and puts his gender as male, and hopes like hell no one at the schools will know enough about Japanese to notice the mismatch to his transcript.

If anyone notices, they say nothing.

He gets into three schools, two in the US, one in the UK. Full scholarship for dance.

And realizes…he can’t accept without telling his family what he’s done, and why.

He tells Minako first. She’s over the moon on his behalf and offers to help him come out but he declines. He has to do this himself. After several days of waffling- and knowing looks from his family, who saw the international mail come and fear that Yuuri’s silence means he got declined admittance - he tells his sister first.

Mari knew.

Mari has known for years.

Yuuri hasn’t been as good at hiding his binders as he thought.

But Mari is as blase about it as she is about everything and her nonreaction actually really helps. Maybe it’s not such a big deal?

His parents are….extremely confused. Yuuri has breasts and a vagina, so he’s obviously a woman…right? Yuuri doesn’t have it in him to try to explain again. Mari and Minako make the attempt but the Katsukis still clearly don’t get it. They put on game faces and smiles though and do their damnedest to accept what they don’t understand, and if they occasionally still say Yuuki instead of Yuuri…at least they’re trying. The harder they try, the more Yuuri appreciates it, and the more comfortable he becomes.

And then it’s time to leave.

Moving to the US is incredible. He always was androgynous which makes it very easy for him to pass as male even without taking hormones. The college bought his lie hook, line and sinker. He’s got a male roommate in an all male dorm, and no one blinks when he introduces himself as Yuuri. One or two people ask his preferred pronouns but those people ask *everyone* their preferred pronouns, so it’s not like their singling him out. Navigating the dorms and dance locker rooms is a challenge at times but being foreign serves him well - they attribute his desire for privacy to fastidiousness and their own racist ideas of what Japanese people are like, and no one suspects as far as he knows.

He. Fucking. Loves. It.

He dances better than he ever has, makes awesome friends with some of his fellow dancers - especially a Thai student named Phichit and a Russian woman named Mila - and he feels comfortable, like himself, accepted. No one questions him. Even when he decides to come out to some of his closest friends (Phichit first) it’s without worry. He knows them well enough to know they’ll accept him. He’s not scared anymore.

Until he is.

Until he meets Victor Nikiforov.

Many of the people in the dance program are from abroad and Victor is no different; a recent graduate from a prominent Russian dance school, he arrives in January of Yuuri’s freshman year to do a year-long study of American dance forms as taught at the school.

Victor is most definitely male.

And Yuuri is most definitely crushing on him hard.

Yuuri has never had a crush - he thought he might be asexual, even, a sexuality he encountered while learning about being trans - and that he finally gets one, and it’s on a man, throws him for a loop. Sure, he’s read that gender and sexuality are unrelated and that trans women can be lesbians and trans men can be gay and all that and that’s all well and fine for other people but…

…but if Yuuri likes men, does that mean he’s actually a woman?

His friends don’t get why he’s grown more reclusive, and it’s not until Minako visits over spring break that the truth comes out. She knows Yuuri well enough to guess what he’s thinking, and manages to knock some sense into him. It’s a process…

…and is immediately followed by typical late teen “but what if he doesn’t like me?” Angst.

Minako is…kinda glad she’s leaving and won’t have to cope with that part.

Meanwhile, Victor has been intrigued by the young dancer Yuuri all along. Not only is Yuuri a beautiful young man, he’s an extraordinarily skilled dancer when he’s not flinching away from his own reflection. They’re only acquainted in a work context but he wants to know more and, more importantly, he wants to dance with Yuuri. The prospects of this improve when Yuuri comes out of spring break much less shy and much more comfortable and they share rehearsal time more often. Not long after, Victor proposes a shared dance to his advisor, gets approved, and approaches Yuuri about it.

Yuuri runs away.

Literally. Fucking. Runs. Away.

And if that isn’t the cutest shit Victor has ever seen…

…they fall adorably hard for each other over the following weeks of rehearsal, though neither has actually asked the other out (Yuuri is 19, Victor is 21 or 22, btw). Victor can’t figure out Yuuri’s random bouts of shyness and Yuuri can’t bring himself to admit he’s trans and pre-transition…Victor is gay after all, and depending on his views of trans people, he might take Yuuri coming out as Yuuri admitting “I’m a woman” and then how might Victor react? Not everyone is sanguine with seeing AFAB folks as their true gender, especially when they’ve still got girl parts…it spurs Yuuri to look into transitioning, he certainly wants to, but he doesn’t have the money or ability yet and surgery would mess with his dancing rehearsals and, and, and…

…theres always a reason…

…their performance goes great. Maybe a little too great. Afterwards, an exuberant Victor sweeps Yuuri into his arms and gives him a kiss. They freeze, stare at each other, but after so long resisting - it’s been months since they met, months since they started flirting, months since they started rehearsing together daily - Yuuri can’t deny what he wants. Victor blushes and stammers and apology and Yuuri grabs him and kisses him again, again, again, and they’re falling together and groping and touching and Victor’s erection is pressing into Yuuri’s thigh and Yuuri is high on adrenaline and performance high and the taste of Victor’s mouth.

…Victor’s hand fumbles beneath Yuuri’s pants…

…and removes his packer…

…and the moment shatters.

Victor has no idea what’s going on.

Yuuri is mortified.

Unable to find words, sure that the confusion on Victor’s face is betrayal and condemnation, Yuuri runs away.

Cue the silliest, dirtiest Cinderella AU campus has ever seen - “I must find the man that fits this packer…”

It takes Phichit talking Yuuri off a (purely metaphorical, thank you) ledge before he’ll agree to talk to Victor.

But they talk.

And they work it out.

And Victor is horrified that Yuuri was ever worried that Victor would see Yuuri as anything other than a man. Victor admits in heartfelt language that Yuuri is the most beautiful, wonderful man he’s known, and shyly suggests just how lost his heart already is.

Needless to say their relationship gets instantly much better, though still not as intimate as either might like. Physical stuff is pretty triggering for Yuuri, reminds him too much of everything he doesn’t have.

So Victor finds him scholarship programs to help him pay for his transition. And extends his stay at the school.

The party that Phichit and the other dancers arrange for Yuuri after his transition ultimately goes down in campus history…

Chapter Text

Omegas are rare, and treated as though they’re precious, and while Yuri knows those around him mean well it drives him crazy. He never gets time to himself, never can escape the pressure of being an omega. He has to find the perfect mate, and - more importantly - be kept far away from the many less than ideal mates out there.

In particular, he must *never* go near the forest. Yuri, though an omega, is *human* and he is to mate a human alpha. If one of the beasts of the forest were to scent him, it would be a disaster.

…but forests sound really nice…

…Yuri can see one from the balcony of his family home, and it looks so calming, so secluded, so beautiful, echoing with bird song and a soothing rustling when the wind blows. He knows he shouldn’t go - fears he’s just being contrary, chafing at the well-intentioned restrictions that trap him…but he really wants to go.


The last thing Victor expected was to end up living in a forest in Japan with a bunch of native types of were. When Russia started their were crack down, though, he had little choice but to flee. Unable to take a plane or even get a bus ticket due to the numerous regulations governing were behavior and movement, Victor headed north and east seeking safety only to be driven onto the Siberian ice. He was pretty sure he was doomed…yet in the end he washed up on an ice floe on the coast of what turned out to be Hokkaido. Weres are feared in Japan but they have a strange cultural place and are almost accepted, as something between humans and the Shinto gods of nature. From Victor’s point of view it’s all pseudo religious nonsense but, well, he’s no expert and who is he to shit on traditions that keep him safe and alive? There are several wolf packs in the forest where he lives but while they don’t shun Victor, they don’t welcome him either. As a human, well, he’s obviously white and stands out, and as a wolf he’s larger and huskier than the local species, and his coat is pure silver - opinions vary from thinking hes blessed and sacred to thinking hes cursed and an ill omen and everything in between. Whatever. It’s all fine. He’s alive, he’s got a small cabin to call home the 25 some-odd days he’s not a wolf, he’s picked up some Japanese, and where once he’d have said long term seclusion would drive him insane…he’s actually grown to like it…


Yuri doesn’t *mean* to run away from home. His taste of freedom was only supposed to last one night. It’s euphoric at first, slipping out the doors, sliding down a support beam for the porch, running of the hill road toward the freedom of the forest. He didn’t count on how dark it’d be under the trees, though, nor did he count on how tiring the physical exertion would be out in the world compared to the fitness options available to him at home, and the freak downpour only made things worse. He loses his footing, slides down his ravine, hits his head, and the world goes black and still.


Victor scents *omega.*

He also scents betas and alphas, far more and more recent than usually come by his home, and he can’t pretend the combo is a coincidence. He’s lived in the forest for three years and the only whiff of omega he’s gotten was on breezes down from the nearest city. Japan isn’t like Russia used to be, weres and humans living together, alphas and betas and omegas mingling freely. Omegas are a treasure here, and for whatever reason nearly all human, and kept close and safe.

Except there’s one in the forest.

Victor shouldn’t get involved…but he can’t help it. The smell is heady, intoxicating, and he makes his way from home, enhanced vision making him perfectly comfortable on the moonless night, footing sure on the slick bed of wet leaves and pine needles. He doesn’t have to go far before he finds his quarry - a human omega, apparently unconscious, lying on the ground at the bottom of a stream-cut ravine. If that were the only creature present even Victor would have been hard pressed to find him, but the human is far from alone. Two groups of wolves face off from the sides of ravine, alternately snarling at and scenting each other, and a few other weres, all in human form, watch warily from the sidelines. The air is tense with the threat of imminent violence, and Victor knows, *knows*, he should leave…

…but the human is hurt, and so pretty, and smelled so good…

…and even the best of the Japanese weres is half feral. Not their fault, just an unavoidable result of how completely apart they’re forced to live in Japanese society. The omega is in danger - Victor desperately ignores the whisper that said *his* omega iss in danger - and he can’t just leave.

The two wolf packs fortunately drive each other off, and it takes some doing, and some fighting, and some bargaining, to get the other weres to leave, but in the end, Victor makes the short walk back to his cabin, bearing the onerous weight of a gorgeous man who smells dangerously attractive to Victor.

This…might not have been his best idea ever.


Yuri wakes up in an unfamiliar house to vision of a tall good looking man with silver hair giving him a broad grin, an adorable wave hello, and a cheery “Ohayo!”

Yuri *should* be afraid. He’s surely in the woods, and the man is surely a monster of some kind, but he is so sweet, and polite, and his Japanese is so endearingly bad, and he smells so good, that Yuri struggles to remember that he’s supposed to be on guard. Victors manners are impeccable. He treats Yuri’s wounds, checks in on his comfort, cooks for him over a wood fire, and gives him what privacy can be found in a cabin smaller than Yuri’s room in his family’s home. More surprisingly, Victor doesn’t make any sexual advances - doesn’t even scent Yuri - doesn’t act like he’s got the least inclination to claim Yuri as a mate.

Again, Yuri knows he should be frightened.

But if Victor really wanted that, he had Yuri unconscious and at his mercy for how long? At least overnight, as it was morning when Yuri awoke.

…maybe Victor isn’t dangerous…

…maybe much of what Yuri has been told isn’t true…

But he does learn that some of it is true when, that night, several other forest dwellers come to call, armed and ready to take a desirable omega by force.

Victor fights them off, gets hurt, emerges victorious, and then acts like nothing he did was a big deal, and clearly expects no gratitude or recompense. He hasn’t claimed Yuri as his own mate…

..but Yuri is kind of sort of maybe a little starting to wish he would…

..but that’s clearly absurd, because Victor *is* a forest dweller, and if he was as noble as he appeared wouldn’t he take Yuri home (what, and risk the humans of the town treating him as a culprit instead of a rescuer?) Yuri’s thoughts circled, but he reached no conclusion.


They were together, when all was said and done, for almost a month. That Yuri’s family struggled to find him for so long was shocking - ultimately Yuri learns they got distracted by false claims that he’d been found to the south - and Yuri is unable to leave the cabin sooner due first to his injuries and later to those Victor receives defending him. The only time Yuri is ostensibly alone is during the full moon; Victor explains himself in plain terms as if it’s no big deal - yep, a werewolf, totally ordinary - and leaves before he transforms. Yuri doesn’t seem him in wolf form but he hears him, prowling around the cabin, keeping other predators at bay. (There are others defending the cabin, Victor is far from the *only* good wolf in the forest, but there are still those doing villainy as well.)

When Yuri is recovered, Victor escorts him to the edges of the town and bids him farewell, and if he looks wistful…and if Yuri’s heart feels like it’s breaking…well, this is what has to be.

Several months pass.

Yuri’s family is elated. There’s city-wide celebrations, and the search for a suitable spouse ramps up as soon as they realize that not only is Yuri home and whole and hale, he’s also unviolated. None of the suitors appeal to Yuri. This one smells to strongly, that one too subtly, that one too acidic. His flights of fancy carry him to a snug cabin in the woods and a Russian accent whispering alluring promises in his ear as Victor holds him close and claims him.

But that’s impossible.


Victor’s cabin never seemed empty before Yuri, but with Yuri gone it feels desolate. Everything is coated in the omegas tangy, wintry scent, and in a home so small there is no sight that doesn’t conjure memories of Yuri sitting, chatting, smiling, comfortable and at ease.

Victor wants him back.

All his instincts say *claim, fuck, mate.*

Victor is *not* an animal, and so he keeps his distance. Yuri gave no sign of reciprocating his interest, and Victor can cope with a one-sided scent bond. It’s harder during the full moon, when he changes and his wolf instincts take precedence, but he’s still sentient, still aware, still capable of reason and choice, still knows right from wrong, so as difficult as it is, he stays away.


Yuri goes into heat.

It’s not his first time, by far, and he theoretically knows how to handle it, what sexual behaviors to engage in, what self-care is necessary to ride through the burning need and arousal.

Except nothing that he did before is effective now. Toys don’t help. Cool showers don’t help. Rest and meditation don’t help. He can’t even bring himself to eat, can hardly keep water down. Something is *very* wrong.

It’s his sister who thinks through everything she knows of alphas and omegas, everything she knows of her brothers month-long disappearance and realizes…somewhere out there, there’s an alpha that Yuri has chosen, whether he meant to or not, and without that alpha Yuri will suffer terribly through this heat - even to the point of it being life threatening.


Victor is in his cabin when he scents something that resembles Yuri, though with a tang that is “off.” The scent draws him and he finds Mari, strolling through the woods like she hasn’t a care, reeking of Yuri and *heat* and something in Victor almost breaks because he should be there with his mate knotting him touching him soothing for him caring for him and

Dammit Victor CAN control himself.

They have a long chat.

The conclusion of which is…maybe Victor doesn’t have to control himself.

He goes with Mari, despite both their reservations, and being in the same building as Yuri, able to smell him and even hear him sometimes, is torture, but he won’t proceed without Yuri’s family’s permission. Because…Victor doesn’t just want one heat, he wants forever, and if he acts out of turn, they’ll never allow that.

Nothing Victor says convinced them.

But Yuri…Yuri scents Victor near and *breaks,* begging, pleading, sobbing, able to admit in the desperation of heat what he was never sure of when he wasn’t a hormonal wreck. Victor is *his,* his mate, his alpha, and Yuri needs him as surely as he needs air.

The family relents.

Victor and Yuri have loud, boisterous sex, and Yuri is finally able to sate his hormones enough to eat and drink and rest.

Which is good, cause that night is the full moon (not a coincidence, they eventually learn, Yuri’s cycles have synced to when Victor is a wolf) and while in human form Victor has the self control to be gentle when that’s what Yuri needs, when he’s a wolf, well…

…maybe he’s a bit of an animal after all…

…and fuck if they don’t *both* howl when Yuri presents, and Victor fucks them both senseless and then claims him as a mate…

(I had some other world building thoughts, too, related to the history of wolves, weres and humans interbreeding and how that relates to the commoness of different presentation types but really all this set up is because I want silver wolf Victor to mount desperate, completely on board, in heat omega Yuri and give him everything he needs…)

…they settle in a new, larger cabin on the edge of the forest, just perfect for building a family meant to bridge two worlds long divided. Yeah, they face issues and prejudice on both sides, but they make it work…

Chapter Text

Since he was born, Bucky has been groomed to be the perfect omega by his parents and the Clan of the Hydra. The group controls the equivalent of a small kingdom, and as the child of two prominent members of the Clan, Bucky has a ton of potential as a prize to be bestowed on the arm of an alpha with whom the Clan is currying favor. Because of his combination of genitalia, it was (correctly) assumed that Bucky would present as omega, and they raised him as a female, favoring his vagina over his penis for purposes of gender identification. Their training was…severe at times…especially since the recalcitrant Bucky quietly but steadfastly refused to adhere to certain rules as he grew older.

He knew he was a man.

He wanted to be called my a male name.

He wanted to have some license to make his own decisions.

None of this was permissible. Instead, he was beaten, groomed, rewarded when he behaved, severely punished when he didn’t, and his neck and genitals (vagina and penis) were locked behind steel chastity devices from the day he hit puberty.

When he couldn’t fight back any longer, he surrendered, accepted, and saved his only resistance for the quiet of his own mind, where he still used male pronouns, still thought of himself as Bucky instead of as the the woman they’d have him be. (I’m too tired to come up with a canon appropriate female name, sorry).

When the Clan was satisfied with his progress, they began shopping Bucky around for marriage prospects. Given their methods and reputation, the Clan of the Hydra had many and wide ranging enemies, and also had many groups and families that they wished to insinuate their way into. One such group is the kingdom of America, and not long after Bucky’s 20th birthday a marriage is arranged between him and Lord Steve Rogers, a prominent noble in America. Bucky’s role is on the one hand to be a perfect omega spouse to the Lord, and on the other, to forward Hydra’s interests and help infiltrate and subvert the country.

He has zero interest in either of these things. But he’ll pursue both tasks as best he can, because what choice does he have?

Bucky and his family and his close clan mates (…handlers, really…) arrive at Rogers’ impressive fortress the day before the wedding, decked out in all their finest to impress, and are received with similar formality. According to his preparation, Rogers’ aim with the match is to secure trade concessions, broker peace, and acquire an ally to provide arms and support as he helps America face a military threat from the Nazis far to the west. The Clan actually has good relations with the Nazis but what Rogers doesn’t know won’t hurt him (and even if it does hurt him, it’s not really Bucky’s problem).

The initial reception goes off without a hitch, and Bucky’s party settles in for the night. In all the hubbub he’s scarce able to form an impression of his soon to be home and barely glimpses his husband to be but it hardly matters. He’s as trapped in the fort as he ever was at home. He can’t even leave his chambers until he’s primped, wrapped in finery and bows like a present, and delivered to his wedding.

His first real glimpse of Steve Rogers is a shock. Based on his impressions, and what little he’d taken in the day before, he was expecting an older, virile man, an alpha’s alpha. Turns out, the person he thought was Rogers the day before was actually an advisor. No, Rogers is small, short, pale, blond, completely dwarfed by the pageant surrounding him, swimming in his regal wedding garb. In the Clan such a person would never be raised as alpha no matter what their body configuration suggested. Alphas were supposed to fit an image and any who didn’t…

…yet this was the man Bucky was to wed.

There must be some twist, some hidden cruelty, some likeness of mind between Rogers and the Clan that led to the match being made.

Rogers offers Bucky shy smiles and gentle touches as appropriate during the ceremony. Even when the time comes to remove Bucky’s collar and seal their match with a public mating bite, Rogers moves deliberately but kindly, murmuring reassurance and checking in on Bucky’s comfort levels in terms that leave him confused and speechless.

It doesn’t matter if Rogers is confusing, Bucky reminds himself. Rogers is now his alpha, and Bucky is an omega, and he knows what is expected of him.

It’s late when the marriage feast breaks up. Rogers is making final farewells to guests, and Bucky has a servant show him to their bedroom. He can’t remove his chastity belt but he knows Rogers has the key, so he strips off his gowns, removes his underclothes, positions himself on the large comfortable bed, and presents.

The door opens minutes later.


…nothing. there’s the soft sound of the door closing but otherwise the room is silent as the grave and Bucky gets so nervous he regrets how he positioned himself for he can’t actually see who else is present. It can’t be Rogers, surely - Why would his husband hold back?

“I’m sorry you felt this was necessary,” Rogers says at length, and though the confirmation is reassuring, the words are baffling. Rogers asks him to turn, looks him in the eye, drapes robes about Bucky’s shoulders, and hands him the large key that opens Bucky’s chastity belt.

“Your sexuality is yours to control, not mine to own, and the servants were supposed to show you to quarters of your own, and inform you that we’d speak in the morning. However, if you’re more comfortable here, I can go elsewhere.”



At first Bucky can scarce believe that THIS is his husband. Bewildered, he lets himself be taken to his quarters, the key a solid weight in his hand, and plops onto his bed. Okay, so they’re not consummating. Yet. Okay, this wasn’t what he was expecting. At all. But there must be an angle, a ploy, and he’s ready for anything.

It takes a week before he works up the nerve to take off the chastity belt. Rogers has been polite, kind, but distant, and Bucky is starting to think he’s as uncomfortable with this as Bucky is. But that makes no sense. But after a week, he thinks…well, what’s the worst that happens? He’s never been able to touch himself, never been granted sexual succor during a heat, and though he’s scared the constraints that controlled him his whole life seem to be gone. No Clan member remains of the party that brought him. No member of the Rogers household supervises him. He’s ventured along the castle ramparts, been to the stables, explored as far outside the gates as he dared go (…about 20 feet…) and no one stopped him.

So in the dark of his room he uses the key, unlocks his cock and vagina for the first time, touches him softly even as he weeps for how profoundly good it feels, so fantastic it borders into painful, awful, terrifying, and he comes with his palm around his dick and his vagina leaking slick.

And nearly has a panic attack, anticipating the horrors that await him for his infraction.

Except no consequences come.

Rogers is friendly and helpful. They make small talk. When Rogers realizes Bucky wants to explore, he offers a horse and a guide - a servant or stablehand or Rogers himself, if Bucky wants. Slowly, Bucky starts to think maybe he’s safe, maybe there’s no ulterior motive here, maybe the unalpha-like alpha is exactly as he appears.

Two things stand out, though:

1. Rogers is an important lord yet Bucky never catches glimpse of him working - he’s being deliberately kept at arms length from anything important.

2. Hydra sent Bucky with specific goals, that he so far has had zero means of achieving. Why did Rogers accept this match, given his attitude?

Needless to say, there’s plot about Hydra and the Nazis and Steve’s role in his kingdom. There’s Bucky going into heat and begging Steve to fuck him, only to be turned down - but the next morning he’s given a slew of sex toys and oh man does he have fun exploring those and learning about his body.

There’s slow burn and deep heart to heart where Steve learns how Bucky perceives himself and is enthusiastically on board.

There’s Bucky, over the course of months, slowly shaking of Hydra’s influence, slowly coming to respect, accept, even care for his husband.

(There’s Steve, head over heels for Bucky, locking himself in his room and masturbating and longing for the omega but determined not to push and extremely concerned about Bucky’s mental state, given what he knows of Hydra…because Steve’s purpose is to make a double agent and learn everything he can about the Clan so he can ultimately overthrow it, and his apparent naivete is a cover to keep Hydra from realizing - to convince Hydra that Steve is a dupe).

There’s the inevitable moment when one of them cracks and they kiss frantically, desperately, and Bucky so, so wants to believe that Steve is exactly how he appears.

There’s the first time they have sex, not during a heat, when Bucky realizes that somehow thanks to his sex toys and his finally having sexual freedom over his body, he’s the relatively experienced one of the them, and Steve is a virgin with a penis totally out of proportion to his small body and a knot that makes Bucky salivate with desire who has never used anything but his hand…

…they have a lot of sex…

And there’s the moment when Bucky finally believes, completely, in Steve and everything Steve has shown him - the moment when Steve whispers that he wants to feel Bucky inside him, calls Bucky a man, calls him Bucky, begs for Bucky’s cock and comes all over the bedding as Bucky fucks him and massages his knot.

…they’ve got a lot to work through, and you’d better believe there’ll be a mess of hurt/comfort and plot in there (first kiss is prompted by Steve nearly dying of an asthma attack when they’re out riding and get caught in a storm…I’ve been awake for fricken hours can you tell?)

…but of course it all works out happy in the end…

Chapter Text

The thing about vibrators is there are just so many fricken *choices.* Steve has been single for a damn long time, and for a long time he made do with the same toy he’d had for the past umpteen years, and he was content. 

And then it broke. 

Aand so he went to a local shop called Carnations and Carnal Delights- combo flower shop, chocolatier, and sex shop, for all your date night needs - and goes to buy a replacement. 

Well, the model he has is out of production. And the options available are dizzying. And the man who works there is dangerously hot, dark hair pulled back in a tiny point tail and a smile like the sun coming out. And Steve just got a raise. So he lets himself get talked into a fancy model. 

But it’s not quite right. 

So he goes back. And talks to the hot guy again. And picks out another vibrator. And gives it a trial run. And still isn’t satisfied. 

Somehow, this becomes his new weekly ritual. He skips past the flower shop and chocolates and goes straight to the toys. He flirts with sex shop guy - Bucky is the only name he gives - and sometimes thinks Bucky flirts back, but he always withdraws before they get too personal. Steve doesn’t want to be that creepy guy who hits on the porn store employee while they’re trapped at work. But he keeps coming back. And maybe he thinks about Bucky pretty damn often while using the toys he’s bought. 

Okay yeah that’s creepy.

Especially since several of the toys he’s bought have been perfectly adequate and yet he keeps going back. 

Finally, after months of this, Bucky greets him with his usual cocky, confident grin and apologizes - Steve has bought him out. Nothing else new to try. Even the stuff thay Bucky found online and stocked specifically with Steve in mind. 

“That’s one hard to please lady you’ve got at home!” Bucky jokes. 

Bucky. Thought. The. Vibrators. Were. For. A. Girlfriend. 

“No they’re all mine.” Steve is strangely breathless but instead of an excited reaction, Bucky just blinks at him and silently crosses the room to the door. 

“What’re you…”

Bucky locks the door closed and flips the sign to closed. 


“I think it’s time I introduce you to our selection of vibrating cock rings…”

… It’s a *really* good night, and Bucky is *really* well versed on the features of his impressively selection of toys.

Chapter Text

When Dean auditioned for a role in the school’s upcoming production of Romeo and Juliet, he didn’t realize they were actually doing R&J, a version of the story that sticks to the script but is set in an all boys school and is incredibly subversive (and all male) (please tell me I’m not the only one here who has seen R&J it’s so good). No, Dean doesn’t find out any of that…until he’s cast as Juliet.

The Romeo playing opposite him is kinda a prick? Like, Castiel is aloof and kinda snobby and doesn’t want to hang with the other theater folks and unfairly hot and no Dean didn’t think that cause Dean is totally straight thank you very much.

He should never have let Charlie talk him into this.

Meanwhile Cas is struggling. He loves the theater and came to the school to have a chance to act, while continuing to pretend to stick to his parent’s plan for him, but the play hits way too close to home. He *was* that boy, odd duck out at an all boys boarding school, the token gay guy all the straight boys went to when they wanted to get their rocks off. He turned them all down…and still ended up with the reputation of being a slut, since all those assholes lied about him. The folks here are nice and clearly aren’t judgmental in the same way but every rehearsal is still a trial for Cas (who may suffer from just a weeeeee smidge of PTSD).

And Juliet, with his short waxed hair and full pouty lips and gorgeous green eyes? Definitely not helping.

Or - a tropefest with thinks-hes-straight Dean, knows-hes-not Cas, a lot of miscommunication and mishaps, culminating in an on stage declaration of love that Dean can’t possibly turn down…

Chapter Text

Oh man so many possibilities. But sleepy brain is fixating on one of my favorite musicals, The Scarlet Pimpernel, which has a song titled Into the Fire that I love and so I’m only thinking of historical aus.

Victor is a ships captain. How a Russian ended up captain of a Portuguese freighter with access to the special port in Nagasaki is convoluted, but there he was, doing the trade run that only the Portuguese has permission to do. It wasn’t a bad job, really, and he had some awesome stories of exotic Japan. Everything is going great… until it’s not. Victor isn’t even sure what went wrong, just that someone in his crew broke one of the many rules they were supposed to abide by, and as a result the whole crew was arrested and the ship impounded. Their executions are scheduled. Rescue seems impossible. He knows no one locally - unavoidable because of the fraternization rules - and even if Portugal would send help - very unlikely, they didn’t want to jeopardize the special relationship - that help would never arrive in time.

The last thing he expects is a dashing young Japanese man breaking into his cell.

The man speaks a broken mixture of Japanese, Chinese, Portuguese and Dutch, and they can barely communicate, but he says his name is Katsuki and he’s there because he needs a new crew.

Katsuki is a pirate. His last crew was lost at sea. And he figures…fugitive European sailors have nothing to lose, right? But if they really don’t want to be pirates they can always stay and be executed.

No one chooses to stay.

But Katsuki can’t communicate with the crew. He needs Victors help. Going back to Portugal is impossible (not that many of them want to, the crew is a hodge podge of people from all over the world) and Victor miiiight have a little smidge of piracy in his background. At first things are great, preying on shipping in the China sea and among the Indies.

Then the Portuguese find out. And the shogun is demanding their return. And its time to go. It’s Katsuki’s ship, and he’s actually a pretty good boss, and despite his reservations… they head west together, round Africa, and head toward the active shipping lanes of the Atlantic.

… and… I’m not quite sure where else this would go but it’d be slow burn and plot heavy and end in Viktuuri, and if course the crew is all the other skaters and I love the premise.

Chapter Text

Peggy is a hard working executive in a very high profile job. She works very, very hard and has no time for a social life, much less a significant other, and so she has a single indulgence. When she has to go to gala events, openings, corporate parties, she hires a high end escort. Steve - or whatever his real name is - is slim, almost feminine, elegant, refined, and gorgeous in a tuxedo. He makes a perfect arm trophy for a woman in her position, also competent, but never going to upstage her. She genuinely enjoyed his company, both during the parties and after. Considering he was a professional escort and sex want actually normally part of the deal, the fact that they regularly ended up having sex anyway suggested that Steve enjoyed their time together, too.


Recently Steve hasn’t been available as often. Peggy always books well in advance to be sure, but sometimes even with that precaution, he’s booked. It’s disappointing - more so than she oughta be, if she’s honest with herself - but she can manage. She’s an adult. She can go alone, or hire a different escort.

She’s totally fine with everything.

Until James Buchanan Barnes, CEO of one of her company’s chief competitors, arrives at a shindig with Steve on his arm.

Hijinks ensue.

The last thing Peggy expects is for Barnes to be…actually pretty nice…

…and for Steve to be quite fond of both of them…

…and Steve *is* his real name…

…and Peggy sure has a lot of long days, and with the two of them in her orbit, she suspects she’s going to have a whole lot of long nights, too…

…and she doesn’t mind one bit…

Chapter Text

Cas just needs a new start. He gave his heart and soul to his old job at a corporation, worked his tail off, and when all was said and done they shoved him under the bus, made him the fall guy for a scandal that he’d tried to prevent and certainly didn’t cause. He has his suspicions that they choose him bevause he was an uppity omega (they’re words not his) but he can’t prove it and he doesn’t want the bother of a lawsuit anyway.

So, new city. Lawrence, Kansas. New job, as an adjunct professor of business and ethics at the university (take that, Sandover). New apartment, the cheapest studio he could find. He stood neatly everything he owned to make the move, and he makes pennies as am adjunct, and he’s used to not having money problems but it’s oddly liberating to have so little money that he has very few choices. Not like, fantastic, there are certainly downsides to being poor, but he makes enough to get by.

Being a teacher is… different. His classes are small, and since it’s business school most of the students are young go-getter types, alphas and betas. There’s only one omega in the class, identifiable only by scent cause he sure doesn’t look the part. Dean is also the oldest student and he never, ever talks. Cas thinks it’s weird until his dean gets him the class notes “only” a month late. Dean is mute.

But his papers are brilliant, and his scent is…surprisingly heady. Cas has mostly avoided relationships, most alphas are jerks to omegas like him, and he finds something very appealing about the omega that looks like an alpha and smells like heaven.

But Cas keeps things professional.

Until Dean is out of his class - with an A. Then he asks Dean out…and is turned down flat. And its not a compatibility thing - Deans scent betrays him, he’s definitely interested, and yet…

It takes a long time for Cas to learn enough of Deans history to figure out the issues, a lifetime of bullying, a tough family, a transition from alpha to omega. Some he learns from Dean, some from Deans friend Charlie, and some from the assholes who think they’re doing Cas a favor by warning him about the deviant omega.

It’s oh-so-sweet when Castiel first sinks into Dean’s body and gives the silent, neglected omega everything he’s ever wanted…

Chapter Text

When Dean, at 17, finally accepts that he’s queer as fuck, he runs away from home. There’s no way his dad will accept his orientation, and Dean can’t hide any longer. Leaving his brother is a wrench but he has a candid conversation with Sam first, and Sam is so certain that Dean is right to go that he helps Dean pack, and they also concoct a plan to keep in touch. The last morning before Dean goes, Sam gives him a list of ministries that will offer sanctuary to queer youth in search of a place of safety.

That’s how Dean ends up in Kansas City at an unremarkable looking Methodist church with the hottest priest he’s ever seen. Father James is…well, if Dean had any more doubts about digging dudes, the fact that his preferred spank bank material is now Jimmy Novak smirking puts that to rest. The priest is young for his position, maybe mid or late 20s, and is more than happy to spend ample time with Dean, helping him find a direction for his aimless life. High school was pretty much a wash for Dean, he was too wrapped up in helping his family and his crisis of sexuality. Jimmy gets him started in a GED program run out of a local non profit, and starts nudging him toward vocational education options, classes at BOCES, that kind of thing.

It’s not until Dean goes to the GED program that he learns that Jimmy has a twin. It’s ironic that Jimmy is the religious one while is brother named fricken Castiel seems to be more of an irreverent stoner with a heart of gold, but despite their different personalities - or maybe because of them - Dean falls even harder for Cas than he did for Jimmy.

Bonus: Cas is actually accessible, no pesky vows to get in the way.

It takes a fair amount of convincing (and the passing of Deans 18th birthday) to get Cas to act on all his flirtatious hints.

It takes even more convincing, and a lot of soul searching conversations, before Dean gets Jimmy to join them.

But they get there eventually.

Chapter Text

So Dean and Cas have been going steady for a while and they have a pretty good relationship. Dean in particular is pretty sexual - though he balks at being called a needy bottom - and Cas really enjoys satisfying him.

Except there’s a problem.

Cas is leaving on a business trip.

For a month.

Dean is usually at LEAST a once a day lay, and the thought of going a month solo is…wretched. and he’s got some toys but none is quite right. Cas offers to get a cast made of his own dick, so Dean can use thay, but they can’t find an option that includes the features Dean would want (it’s gotta vibrate, dammit) and when the go to the internet for something better Dean is overwhelmed by the options. How is he supposed to know if he wants six inches or seven? More girth or more length?

And that’s when Cas comes home with an enormous array of pickles.

This is it, Dean thinks. Cas has lost his mind.

And that’s how they end up spending an entire weekend extremely scientifically figuring out the exact length and girth that Dean wants in a dildo. Pickles cost way less then sex toys, and yeah, the vinegar is a bit of a problem, but Dean actually comes to kinda like the tingle and he doesn’t want to think about that too much.

After all that experimentation, the second pickle turns out to be the ideal.

Dean makes sure they pick up some special lube to mimic the tingle, too.

And starts to get curious about figging.

And he and Cas spend a LOT of quality time together over Skype.

When Cas has to leave on another long business trip a few months later, Dean is ashamed to admit…hes kinda looking forward to it. And he’d never have found the perfect toy if not for the second of several pickles…

Chapter Text

So their anniversary is coming up and Thor comes home to a bedroom full of gifts, everything from flowers to weapons to new armor to one of those weird mortal cut fruit bouquet things. But there’s no Loki.

Or is there?

Thor has seen Loki’ s illusions too many times to be taken in. One of the things in three room had got to be Loki. the only question is which.

Some are just too obvious. Loki wouldn’t pretend to be a dagger. And dismissing the edible bouquet is as easy as popping a strawberry in his mouth. Tasty. There’s a card with the flowers, but that’s not worth it - either it’s Loki, it’s a taunt, or it’s a hint, and regardless where’s the fun in that?

While he’s considering the debatable merits of a digital camera he spots a non descript box. More curious than cautious, he takes it up.

Within is a dildo.

Thor grins.

Either the toy is Loki, or Loki is in the room, and either way… well, Loki usually bottoms and if Thor takes a turn, Loki should enjoy the show.

Loki truly wasn’t expecting Thor to figure things out so fast. He had a whole plan, for an illusion doppelganger to come, take up the toy, and go from there. Thor splayed on the bed using the toy - using Loki! - does end up kinda ruining the surprise but it’s hard for Loki to care given how good Thor feels and the lovely sounds the lightning god makes, the crackles of electricity that course over his body as he shudders and groans when Loki takes over the thrusting.

Which all is to say, I’d write a story about sentient sex toy transformed dildo Loki fucking Thor.

Chapter Text

It’s all in good fun. They’re all years out of college, years from their last time at a college party, and the “getting totally smashed” part has lost a lot of the appeal but the “Never Have I Ever” style games? Still surprisingly fun, even if their shots are wine coolers now instead of tequila (and Steve is not willing to take his life in his hands and ask Nat why she keeps wine coolers in the house). 

Sam proposes the game: instead of “truth or dare” or “never have I ever” or spin the bottle, why not play “tag question?” One person is “it.” They ask the questions. They get to pick one person in the circle and ask one question and the selected person has to answer honestly or drink a shot. The twist is, if the question goes unanswered, the person who is “it” also has to drink a shot, and then come up with another question for another person. So if the “it” person deliberately asks too many difficult/intrusive questions, they’re going to get increasingly smashed, while everyone else won’t drink as much. The key to the game is striking the balance - finding questions that are juuuuuust intrusive enough to slip by, without crossing that line.

If the question is answered honestly, the person who answered becomes “it.”

If the question is answered dishonestly, and anyone catches them, the person who lied chugs the bottle.

All in good fun, right?

And so they go around the group - Sam, Natasha, Steve, Bucky, Tony, Clint, Bruce, Wanda, everyone, even Thor, which hardly seems fair given he’s a god and can drink whatever he wants in whatever quantity he wants, and even Vision, who doesn’t bother to drink at all, but also hasn’t had an interesting enough life to have much to contribute to the weirder questions - he mostly seems to be observing.

“Bucky - have you ever made a love confession?” demands Natasha.

“No,” Bucky admits - honestly, as far as Steve knows, and no one else contests it. Natasha nods and passes the baton they’re using to indicate who’s it. Bucky looks pensively around the group, and to Steve’s surprise settles on him. Why should Bucky ask him anything? It’s not like they keep secrets from each other.

“Steve, will you marry me?” asks Bucky.

Stunned, unable to answer, Steve chugs his wine cooler. Bucky, unanswered, chugs his as well.

“Steve, will you marry me?” Bucky asks again.

“You have to ask someone different…” Sam offers the rules correction only to roll his eyes and shrug indifference when Bucky stares him down with that Winter Soldier death stare (that Steve finds way too hot for words). No one else objects about the casual demolition of one of the main rules.

Steve chugs another shot. Bucky, meeting challenge for challenge, takes another shot himself.

“Steve, will you marry me?”

…years later, they’ll argue that by the time Steve concedes it’s because he’s so drunk he can’t see straight but everyone knows that them ribbing each other is bullshit. The idiots were head over heels and Steve was being a stubborn idiot so really, what choice did Bucky have? And they’re so obviously over the moon together that, really, Steve should be thanking Bucky for finally forcing Steve to acknowledge what everyone in all of damn NYC knew by that point…

Chapter Text


Being the chief pilot for Russia was surprisingly boring, monotonous work. Maybe, once upon a time when the colonies were at odds, it would have been interesting, but now the duties were ceremonial - exhibitions, galas, openings, political functions, dull dull dull. Today promised to be no different, and even a BJ from Christophe, pilot from Switzerland with whom Victor had long shared a friends-with-benefits arrangement, couldn't stir any enthusiasm on Victor.

Today's event was much like any other. Politicians and wealthy elites from the outer colonies met with members of the European Alliance and Russia, with a few token Americans present too, and everyone wanted to show off their Mecha and maybe gain a little intimidating factor with their newest flashy tech, so mock battles had been staged. Victor practiced his yesterday, against a pilot named Kasuki or something, from Japan. The name was vaguely familiar, but they'd never met or fought before - Russia considered the outer colonies beneath their notice, racism and elitism making them snooty, so outer colony pilots were rarely given even token chances to complete against the inner colony elite.

Victor had expected Kasuki (Kesuki? Kiski?) to be laughably bad. Instead he'd been pleasantly surprised - the Japanese pilot had his choreography down, and nailed it. Impressive, given it was a pretty hard routine (Victor suspected Yakov of deliberately making it a damn hard exhibition with the aim of embarrassing the Japanese with a show if ineptitude by their star, compared with Victor's, um, flawless eptitude.)

Victor wasn't arrogant.

He was that good.

And at least his partner would be adequate.
When it was finally their turn to engage in mock combat, Victor made his usual show of mounting his Mecha, waving to the crowd, and getting into the cockpit. He turned to watch his opponent - Katsuki Yuri, the announcer said, at least that settled that question - only to find that Katsuki had skipped the showmanship and was ready to go.

The fight started familiarly, each blow smooth as a dance in the large valley cleared for the purpose, ships circling overhead to afford the spectators ideal views. The first time Katsuki deviated from script Victor thought it an accident. The second time, he got annoyed. Not until the third time, when a roundhouse kick took out a piece of largely decorative armor plating on Victor's leg, did he realize...Katsuki was changing his attacks on purpose. And in a battle meant to end, planned to end, with Katsuki prone on the ground with Victor's blade at his throat in symbolic defeat and deference to the mightiest of the inner colonies...

...Katsuki was fighting to *win.*

Katsuki might have done it, too, if he'd displayed any of the competence that had been so impressive when they'd practiced in private. Instead, Katsuki was sloppy, precipitous, telegraphing his blows, once tripping over his own feet, another time stumbling in a ravine that he missed because he was too focused on Victor and ignored their environment. The match ended precisely as it was meant to, and a good thing too - every match was planned by the respective governments, signed on by diplomats and prime ministers and emperors and presidents depending on local government, and sanctioned by the Intercolonial Senate. Deviating as Katsuki had tried to could have caused a major interstellar incident. Surely Katsuki knew that as well as Victor did.
Judging by the stony expression on Katsuki's face as they exchanged a sportsmanlike handshake afterward, he knew exactly what he'd done.

Victor was mildly curious why.

But not curious enough to look into it. What did it matter what one weird pilot from one backwater colony did? Victor had better things to occupy his time.

Such as...

Well, he'd come up with something eventually.

Anyone paying attention knew inter-colony relations were fraying. Even Victor, who paid as little attention to anything important as he could get away with, had a sense that tensions were running high, that small issues that once could be ignored now caused major incidents, that good will had been depleted to such an extent that every mistake or miscalculation was now seen as a deliberate piece of a larger conspiracy to bring the prevailing peaceful interstellar alliance crashing down.

All nonsense, of course. There was no plot. There was no great evil empire. There were just colonies that were better run, and those that were worse run, and the bitterness of those who were falling behind in wealth and consequence and influence manufactured the perceived slights.

Russia was a winner.

In truth, nearly all the inner colonies were doing excellently.

The outer colonies, well...

Maybe they should have thought about that before declaring independence and moving their populations to the asteroids and planetoids of the Kuiper Belt. Aside from China, which had colonized every inch of Pluto, and India, which had done the same on Charon, all the outer colonies shared the problem of too large a population on too small a land mass, straining resources and food, making for antsy, unhappy societies just itching for an outside enemy to distract from the inequalities at home.

As it turned out, though, Victor's belief that they were too puny to actually act and too pathetic to fight effectively even if they did proved unfounded.
The rebellion started in a way that Victor, of all people, should have seen coming. Phichit Chulanont, a pilot from the small colony of Thailand, did what Katsuki had not been able to do - ignoring the planned choreography, Chulanont, astonishingly, defeated Leo de Iglesia of America  when the two battled at a Congressional retreat. Not to be outdone, Seung-Gil Lee of Korea fought Georgi Popovich, Victor's squadmate, to a stand still, and Otabek Altin of one of the Russian satellites (Victor refused to think of them as independent colonies, yes he knew that made him a bit of an ass) defeated the Canadian juggernaut Jean Jacques Leroy.

No one saw it coming.

Maybe, if Victor had spoken out about what happened with Katsuki, the shock of the inner colonies would have been less complete. But maybe not. One Japanese pilot breaking script is weird but not unprecedent. Three outer colony pilots rising up on the same day, though? Clearly reflected planning, forethought, an intentional effort to overthrow the existing order.

If there'd been any doubt of that, the declarations read by the outer colony representatives at the Congress made it abundantly clear that war was upon them.

What a joke. Everyone in the inner colonies, everyone in Russia, agreed that the conflict would be over in a week.

So Victor suited up and headed out to do his part. He was paired up with Yuri Plisetsky, a young pilot who'd just passed his certification to advance beyond training and who was aggressive, argumentative, and spoiling for a fight. Victor expected they'd all meet up in space, have a big brawl, the outer colonies would lose handily, and then they could all go home.

The first casualties were a wake up call. The first acts of mass destruction, the first loss of friends, drove home that war wasn't a game. Victor wanted to hate the outer colonial assholes who'd brought this conflict on them but couldn't quite bring himself to do so, because despite Yakov's exhortations that they focus on their duty, Victor started to listen and watch what was really going on. Journalists had access to combatants on both sides, and the interviews aired and were broadcast over the internet despite the efforts of the Russian government to squelch enemy propaganda.

The more Victor saw, the less sure he was that he was looking at propaganda.

The problems the outer colonies described actually sounded legit, and the footage he saw of the conditions in which they lived were heartbreaking, and their argument that they'd been forced onto the tiny Kuiper Belt asteroids didn't jibe with what Victor had been taught but did seem the facts very well. There *were* scads of uninhabited moons in the inner belt, used for mining and resource development...that terrain could well have been denied the outer colonies. The whole thing did ring suspicious.

But what could Victor do about it? He'd always just been ceremonial, a showman with no actual power or authority, and now he was just a soldier. Yes, a soldier with an enormous Mecha suit, but still just a soldier.

And what if the propaganda was just that? What if none of it was true?

Victor had to know.

He couldn't say why, of all the acquaintances he had in the outer colonies, he used back channels to reach out to Katsuki of all people. Oh, he had a list of reasons - they were both soldiers, he knew Katsuki was a fine pilot even if he'd failed to beat Victor at the exhibition (Victor was the best in the solar system, after all, of course Katsuki hadn't beaten him...), and there'd been that look on Katsuki's face, the firmness of his grip...

He was surprised when Katsuki responded.

The two struck up an odd and highly treasonous correspondence, exchanging written and video letters and occasional FaceTime conversations, discussing the social-economic-political roots of the rebellion. Victor's ambivalence grew. Katsuki was impossible to doubt - a terrible liar - utterly believable and clearly justified in his involvement in the conflict given the circumstances of his life. Educated on the inner colonies by famous coach Celestino, he'd seen first hand the contrast between the haves and the have-nots as his family struggled to keep their business afloat amid a poverty stricken society with scant food and minimal hope of advancement. Even in the privileged position of a pilot Katsuki had little enough for himself and none to share, and the role the inner colonies played in that repression was undeniable. Victor grew increasingly discontent, but saw no way to change anything, or even to step away from his own role.

He was as trapped by his life as *Yuri* had been in his. But Yuri fought, kept fighting, while Victor...

...something had to change.

But Victor couldn't decide what.

And while he waffled, war raged on.

Victor should have seen the confrontation coming, and that he didn't despite all the evidence meant he was all the more blindsided. He and Yuri P were sent to Callisto to stop an attack on the resources there and were confronted by Phichit and Yuri.

Victor couldn't fight Yuri, and didn't want to fight Phichit, who had been an outspoken, eloquent voice in the illicit broadcasts that reached the inner colonies and that Victor increasingly sought out. Unable to bring himself to take the offense, he focused on the defense and ignored Yuri P's increasingly vociferous cursing as he wondered why the fuck Victor wasn't fighting harder and pushing their advantages.

Phichit focused on trying to break past Victor.
Yuri P confronted Yuri.

Their fight was utterly distracting. Yuri P was a vicious combatant, strong, determined, fearless, merciless. That he overmatched Yuri badly was evident within moments, though Yuri kept fighting, kept fighting, tireless and determined. Victor was enthralled, distracted from his own fight so badly that Phichit got past his guard.

When Yuri P finally got past Yuri's guard, fear choked at Victor. Yuri's Mecha went down, and all the rage that Yuri P had gained when his grandfather died in an outer colony raid came to the surface - he didn't just defeat Yuri, he sought to annihilate him, smashing Yuri's Mecha to smithereens, ripping Yuri from the cockpit, crushing his body - so tiny and frail compared to the might of the robots - and throwing him aside like so much garbage.

Sickened, horrified, furious with himself for not acting sooner when lives were on the line, Victor scarce thought before launching into action. He caught Yuri's body before he could strike the frozen, thankless planet's surface, discovered Yuri somehow yet lived, brought him into the sanctuary of Victor's cockpit where there was warmth and breathable air, and abandoned his post to find medical treatment for the gravely wounded Japanese pilot.

And that's how Victor Nikiforov, greatest pilot of his generation, came to join the Rebellion.

And to realize that, through their long distance correspondence, he'd fallen in love with Katsuki Yuri.

There's more to the story of course - Yuri's long, slow recovery; Victor's difficult decision to share his strategic knowledge with the rebels; his and Yuri's ridiculously slow courtship, with Phichit in the background rolling his eyes cause "omfg you morons just kiss already;" the quest to build Yuri a new Mecha in the war-depleted asteroids (they eventually steal him one...); and battles, so many battles, against Victor's former friends and allies. Some come around - Christophe defects within days of Victor doing so - and some don't - JJ Leroy is determined - and it's a long, protracted war...but in the end, there's peace, and some measure of happiness for the survivors. (Yuri P, to everyone's amazement given his fury and desire for revenge, ends up also turning...for Otabek Altin??)

Chapter Text


Alpha Jack has two types he’s attracted to. In the hypothetical - ie, watching movies and fantasizing without scent to guide him - he likes small, slight male omegas - he’d say they’re twinks but it’s not like they’re much younger than him, he’s only a teen when the attraction starts. But in actuality, not that he can say it aloud, he has to acknowledge…he likes alphas. He likes someone who can push him around, put him in his place, “force him” to take what he wants but doesn’t actually have the nerve to ask for. All consensual, of course, but he gets off on feeling like he can’t stop another alpha from dominating him, he likes the shame and the contest for control and the eventual moaning surrender.

Or at least, he’s pretty damn sure he’ll like that with men other than Kent. With Kent it’s pretty damn excellent…until it’s not…

Jack’s teen years are rough. Puberty brings no physical surprises but the emotional ones do take some getting used to. What he has with Kent is confusing and arousing and tempting and dangerous. Hockey is full of the kind of men Jack is embarrassed to want, and in an effort to “correct” his attraction, he turns to watching another type of ice sport - figure skating. He appreciates the grace and athleticism of the skaters, and men’s figure skating, and occasionally pairs, are full of the kind of omega boys that Jack likes. He definitely has his favorites, just as he has his favorite pros he wish would pin him, and he watches their careers and engages in online fandom, unable to bring himself to admit his less-than-manly interest in the sport (because even though they are presumed to all be omegas, and therefore theoretically appropriate for an alpha male to be attracted to, there was still a stigma against manly men watching figure skating and the fandom was perceived as being the purview of women, alpha, beta and omega.)

Which is why, when Eric Bittle arrives at Samwell during Jack’s junior year, he recognizes the former figure skater instantly. What he does expect are the twin shocks that Bittle is going to be playing hockey…

…and that Bittle is an *alpha*.

Oh man does that open fantasies that Jack never imagined, the perfect combo of the slight physical type he liked on screen with the domination he loves with another alpha. How much more would Jack’s particular kinks get hit if the alpha pushing him around and making him submit is smaller and slighter than him?

Jack is interested. Jack is so interested.

But the attraction doesn’t last as he gets to know the former figure skater. Bittle might smell like an alpha but he acts as he appears, like an omega, submissive, passive, and even cowardly. As Jack helps Bittle with his ridiculous fear of being checked he almost feels betrayed. *This* scared *boy* was a turn on to Jack? He knows it’s unfair but he’s angry, he’s bitter, he’s ashamed that he’s still maybe just a little into the idea of Bittle pinning him and making him-

No. He doesn’t want that.

And so the time passes. At least Bittle works really damn hard, striving to improve as a player. The habits Jack once found unseemly in the supposed alpha grow on him, become endearing, though he couldn’t have said when the transition happened or even, in coherent terms, *that* the transition happened.

Until the Epikegster.

Until Kent storms back into Jack’s life, pretending with aggressive words that he has a right to treat Jack as his… well, Kent always got off on calling Jack his bitch, and even now after all these years Kent’s acting like he’s entitled to behave like Jack is his. And, flustered, alarmed, anxious, attacked, Jack is doing a shit job of refuting Kent’s claim…

…until Bittle, passive, cheerful, kind Bittle, storms into Jack’s room like hell on wheels and, with harsh astute words and shocking presence puts Kent in his place without half trying.

It’s *amazing.*

It’s *really fricken hot.*

And there, *there* is the alpha-esque behavior that Jack craved from Bittle. except the next day the diffident Bittle is back, sheepishly apologizing for butting in and eaves dropping. Jack is blind sided and confused. Did he imagine the whole confrontation?

It took reflection after the fact for Jack to figure out what had happened, along with careful observation of Bittle in well manner of situations, especially on the ice. When his own control, his own alphahood was in question? Bittle couldn’t muster the least interest in posturing to assert himself. But when his friends were challenged? Bittle could out-alpha even Bad Bob himself.

That’s about when Jack realizes he is totally enthralled by Bittle, and totally screwed.

It takes them a long time to work through their mutual attraction, a long time for Jack to admit his feelings, act on them, and ask for what he wants. But when he finally does…

Well, Bittle is more than happy to assert himself to put Jack in his place, when he knows that’s what Jack wants, and damn is Bits stronger, tougher, more in control, and better hung than Jack ever dared fantasize…

Chapter Text


When up-and-coming celebrity chef Christophe Guacometti turns down the opportunity to be a regular judge on the show New Chef Select, he recommends his friend, fellow chef Victor Nikiforov, for the role. Yakov Feltsman, head judge, is reluctant to cast Victor - they have a history - but all of Yakov's objections only make Victor more appealing to the producers, who hear all Yakov has to say while dreaming of the drama potential. Drama equals ratings, and just that easy, Victor has the part. It's a pretty easy gig, just show up once a week to all of the events that the chef contestants make food for, try everything, and give his agonizingly honest opinion of the food they make. One chef will be eliminated each week, and the last two standing will go head to head. The twist, all the chefs in the show are young - the oldest selected is barely 24, the youngest just turned 18 - and none have their own restaurants, any awards, or much, if any, name recognition. The idea is to take fresh young talent and make them a hit of epic proportions (while shaming those who fail and, by using such youngsters, hopefully getting some immature dipshits to make asses of themselves on national television).

While one challenge is too little to establish a pattern, Victor comes out of the first tasting with a few distinct favorites. The youngest contestant, Yuri Plisetsky, is a clear favorite. His dish is absolutely delicious and so perfectly correct in every aspect of technical proficiency that Victor can hardly believe that Yuri is only 18. The Japanese Katsuki Yuri also does excellently, producing a perfect soup stock despite limited time. They, more than any of the others, stand out to Victor, and early on he predicts that they'll be the final two contestants standing.

By the middle of the season Victor's prediction is looking doomed. Yuri P continues to shine, with his only bad performance on a group challenge where another contestant screwed up the dish (and gets eliminated for her trouble). Katsuki, on the other hand, starts out spectacular and continues as such until there are only a half dozen contestants left, then suddenly Katsuki crashes. He's in the bottom once - twice - a third time, only scraping by because other contestants keep screwing up even worse. The third time is the most abysmal yet, and Victor truly cannot believe that the same young man who made the delicious dishes early in the contest could so completely over-salt a basic steak-and-potatoes dish.

"You're better than this," Victor snaps at Katsuki at judges table. "You're getting one more shot - if you keep choking, you'll never make it in this industry. Put your heart on a plate - show us the chef we saw in the early challenges, the chef I told Yakov I'd be proud to hire for my own restaurants."


To say that Yuri is shocked that Victor claims to be willing to hire him is an understatement. Yuri is *floored.* He's no one. Yeah, everyone on the show is theoretically no one but in practice? Plisetsky is a well-known prodigy. JJ placed second in a nation-wide competition in Canada. Mila's dessert show pieces have been featured at several celebrity weddings. The competition is full of young chefs on the cusp of stardom.

And then there's Yuri.

Yuri is no one. He's been cooking his whole life, yeah, but only because his family owns an udon stand in Hasetsu and he's worked there since he was big enough to reach the counters. Japanese food is his specialty and while he's picked up a smattering of skills in other cuisine, it's not like he's had all the opportunity in the world. When Victor rebukes him for his steak and potatoes, he nearly breaks down crying right there at the judges panel. Does Victor have any damn idea how hard it is to get a high quality cut of steak in Japan? When the hell does he think Yuri had the time and money to practice skills like that? But he restrains his tears, reserves them for the only camera-free location he knows of - the bathroom in the apartment the contestants share - and tries not to think about how shamelessly overmatched he is. It doesn't matter. He's going home next challenge, that's just inevitable.

So he's extra surprised when Victor finds him in the hall before the next challenge - sans cameras, somehow. Victor has always been one of the chefs Yuri looks up to; he even flew out for the contest a few days early so he could eat at one of Victor's restaurants - but this is the first time they've had a private conversation.

"I meant what I said," Victor says firmly. "Whatever happens today, I would hire you in a heartbeat, if you're interested."

...yeaaaah there's no way that's true...

"And not just cause you're hot and adorable when you get all flustered," Victor adds with a wink.

...but it's still somehow reassuring.

And Victor thinks he's attractive? Gorgeous, charismatic Victor Nikiforov, voted most eligible celebrity chef by the readers of Food and Wine, thinks Yuri is adorable?

Well, at least Yuri has something to think about other than how dismally he's going to cook. Of course, Victor will flirt with anyone so it doesn't mean anything - he's flirted with every single person at judges table, and with random guest judges and tasters at many of the challenges, so often that even Yuri observed it. But what if it did mean something? What if...?

Oh right. Challenges.

The challenge ends up being right in Yuri's wheel house - the remaining four have to make a twist on classic Italian food, and they have extra time because they are expected to make pasta. Yuri does know how to make Italian style pasta but he's been making udon and soba noodles from scratch for 15 damn years...doing it in the time allotted will be nigh impossible, but if he pulls it off...

.. he pulls it off.

"THERE'S my Yuri," Victor crows at judges table.

Yuri has never blushed so much in his entire damn life. God, he hopes that when they do the TV cut of the footage they don't show *that.*


Victor ought to open a damn palm reading booth or something because, despite all the doubts of his fellow judges, his prediction probes correct: the final two are the two Yuris.

That Yuri P makes the final surprises exactly no one. He's been on top the entire competition with hardly a single misstep.

That Yuri K made it through is more of a surprise. Victor isn't sure how he overcame his off-season yips, but he likes to think his pep talk helped. Yuri looks bemused, baffled, totally out to sea when his name is announced, and accidentally takes a step forward when the time comes to say good bye to the loser, Thai contestant Phichit Chulanont. Everytime Victor thinks Yuri can't get more adorable...

...well, there's more than one reason Victor wants an opportunity to chat with Yuri before the finals. He doesn't get one, though. The producers refuse to facilitate it unless they can film it, and Victor refuses to ask Yuri out on a date on camera. Hopefully, Yuri has some unknown pool of confidence he's been saving because if he choked for the final...

...he doesn't choke.

The challenge is to make the meal of their lives cooking food their style - specifically, if they were to have the chance to make their own "last meal" what would it be? Both stay true to their roots, Yuri P with pirozhki and other Russian staples, Yuri K with katsudon and handmade noodles and the best fish stock Victor has ever eaten. Both meals are phenomenal, and the five person judging panel argue literally all night trying to reach a consensus. Ultimately, it can't be done. It's a hung jury. Victor and food critic Morooka are firmly in favor of Yuri K. Yakov, his fellow chef and ex wife Lilia, and guest judge Stephane Lambiel agree on Yuri P. Since consensus is impossible, Yuri P is named winner by popular voice.

Victor can't take his eyes off Yuri K's face when the winner is announced. Despite his self-effacing attitude and apparent casual belief that he couldn't win, Yuri looks crushed, and Victor feels as awful on his behalf. He's determined to talk to Yuri before the end...he has to...there must be away...

...but in the whirlwind of goodbyes they get no opportunity. They manage only one long hug, where Yuri holds on a little longer than propriety might suggest appropriate and Victor can feel the wetness of tears soaking through the fabric at his shoulder where Yuri had pressed his face.

And then Victor is off back to his New York restaurant and Yuri is gone god knows where and Victor doesn't even have his number and hell no he's not asking the producers for it.

Everytime he thinks about it, all he can do is sigh. He even tried googling Yuri but other than his bio for the show, which was vague at best, indicating he worked for his families restaurant in Japan without even saying a city where it was located, there's no information to help him find Katsuki Yuri now that the show is over.

At least, when Yuri sees the show, he'll likely hear at least some of the flattering things Victor said about him in the one-on-one interviews. Maybe Yuri will call.


Yuri goes home to Japan and resumes his position at the family business, unknown and unremarked on. He'd entertained the vague hope that going on the show would help advance his career and it's not until the season starts to air that he realizes how misplaced his hopes are. New Chef Select doesn't air in Japan, and Yuri isn't even able to stream it to his computer. He was on TV, did great, almost won...and now he won't even get to watch it.

He should have expected that.

Going home is depressing, though he tries to pretend it's not. He works long hours at the restaurant. He practices his craft like he's always done. Every day, every week, is a replica of the one before and Yuri's hopes that things might be different slowly fade. He's applied at fine dining restaurants in Japan but with his background none will hire him, and he can't afford a one way ticket out of the country, much less afford to move to a country with a more thriving foodie market. Heck even if he went how would he get a work visa? The paperwork for appearing on New Chef Select had been a pain in the ass and that was just for a couple months.

It's hopeless.

And he does love his family and want to support them.

So he lets go of his dreams and moves on - grows up. He's right where he belongs.

And he definitely doesn't dream about Victor's offer of a job, or the small hints he got that maybe Victor was offering something more.


Victor doesn't understand why Yuri doesn't call. The show's editing is flagrant - since Yuri is a finalist they play up Victor's little crush literally all season long, and highlight the exchange about Victor wanting to hire him (followed by a talk piece where Victor joked about giving Yuri his number, complete with a silly hand gesture mimicking using a telephone). If Yuri doesn't call after THAT...

...but Yuri doesn't call.

Christophe shows up to work and does maybe five minutes prep before he pulls out his phone, waves Victor over, and says, "I found what you've been looking for." Victor scoffs at that, the jokes write themselves seriously, until Christophe produces a screen cap of a small, worn restaurant featuring a beaming portrait of Anthony Bourdain, an older Asian man and woman who look married though Victor couldn't say why he thought so, and...

...and Yuri Katsuki.

"But if you're not interested..." Christophe teases.

It's Yuri's family. It's Yuri's restaurant. Yuri looks years younger and Victor rapidly concocts a theory of the young man serving Bourdain that amazing food, realizing how talented he is, starting to dream of being more than a cook at the family restaurant.



Victor isn't quite on the *next* flight out...the best he can manage is four days later.

Hasetsu isn't big but it still takes him a bit to find the right place, guided by the photograph Christophe gave him and his memory of Yuri's delicious cooking. Ultimately he doesn't see anyone he recognizes but one bite of Kitsune udon and he knows when he's found the right place. (Yuri's sister turns out to be manning the front that day, she was away at college when Bourdain visited)

He's star struck a new when Yuri sheepishly emerges the kitchen. It's been nearly six months and Yuri has gained an absolutely adorable amount of weight - somehow he's even cuter pudgy than he was svelte - and he's wearing thick classes and his hair is all over the place - all the television polish is gone and Victor is totally gone over him.

Now all he has to do is get Yuri to go back to the States with him.


The day seems ordinary enough to Yuri until, while working in the kitchen, he hears a familiar voice cheer "vkusno!" over a bowl of kitsune udon.


Victor is *here.* in Japan. At his restaurant. Eating his food.

If there were any place to hide in the tiny kitchen, any way to flee unobserved, Yuri would be gone. As it is, he's trapped and he cannot begin to fathom why Victor is there.

Victor offers Yuri a job.

After some hemming and hawing and a kick in the ass from his first culinary teacher (outside home that is) Minako, Yuri accepts.

That should be their happily ever after but Yuri has convinced himself that Victor is only interested professionally. It takes them months more before they finally get to love confessions, triggered when Yuri gets so wrought up over his feelings for Victor that he decides to quit. It's Victor's fault. If Victor didn't flirt with everyone...if Victor hadn't *stopped* flirting with Yuri, making it clear that of all the men and women in the kitchen Yuri is the one person he's not interested in...

Victor is horrified. He stopped flirting because he wanted Yuri to take him seriously, after he learned that Yuri had never had a significant other and had never even been kissed until the day Victor coquettishly gives him one in jest. When Victor realizes the pathetic depths of their miscommunication he rectifies the situation immediately, pinning Yuri to the door and kissing him senseless.

Yuri doesn't quit.

He does, after a few dates, happily spread his thick thighs to sit on Victor's face...

...and their restaurant gets a Michelin star, too.

It's a good life, really.

Chapter Text

James Novak arrives in London the most eligible bachelor of the Ton. His family is wealthy, titled, and respectable enough that even as a third son James' prospects are bright. He has a fortune of his own £30,000 and no want of suitors. Yes, many are fortune hunters and bits of muslin not worthy his attention, but many are quite eligible, sweet young women and men whom James thinks he could be happy with, if be could only choose amongst them.

And there - there's the rub. Because James isn't only choosing an amiable life companion, no. His family guards a secret writ in their blood, a seed of inhumanity from which no descendent escapes. James' stylish clothes hide an abnormality of anatomy such as would make the faint of heart swoon and the strong willed blush on shame or turn away in disgust. Even were it not a great secret, he could never speak it in public. He has no way to warn a potential spouse. No, he must do his best to navigate the social complexities of London, the jealousies and competition of his various suitors, and the politics of his family - his must juggle all these factors to find an acceptable partner, and attempt to judge which among those pandering to him will not shy from the truth when, on their wedding night, it is inevitably revealed.

And so he alights on an idea, to frequent the seedier sides of town where sexual perversion is always available for a price, where witches and warlocks promise to provide ones ideal mate if only for the night, peddling potions that modify bodies and change desires. Among these low folks, James assumes the pseudonym Castiel and seeks for one among his circle who has also chosen to "slum it," hopes that by advertising his unusual penile anatomy, perhaps he can attract who he seeks without betraying his many secrets. Many, male and female, rich and poor, pay for the services available. If even one...

...and sure enough, there is one. Of course it would be the least eligible, most lamentable, damnable man that James has met since the season started. Dean Winchester is wealthy, handsome, boorish, uneducated, abrasive, flirtatious in the worst sense. He's left a trail of ruined young men behind him, flung aside like trash after he's deflowered them, and he doesn't even have the shame to be secretive about his misconduct.

James *loathes* him.

And in the dark of the night on ---- Street, Mr. Winchester solicits "Castiel," bends over a bed for him, and though James has turned down every actual attempt at sex, he cannot resist taking this man down a peg, cannot resist obtaining - nay, *creating* - blackmail material that can bring down even a known rake like Dean.

Once he has the information, James waits for the perfect moment to ruin his ill-mannered rival, continues his night time pursuits, and flirts with the most eligible of his potential spouses.

Except Mr. Winchester comes back to "Castiel."

Over and over again.

And James continues to wait to share what he knows, finds himself increasingly reluctant to betray Mr. Winchester. Because there's something about Winchester that makes James wonder if he's misjudged the man, makes James wonder if Winchester is a fraction of the cad he pretends to be.

Indeed, he starts to wonder if instead of being the aggressor, Winchester might not be the victim of society many times over.

And it doesn't hurt that not only does Winchester not mind the peculiar anatomy of James' penises...he actually seems to genuine like it.

And so James has a new set of problems - How to court Winchester, how to solve the problems around Winchester and determine who seeks so desperately to ruin him, and how to make Winchester, with his sunk reputation  acceptable to his family.

Or, the enemies-to-lovers gothic queer Regency Destiel au I didn't realize I needed until I thought of it.

Chapter Text

But what about ABO tentacles where alpha Dean is locked in the basement leaking pheromones and usually it's not noticeable and it's a world where alphas and omega aren't that common for whatever reason and then omega Cas moves in and when he goes into heat and his sense of smell ramps up suddenly he's acutely aware that there's something down there and it freaks him out but he's in heat ffs so he goes and gets what he needs and afterwards he is so conflicted about it, like, it's kinda dubcon and Dean is a monster (pretty literally I think) but it also felt good and he can't decide what to do so he leaves Dean down there while doing what he can to make Dean more comfortable. And every heat, Cas goes down there again. And Dean gets more and more possessive and aggressive and ultimately claims him so omega Cas is mated to this tentacle monster with whom he only interacts when he's so high on hormones he can't think straight and everyone notices that he's mated cause how could they not and he has no idea what to do so he tries to keep it a secret except uh oh monster ABO mpreg babies (there's oviposition involved definitely) and so finally finally Cas works up the nerve to go to his basement and actually try to interact with Dean tentacle monster.

And anyway it'll end up happy but I'm too tired to tie the idea off.

Chapter Text

Okay but a fic where Cas has a business and Dean opens a new place next door and they meet for the first time because Deans customers keep parking in Cas’ parking lot and Cas is pissed and initially they’re totally rivals and Dean thinks he’s straight and ultimately ends up being the neediest bottom who ever bottomed and I’d call it “Parking in rear.”

Chapter Text

After college, Yuri opens a bookstore with his best friend Phichit. Everyone tells them it’s a terrible idea - how can they compete with Amazon? What if they have a falling out? Brick and mortar stores are so passe! - but they’re undeterred. Yuri handles the business end of things, and is up on a ladder stocking stuff so often that a lot of customers don’t realize he’s the coowner. Phichit handles the customer service end of thing, enthusiastically, and is very popular. Six years on, they’re making ends meet, live in two tiny apartments over the store, and have a dedicated local following. Detroit is so inexpensive that space is cheap, which helps, and they get all kinds of tax breaks for operating a business there, which also helps.

There’s only one big problem.

Yuri is *painfully* shy. And he hasn’t dated since college. And he’s a total workaholic. And seriously he needs to get out more cause he’s starting to drive Phichit stir crazy.

And that’s when he gets an idea.

A brilliant, wonderful idea.

So he runs the idea by Yuri- what if they did a “date my bestie” contest? Just for fun? Circulate it on their social media accounts, ask prospective daters to submit photos and short personal essays, choose the best, most appealing three- one date with the cute shy bookstore owner.

Yuri only agrees because he’s convinced the idea will never get off the ground. Who’d write a personal essay just to go on a date with him??

But he does acknowledge he’s pretty well stuck when the damn thing goes viral.

They get applications from all over the world, which is utterly insane, and for the most part Phichit focuses on those from folks within a few hundred miles. With the number of applicants they get, it takes Phichit several weeks to sort through, but finally he has it down to three:

Christophe Giacometti, an exchange student from Switzerland.

Victor Nikiforov, a business man who opened up a small local bank.

Jean-Jaques Leroy, who actually lives in Toronto, and is some kind of…athlete? It’s not super clear but his essay makes it sound like he’s assuming they’ll recognize him. They don’t. And Phichit decides not to bother with Google.

The dates are set, the winners selected, and Yuri is just a smiiidge terrified.


Christophe and Victor have been on again off again fuck buddies for years, having met when Chris opened an account at Victors bank. It’s Chris who finds the competition and goes to Victor with a simple proposition - make a game of it between the two of them. Whoever can get in the cute, shy bookstore owners pants first…wins.

Neither considers for an instant that one of them might actually…like the guy…


Yuri’s dates with Chris and Victor go well, whereas JJ turns out to be something of an egomaniac. Or, at least , they go as well as can be hoped given that Yuri is…Yuri.

He’s shocked when both men ask for second dates. Phichit has to talk him into it, ultimately pointing out that Yuri actually LIKED them so why is going on date 2 an issue?

So there’s a date two. And a date three. And Phichit documents everything on social media, and their follower counts soar. The ploy is, if nothing else, doing short term wonders for their bottom line. Yuri increasingly feels uncomfortable, though, because he ISN’T uncomfortable with Victor. He genuinely likes Victor. And that makes him feel bad, like he’s stringing Chris along. So finally he musters the werewithall to break things off with Chris.

Victor tries to declare their bet done. He desperately wants it done. He’s kinda terrified to realize he’s falling for Yuri *hard* and if Yuri ever finds out that initially Chris and Victor were playing him…

…but Chris insists on the “actually must have sex” part of their deal.

So Victor is stuck.

He should never have made the bet.

He should have come clean with Yuri as soon as he realized his feelings were growing.

Instead, they keep dating, and Yuri is…Yuri is *great*…and Victor feels trapped. Maybe he should just walk away? But oh the ache in his chest when he contemplates doing so…

Needless to say, Victor and Yuri eventually get physical.

And Chris (who is definitely not even slightly jealous of either man, nope, not at all) decides to be a total asshole about it.

Miscommunication and hijinks ensue.

And it all works out happy in the end.

And there might be a menage a trois in their future as well…

Chapter Text


Imagine trans!Dean (ftm) who has to still play the part of the demure young lady most of the time in order to meet familial expectations but who is desperate to get out of his shell. Cas meets the eligible young woman (or so he thinks) and is intrigued and interested. Deanna is a little old to be single but she’s quick witted and smart and looks lovely when her hair is all styled and her bodice is tight. Meanwhile, Dean has been talking to Sam and they’ve concocted a plan, using an outfit from when Sam was younger - for Sam to take Dean, in male clothes, with him to events (Sam is enthusiastically supportive of his *brother*). So Cas starts meeting Dean at the races and boxing matches and clubs.

He doesn't recognize Dean as the young woman he's been considering wooing but Cas does know, and has known, that he's bi (obviously in period appropriate terms and guilt complexes) and he really wants to spend more time with the intriguing young man but Sam won't tell him more and Dean keeps disappearing and meanwhile Deanna is lovely and distracting and Cas is so confused and torn... 

Chapter Text


Dean returns from service in the Civil War with one arm amputated below the elbow and a constitution shattered by illness. With Sam, his only family, studying law at NYU, Dean heads to New York. He has minimal funds and even less employability, and thinks to live with his brother, but finds Sam hard at work studying and engaged to a lovely young lady. Rather than mess up Sam's comfortable life, Dean lies his face off claiming that he's fine and needs no support. He even pulls off being alone in a hotel for a few months before his finances catch up with him.

Disgusted by the necessity, he reluctantly advertises for a roommate.

Sam finds out.

Sam is furious at him for lying.

Sam introduces Dean to his acquaintance, Castiel Krushnic, a quirky Russian immigrant who has scared away four roommates already. Krushnic does he's damnedest to make Dean the fifth before they even move in together, going into excruciating detail on the decomposition of corpses that would have most men running for the hills and most women swooning.

Dean isn't most men. Between the war and his job in the Constabulary before that Dean reckons he's seen more dead bodies in more unholy awful conditions even than Krushnic.

Thus he finds himself not long after living in noisy, confined quarters not far off Five Points. He still has no idea what Krushnic does but he has a roof he can afford with a few cents left for food and what more can he ask for?

...something to do would be nice... seriously. He's going fricken stir crazy.

Krushnic mostly ignores Dean. He gets visitors at all hours, sometimes disappears for days, and can't be bothered to pick up after himself. His food smells bad and his socks smell worse and the less said about some of the filth he brought home the better. He owns more books than Dean has seen in any library, public or private, he's ever seen, and when he's puzzled or annoyed he gets the cutest look on his face and his Russian accent gets that much thicker and...

...and Dean keeps those thoughts to himself. Only in the army, where men of all walks were desperate for companionship, were Dean's predilections acceptable.

They've been cohabitating about 6 months l, peaceably, rarely even bothering to converse, when Krushnic wakes him up at 4 in the morning.

"I have need of your expertise."

"My what?"

"Come with me."

Annoyed, and a little turned on, Dean obeys. It's a chilly night, drizzling, late enough and unpleasant enough that even Five Points is deserted save for a knot of men gathered around...

...yep, those are the police, and yep, that's a corpse.

"How long has she been dead?"

"You think that's my expertise?!"

"Can you tell us or not?"

...well, he wanted something to do. So Dean takes a look. And gives his answer. And with 24 hours they've caught the man who killed her thanks to Dean's information. Heck, the cops even spot him a fiver for his efforts. That'll feed him for a month.

"So...this is what you do?"

"...what is what I do?"

"Help the police solve crimes?"

Krushnic laughed and Dean knew he was doomed. That face, that gorgeous sound, that mischievous gleam in Krushnic's eye, all were irresistible.

"I find crimes. I tell the police. I solve them. I let the police take credit. They have their uses. I don't have access to a prison, or judges. They do."

"How do you find crimes?"

Krushnic grins.

And tells him, about his connections with the underworld and his ties to political machines and his ins with gangs and brothels and all the seedy businesses that made New York City a cesspool.

And he asks Dean if he wants to help.

And, God help him, Dean says yes.

So he launches into his most dangerous pursuit yet; getting shot at for hours at Gettysburg hardly holds a candle to some of the shit that goes down in New York. It's terrifying and satisfying and exhilarating and Dean should quit but can't bring himself to. Krushnic will be the death of him, either from a bullet in an alley, a brick to the head, or sexual frustration. But, then, Dean's thought himself a dead man walking for years so it hardly matters anymore.

When Sam finishes law school and starts working he becomes their "in" for prosecution, and the three together bring down some of the most nefarious criminals the city has ever seen.

It's years after they start their work together when Krushnic does something Dean had long thought impossible.

Krushnic surprises him.

They'd worked a hard case and solved it. Dean got kicked around a little...okay, a lot...

...okay, he'd almost died...

...but it's not a big deal...

...except it apparently is to Krushnic.

First surprise: Krushnic is capable of crying.

Second surprise: Krushnic is crying because Dean got hurt.

Third surprise: Krushnic feels the same way about Dean as Dean does about him.

Fourth surprise: there is literally nothing on earth sexier than the guttural growl in Krushnic's gorgeous accented voice as he insists Dean call him Castiel and insists Dean suck his cock.

Not dying, as it turns out, has some really amazing perks.

Chapter Text


Today on Celebrity Swap, we welcome renowned model - and recently-turned-actor - Jack Zimmerman. Jack followed in his mother's footsteps by going into fashion and became internationally famous for*ass*ets.

But what if he'd taken after his dad instead? Jack's dad, "Bad Bob" Zimmerman, was the greatest hockey player of a generation.

*cut to a close up Jack*

"My dad, you know, he wanted me to go into hockey, and I tried, but I wasn't quite good enough. I can skate decently but..."

*cut to footage of Jack skating a damn sight better decently*

Modesty is just one of our guest star's endearing qualities!

*the camera lingers on Jack's ass*

We'll leave our viewers at home to judge his other features.

Today, we'll be partnering Jack with Eric "Bitty" Bittle, the unexpected breakout star whose speed has helped launch the Boston Bruins into the post season.

*cut to Bitty standing in a huddle with his teammates; the view slowly pans up, emphasizing just how much smaller Bitty is than those around him*

Where most hockey players win with brawn, Bitty is all speed. But, he's a bit camera shy.

*close up of Bitty on what looks like a sound studio, standing awkwardly, protesting every time they try to get promotional photographs of him*

Will Bitty be able to teach Jack the ins and outs of the rink?

*footage shows Bitty expertly weaving over the ice, dodging between opponents to score a goal, getting tackled in celebration by his teammates*

Will Jack be able to turn Bitty into an ambiturner?

*footage shows Jack absolutely owning a runway, acing a Murder Strut (tm) while wearing nothing but underwear and a headdress*

Find out on today's episode of Celebrity Swap!


Jack knows he disappointed his father when he chose to be a model instead of a hockey player. He could truly have done either. But after what happened with Parse during his junior hockey years, Jack thought it better that he move on. In person, he's shy, reserved, but something about the spotlight makes him fearless, makes him feel like he's someone, anyone, other than Jack Zimmerman in the best possible way. And so he embraces the public eye, always keeping his private life very much private.

The last thing he wanted was to star on a reality TV show where he'd be expected to open up, but the producers of the movie he was in insisted on it as a promotional stunt, and Jack had no choice but to allow it. At least the hockey part would make his dad happy. There was supposed to be a game at the end, with Bittle and a bunch of the Bruins B-listers playing against a team of semi-pros headed by Jack. He's dreading it. Modeling is one thing, but skating again? And worse, being a leader again? Why would anyone listen to *him*? The whole point of modeling was to follow directions.

At least he'd get some practice on the show before the game, though. Because his role was to teach this awkward Bittle guy how to strut, and lead him through a photo shoot that would ultimately lead to the production of a charity calendar featuring buff hockey players mostly in the buff. Jack would be telling Bittle what to do.

Hopefully, Bittle wouldn't be as arrogant and full of himself as Jack's dad's hockey buddies. But Jack wasn't optimistic. All the positive press Bittle had gotten since he went pro would be enough to go to anybodies head.


Bitty is dreading his appearance on Celebrity Swap but dammit that calendar is for *charity* and a boys gotta do what a boys gotta do. Still, he stress bakes the entire night before and shows up on set looking awkward in skin tight jeans and an oversized Bruins hoody and no less than four pie containers with fresh pie that he attempts to surreptiously add to the snack table.

"Those look good!"

He turns, and there's Jack Zimmerman, and hot damn if he isn't even more gorgeous in person than in photographs. Bitty is *way* to gay not to give himself away when there's that much beef cake around. And while yeah, his team all know he's flaming, if it got out to the league in general...

Bitty doesn't want to think about how badly the crap would hit the fan if he outed himself on national television.

Damn Jack Zimmerman.

"Oh, you're Bittle!"

And that's how they met. Over pie. How fitting.


Though supposedly the events of the episode take place over a day, they actually spend several weeks training and filming. The shows producers put Jack and Bitty in a two bedroom apartment near the studio and for the weeks in question they are shuttled from event to event, photo shoot to ice rink, from dawn until well after dusk. Being near Jack 24/7 does nothing to cool Bitty's interest in the man. Jack is much more shy than Bitty expected, and only opens up, only seems genuine, when they're in the privacy of their apartment. Adding to Jack's being drop dead gorgeous, he's also modest, smart, a history buff, a great skater, and hell if he doesn't make *the* most sinful sounds when he's eating some sweet concoction Bitty has made.

The stress, mental and physical, and the strain on Bitty's libido are killer. Thank God the apartment is thoroughly stocked with flour, sugar, butter and fresh fruit. And thank God they're getting so much exercise during their shootss, cause Bitty is baking a truly unhealthy amount.

It's just for a few weeks.

He can get through a few weeks. Yes he has a killer crush but he's a big boy and he can cope


When Jack imagined what a professional hockey player would be like, "stress baker" never ever ever entered into the picture. Yet there Bitty was, endearingly sweet and bumbling in their apartment, incompetent and self-effacing to a fault while being photographed and taught to model, and absolutely hell on blades on the ice.

Jack had never wanted anyone more in his life, not even Parse.


They make it to the last night before the big mock hockey game before their chemistry boils over. Both are forlorn (and a smidge relieved, believing their pining unreciprocated) that they'll be parting ways. Both believe it's for the better. It's Bitty who launches into the sentimental "this has been fun and I'll miss you" spiel.

Jack stares at him.

Jack thinks about how much he'll regret it if he doesn't say something.

Jack worries that there are cameras in the house even though the producers swore there aren't.

Jack grabs Bitty's wrist and drags him to the enormous master bathroom - the only place he's *absolutely sure* they won't be observed. Bitty protests the whole way, confused and worried, but let's himself be pulled along.

The bathroom door slams.

Jack slams Bitty against the door.

Bitty grabs Jack's shirt and slams their bodies together.

Lips meet. Full on fireworks. Better than either had expected, and they'd expected a lot. Bitty's got his hands on Jack's perfect ass and Jack's got an arm lined up over Bitty's gorgeous, curved back and it's all hard muscle pressed against hard muscle and plush lips against plush lips. They make out until they're both breathless, only to break apart at last...

"...what is this?" asks Bitty. "Is this just tonight?"

"...I hope not?"

"Okay, let's do this right then."

If it had been a one night stand Bitty was so ready to fuck or be fucked but if it's not?

He wants to know *everything* about Jack.

They talk all night.

And thus when they show up at the rink the next day and Jack's team comes out of the locker room - players from around the league, headed by Kent Parson - Bitty knows *exactly* the subtext, exactly the drama that the producers are trying to stir up.

Well, if they want drama, he'll give them plenty. He wants to see Jack succeed, and that's impossible with Kent at Jack's shoulder, so Bitty puts himself in front of Kent and keeps him out of action as much as possible. By the second half of the game Kent is furious because dammit this pipsqueak won't even let him *near* Jack, wtf? It ends in a massive brawl on the ice, and Jack telling an injured Bitty that he's an idiot for picking a fight with Kent, and make up kisses by the dozen.

When they each go back to their respective homes, they have each other's phone numbers and addresses in their pockets.

And each books plane tickets to surprise the other that night.

And once they are positive there are no cameras, they don't waste any more time with merely kissing...

Chapter Text

Story opens with Castiel watching the boys go home from school and spotting the one he wants, Dean. He’s been watching Dean for a while, thought him attractive, and has been struggling with himself trying to decide how to deal with his attraction, but he’s lost the fight. He can’t deny it any longer. He decides that tomorrow will be the day. Sets everything up. Gets ready. Next morning, feels pretty good about stuff. After school, lures Dean into the house, knocks him out. Strips him, ties him to a chair spread eagle. Struggles with himself. Dean starts to stir. Runs a finger over Dean’s hole. Gets a “no.” Starts to chicken out. No it’s already too late I have to continue . Lubes himself up and just fucking goes for it. And holy shit it feels good. The boy doesn’t scream, doesn’t say stop, groans in a way that suggests it hurts but is also incredibly hot. Castiel thrusts a few times, Dean sounds into it, Castiel is high on adrenaline and passion and Dean is talking and he tunes it out cause if Dean asks him to stop now he doesn’t know how he’ll cope...and then he realizes that Dean is begging Castiel to touch him, begging Cas to touch his cock. So Castiel obliges and they both get off.

Have a talk. Share “Dean” and “Cas” as names. Dean says he has to go by 4:30, asks if they can fuck again first. Castiel is utterly flabbergasted but agrees. And they do. And Dean says that if Cas wants, he can come back on Thursday.

After he leaves, Cas just assumes he’s fucked, that the boy was clever and fooled him and that the cops will arrive at any minute. Except they don’t. And Dean comes back, and they have sex. Dean continues to protest being fingered, so they keep doing it that way.

Their relationship builds over time. A lot of smut – a little masochism, some bondage, light-but-unnegotiated BDSM kink. Dean reveals little things about his life – his troubles at school, his younger brother, etc. Cas is more tight lipped but he helps Dean, makes him meals, takes care of him, starts helping him with his homework. Dean comes untouched for the first time and Castiel thinks it’s the hottest thing ever and decides to train Dean to come untouched every time.

Meanwhile, Castiel’s inner monologue reveals some secrets about his own past and his own abuse. He’s so incredibly grateful that he found Dean, he found a boy who wants him – which is exactly what he would have longed for, if he’d had a choice – and it means he’s not hurting someone who isn’t interested, etc.  However, he increasingly suspects based on small signs that Dean is being abused. He can’t help Dean without revealing himself. It bothers him a lot – an ever increasing amount as time passes and their relationship grows.

Dean’s training involves a point system. Every time Dean comes when he’s not with Castiel, he gets a tally. When he reaches a certain number of tallies, he’ll be punished. It doesn’t go well at first – even though Dean really loves coming only on Castiel’s cock, especially since after he does Castiel always takes care of him, pets him, teases and pleasures him again until Dean is hard once more and then sucks him off or strokes him through another climax, holds him close and praises him for being a good boy. It’s obvious Dean is happy when they’re together. He really, really works to not come, and slowly he gets better – coming fewer and fewer times. Cas doesn’t penalize him as heavily when it’s a wet dream – Dean can’t help what happens in his sleep, so he only gives a half-tally.

Castiel notices minor signs of abuse, feels worse.

Dean hits the first tally limit. Punishment smuuut.

It takes six months before the first time that the young man – after all, in the depths of puberty – to go their three days apart without coming. They have sex and Dean is so delicious and Cas thinks he might lose it completely. Afterwards, Castiel cleans Dean, holds him close, pets and nd takes care of him and tells Dean he loves him.

Various more smutty times. Sometimes, they play abduction/rape games that are consensual, and they both like them. Then, Castiel decides to play a new game – he sneaks into Dean’s house – and they play in Dean’s bedroom. Dean seems extra tense but they are very careful. After they’ve done this a few times, Castiel catches John Winchester abusing Dean, and it’s all he can do to not kill the son of a bitch for hurting his boy. He also suspects that Dean allowed Castiel to come sneak over in the hopes that Castiel would see this. In the sexual abuse, Castiel sees all the things that Dean doesn’t like – especially the fingering – and how little care John takes of Dean’s needs, touching him only with his fingers in Dean’s whole, not otherwise caring for him at all, leaving Dean hard and upset and alone.

Castiel doesn’t want to embarrass Dean and they have a subtle talk the results of which are that Dean makes it clear that he doesn’t want Castiel to interfere, cause if Castiel does, Sam will be left alone and be the next victim. Dean’s staying there protects Sam.

Years pass. Dean gets very well trained, they are happy together, they’re in love. Dean is clearly hopelessly infatuated, and Castiel feels the same, but as Dean approaches 18 it gets harder for him. Dean is growing bigger, filling out, his voice is lower, and despite himself, Castiel finds himself getting less aroused. At first, neither says anything, but it becomes increasingly unavoidable.

The summer when Dean is supposed to start college, they have a falling out over it, leaving Dean a wreck, leaving Castiel broken hearted but unable to prevent how he feels physically, even though he in fact loves Dean.

He eyes other young boys, but between his adoration for Dean and his unwillingness to hurt another boy, he can’t bring himself to do it. Based on everything, he finally finds the nerve to go get help – he finds the nerve to admit his problem.

At first, his therapists think he’s even more sick than he is, that he systematically abused Dean AND convinced himself there was true affection. One doctor, though, really listens and comes to believe Castiel – that they were in love, that Castiel found a one-in-a-million relationship, that Castiel is utterly sincere in wanting help so that he can be with Dean again. With the doctor’s help, they do what they can do tackle Castiel’s pedophilia, get him talking about it more openly, discussing the abuse Castiel sustained when he was a teen. The conclusion is that Castiel will need to train himself – to want Dean – similarly to how he trained Dean to only come on his cock. After three months of in-patient, he goes home and continues twice-a-week out patient treatment, while he begins to work on new strategies and tries to find the nerve to talk to Dean.

The possibility is taken from him; Dean shows up on his doorstep, Sam over his shoulders. Dean is bleeding and looks like he took a beating; Sam is the same age Dean was when Cas and Dean started. John tried to touch Sam, they fought, and Dean took Sam and left. Cas wonders why Dean isn’t worried that Cas will hurt Sam, and Dean just gives him a disgusted look – he knows better.

Cas convinces them to call the police, and John gets arrested for his treatment of Dean. Dean is granted temporary custody of his brother, and the courts agree to allow both to stay with Cas (the nature of Castiel’s psychological treatment is successfully kept secret, and Castiel’s therapist actually supports this move – in private they discuss it, and therapist actually thinks it’ll be good for Cas).

Things are pretty good but distant. Cas takes care of them, helps Sam with his homework, etc. He isn’t physically interested in EITHER of them. Dean is obviously hurt and distant and doesn’t give any openings for them to talk. Finally, Castiel insists and they have a long talk – about Castiel’s feelings, about the efforts he’s been going through, about the fact that Cas still loves Dean but this is very difficult for him, pedophilia is a disease and there’s not any cure. Cas fesses up to the abuse that he sustained, hoping it’ll help Dean understand.

At first, Dean says no. A few more weeks go by, John’s trial gets more stressful for the boys, and one night Dean comes in and lies on the bed with Cas. Nervous, Cas eventually holds him, and for the first time since they arrived Dean relaxes a bit.

That becomes the new normal. They make an effort to keep it a secret from Sam – which proves to be ridiculous, as a long talk between the three will reveal. Sam knew all along, knew Dean was being hurt, knew when Dean found something separate that was making him happy, pieced together that “something separate” was Castiel as soon as they went to Castiel’s after the incident with John.

After a while of sharing a bed – Castiel unaroused all the while – Cas starts helping Dean deal with his arousal. It’s the least he can do. And, when they are comfortable with each other again, they start Castiel’s training. They use blindfolds and other tricks to convince Castiel’s body as much as possible that they are three years before and Dean is still young – even old recordings and the like. He stares at old pictures of Dean, locking his boy’s appearance in his head. And they manage to have sex. Dean comes so quickly on Cas’ cock that it leaves him sick on arousal and he fucks Dean’s brains out. It’s awesome.

It doesn’t always work. Sometimes they can, sometimes they can’t. But over time, they get Cas to the point that he can always maintain arousal while blindfolded, and then they tackle while unblindfolded. John gets sent to prison for a long, long time. Dean keeps on with college, despite all his self-deprecation, and Sam is doing well in school. They talk it over as a sort-of-family-unit and Cas decides to get a bigger house so that Sam will have more privacy. Cas keeps going to therapy, and keeps showing improvements. He no longer feels particularly aroused by boys; he’s basically not aroused by ANYONE but Dean, which only seems fair since the side-effect of the training that Castiel did with Dean already meant that basically Dean wasn’t attracted to anyone but Castiel. Dean starts going to therapy, too.

After a long time, Cas proposes – he can do that, since Dean is an adult too – and they get married. End with their wedding night smut, no blindfolds, just 40-year-old Cas and his young lover and a whole lot of happiness that neither thought they’d find given how fucked up they each were by their childhoods.

Chapter Text

Steve owns a tattoo shop and Bucky owns the florist next door. So far, so fluffy, right? Except that Steve is 200 pounds of all American ex Navy Seal beefcake. And Bucky is...

Well, honestly, Steve isn't sure what Bucky is. Other than devastatingly hot. For a long time, Steve though Bucky was also ex-military. He had the physical build, the bearing, and the thousand yard stare. He was about Steve's age, mid 30s, and Steve figured that, as Steve had, Bucky had used his post-service benefits to go back to school and start over in some benign career that'd never serve as a reminder of Afghanistan or Iraq or wherever he served.

That impression lasted until Bucky came in for a tattoo. He exposed his bare back to Steve, revealed a vast canvas covered in tattoos, and those markings told a story as surely as words could have.

Russian mafia tattoos.

Siberian prison tattoos.

US prison tattoos.

(...recognizing that kind of thing is a hobby, okay? Steve's just insatiably curious.)

So definitely not ex military.

Bucky shoots him looks as if expecting Steve to comment, but Steve says nothing. Bucky wants the tattoos removed, destroyed, or failing that covered up. Steve doesn't pry. He uses everything he learned while earning his MFA, and proposes a masterful cover up. It takes almost a year to complete and is suitable spectacular- a work of art for a work of art. Bonus, Steve gets his hands all over the guy every one of their brief sessions. It's all he's likely to get. Steve's dropped plenty of hints of his interest and Bucky has never said a peep. So, not interest.

Well, that's a damn pity. Bucky doesn't know what he's missing. His loss.


The first day the florist shop isn't open when Steve arrives at work for the morning, Steve doesn't think much of it. Unlike the tattoo shop, which employs multiple people so remains open even if Steve needs a few days off, Bucky's florist is a one man show. If Bucky gets a cold or goes on vacation, the shop closes by necessity. This time, Steve assumes his sick - if his absence is planned, Bucky puts a sign on the door, empties out his cut flowers so they don't go bad, and arranges for someone (sometimes Steve) to water the potted plants. Since vases of flowers are still visible within the shop, Steve figures the absence his unplanned. He texts Bucky to see if he should stick his head in and see to stuff but doesn't worry when he doesn't hear back.

By the third day, Steve is getting concerned. That the shop is still closed isn't a big deal, but Bucky isn't answering texts, which is weird, and that morning one of Bucky's regular shipments of flowers is outside the back door. Bucky would never just leave everything. There's no evidence that anyone has checked on the shop, so Steve uses his key and does some basic clean up - disposing of the spent blooms, watering then pots that need it, bringing in the shipment before anyone can steal it.

By the fifth day, Steve is worried enough that he calls the local hospitals to see if Bucky has been admitted to any of them. Bucky has a work ethic like woah; unless he was dying he'd never miss five days in a row. When none of the hospitals will tell him if Bucky is there or not, he considers filing a missing person's report. He also fiddles through the business papers in Bucky's filing cabinet until he finds the info for his supplier and puts a hold on deliveries. It's a liberty, but again, Bucky would never want his stock to just sit and rot. He's still debating the police report when he gets distracted by bad news of a more personal nature - Peggy, his former CO, calls and tells him that James Falsworth is dead, has been dead for several days - he was found decomposing in his apartment with a bullet through his brain. The news sinks Steve's spirits. His squad was small, elite, and tightly knit. Given the situations they'd gotten into it was a miracle they all got home alive, and to have Falsworth die now, and by violence, was beyond unfair and very depressing. Peggy added that the police had no suspects and leads, and suspected Steve be on his guard. They'd made enemies and the case smacked of an assassination.

On the sixth day, Steve is fretting - about Bucky, about Falsworth - as he does inventory at the tat shop, preparing for the weekend before they open Saturday when there's a knock on the door. He turns and, through the glass, sees a gorgeous red head at the door. He shouts that the shop isn't open and she slaps a badge against the window.


Breathless, he rushes to the door. "Is this about Falsworth?"

The woman smiles, a cold, humorless look, and gestures that they should enter the store.

"I'm Agent Natasha Romanov, and I'm here to talk to you about the asset known as James Buchanan Barnes, and yes, about James Falsworth."

"...what does Bucky have to do with any of this? Wait, is Falsworth's death *related* to Bucky disappearing? And what about--?"

"Shut up, Captain Rogers, and I'll tell you everything you need to know."

Given her evasive wording Steve is surprised by how much Romanov does tell him. Bucky is in witness protection. After being arrested in his role on a murder for hire ring, he turned federal witness and put a bunch of mafia folks behind bars. She believes he's been found by non-incarcerated members of the organization that employed him, and that he's been put back to work, surely against his will.

So...Bucky is an assassin.

Steve has a very bad feeling he knows where this is going.

"The assassination of James Montgomery Falsworth matches Barnes' MO, down to the last, never-made-public details."

"Bucky wouldn't..." really, how did Steve know what Bucky would do? That thousand yard stare...Steve had always known Bucky was a killer. He's only surprised by how unsurprised he is to learn the truth. Except... "Why are you telling *me* this?"

"We need your help."

"'s not a coincidence that he was put into witness protection next door to my shop, is it?"

Romanov's Cheshire cat grin is all the confirmation he needs.

So Steve is back on government payroll, leaving the shop in the capable hands of his manager, former air force pilot Sam Wilson.

Romanov, Steve, and Peggy team up to look for Bucky. It's not an easy search, and two more of the Commandos are killed while they search. It's not until they track down Bucky's handler, pseudonym Alexander Pierce, that they learn a fraction of the truth.

The Commandos destroyed a Russian plot in the Middle East, hence the current action against them.

Bucky didn't want to go back to his old job, not at all, but he couldn't resist the payment they offered.

Steve can't believe that. He cannot, *cannot* believe that any amount of money would compel the smiling florist back to his former life as an assassin.

Oh no, Pierce laughs, not money. You, Steve.

Steve blinks.

"The price of the asset's cooperation was your life. If he took six lives, we would recompense him with yours."

Bucky did all this...for Steve. To protect Steve, to save Steve's life. When fucking Romanov - who is definitely not FBI no matter what her badges says, Steve thinks she's NSA - put Steve next door to Bucky as surveillance and protection, she set the plan in motion that culminated in...this...

Why did Bucky value Steve's life so highly?

Steve hoped it was, he didn't dare hope his feelings reciprocated. Bucky had never shown any sign.

Then again, if Bucky suspected the truth, suspected how vulnerable his position was...maybe he said nothing to protect Steve.

God. Fucking. Dammit.


Catching Bucky ends up requiring using Peggy to bait a trap. The whole thing goes to shit - Bucky is too smart not to recognize a trap - and Peggy and Steve both end up getting shot, and Romanov shoots Bucky and claims she meant the shot to be non-fatal but Steve has his doubts - but Bucky is brought in and the shadowy organization he works for, Hydra, is partially exposed and many more members arrested. Sam and Steve's other veteran employees - almost a special ops team on their own, he hired some badasses - a marksman named Clint Barton, former Mossad agent Wanda Maximoff, and...okay he doesn't know what Scott Lang used to be but he does know no one is that much of an off the wall joker if they're not running from the darkest of memories. It's good thing they have so much firepower because otherwise Hydra would have won. As it was, it was a close thing, and plenty of their members are still on the loose.

Bucky is...distant. reverting to assassinations hurt him deeply, and there's no sign of whoever shot Steve - Hydra had sent a sevond assassin and when it looked like Bucky would renege on his side of the bargain, they demonstrated the price of failure and Steve almost died. Steve doesn't care. Heck, it's not even the first time he's been shot, or the first time he's almost died, but Bucky avoids him for days.

However, when Steve finally breaks through the idiot's reticence, gets him to talk, and they finally share their feelings...well, the confessions are totally worth it.

(No. No they're not. Nothing is worth the lives that were lost to protect Steve, nothing is worth what Steve suspects Hydra did to Bucky to break him enough that he'd work for them, nothing is worth the pain so many of his friends have experienced.)

But being with Bucky feels amazing and dulls the pain, and that's something.

And Steve is more than happy to settle back into their quiet existence as neighboring business owners, with the added development that they're lovers and husbands. Bucky loves him, and he loves Bucky. It doesn't heal the past but he has to believe it was worth the cost, and they're happy.

Wary, but happy.

And the tattoo shop employees are the most adorably protective guard dogs ever, and Natasha keeps an eye on them - all combining their efforts to ensure that whatever else happens, it never lands on Bucky and Steve's doorstep ever again.

Chapter Text

Legend said that whenever the kingdom of Hasetsu was attacked, dragons would swoop down from on high to protect it. Prince Yuri had been raised  with that promise, believed in it, and unlike the kingdom's citizenry, Yuri knew why dragons would save them. The royal family - *his* family - had for generations interbred with dragons. The practice was taboo, so was kept a secret, but it had blessed them with many powers and secured their alliance with the dragons. Yuri could fly, cast healing and ice spells, breath a stream of ice, ignore the cold, and metamorphose part or all of his body into a dragon form. Long, sinuous, and iridescent blue, Yuri mad a magnificent dragon, which compensated somewhat for his lackluster human body - or it would have made up for it if he could tell anyone. But no one outside his immediate family could ever know what he was. His magic needn't be a secret, as spells were common enough, but his dragon blood was a death sentence if it ever came out. To maintain the secret he was required to marry a relative, and was expected to breed with another dragon - possible only because gender was meaningless to dragons and Yuri, like his full-blooded kin, was biologically both male and female, capable of producing eggs and inseminating them. Indeed, if the worst should happen and he be forced to wed an outsider, Yuri would be expected to sabotage his wedding bed, inseminate his own egg, and the child would be claimed as his sister's to secure the secession.

Despite the limitations it wasn't an unhappy life but still, Yuri wished for more, especially the freedom of choice to marry whom he would. And there was one person in particular he admired...


Victor loved being a knight of Hasetsu. He wasn't from the kingdom and thought a lot of their mythology nonsense (dragons? Really? Everyone knew dragons had been extinct for generations.) Still, he served loyally because despite some quaintness, the kingdom was happy, successful and safe and Victor was well treated. He was especially attached to the young prince, for whom he served as personal bodyguard. Prince Yuri was shy, quiet, too reserved to seem a promising king, though he was also observant and very smart. Victor always felt much older than the prince, even though there was only a decade between them. He'd thought that Yuri growing older would bring him from his shell but if anything he retreated more, absenting himself from the kingdom for days or weeks sometimes, without even Victor to guard him, and locking himself in his room for weeks at a time.

Victor worried about him. Not that he thought Yuri was in trouble - Yuri was too pleasant and naive for trouble - but because Yuri was so isolated and private.

Despite those worries, Yuri grew up strong and healthy, and his 18th birthday was cause for a kingdom-wide celebration, including a feast at the castle with dignitaries from all over the world. The doors were thrown open and all were welcome. Beautiful music and fantastic aromatic herbs filled the air. Delicious food weighed down the tables. Performers circulated the crowd, amazing and delighting. Even Victor, with his work ethic, struggled to concentrate.

The King and the Queen were dead before anyone realized that the fete was under attack.  The blood splatter alerted Victor and he tackled Yuri to protect him. The battle that followed was grim and difficult. Victor was one of the few guards and he was badly outnumbered as the masked attackers tried to kill Yuri, the last surviving member of the family, as Yuri's sister was killed right before them. Yuri stood, frightened and shell-shocked, at Victor's shoulder, healing every wound Victor sustained. Even with that aid, Victor couldn't win against so many, but he was able to spirit Yuri from the castle and to safety - and just in time, too, for Yuri no sooner reached shelter than he collapsed in utmost exhaustion, drained by the magic he'd done.

Victor had no idea what he should do next, so he hid them, scavenged food, kept Yuri warm and safe, and waited for him to wake up.


No dragons defended Hasetsu. Grief overwhelmed Yuri when he woke up, overwhelmed him for days after. Unable to give Victor the direction he sought, Yuri allowed Victor to move them at random from safe house to cave to cellar to abandoned farm. Victor would forage or visit towns for provisions, but no one knew who had attacked the kingdom, only that the entire royal family was dead (Yuri's survival was not being publicized, apparently). No one had claimed responsibility. No one, apparently, was in control.

Yuri should go back to the capital.

And they tried, they really did, but they were being hunted. Evidence increasingly suggested that the link to the dragons was the problem. Victor insisted there were no dragons but Yuri knew better - he'd seen his parents transform, and his sister, and had met two full blooded dragons during his teenage solo quests.

Maybe they should seek the dragons instead. It would make more sense. But it meant telling Victor the truth, and Yuri could tell no one. Even though, after several weeks traveling together, Yuri was convinced of what he'd always suspected: that he was head over heels in love with his guard.

There was no chance someone as worldly and mature as Victor would reciprocate those feelings, though.


Victor was so screwed. He'd always liked the prince, maybe more than liked him, but his age had kept Victor from truly considering...anything. that wasn't a problem any longer. Yuri was 18 now, and they were traveling in close quarters, and Victor was well and truly sunk in love. It made him vigilant, but also vulnerable. He was too invested in Yuri to be a truly good guard. But he couldn't leave either. It was simple truth that Victor was one of the finest warriors in the kingdom, maybe the finest, and no one could protect Yuri as well as he did. But Yuri was a prince - king, now, if he'd claim his throne - and Victor was a knight and there was no future there.

Yeah, that was the only issue, not their age difference or anything else.

After a couple weeks Yuri finally seemrd to settle on a plan of action and ordered Victor to accompany him toward the mountains. He didn't explain, and though Victor was curious he doesn't question his king. Hewas glad Yuri has a direction and that grief hadn't shattered him. It was a long, time consuming, circuitous route by necessity as they dodged soldiers and assassins sent after Yuri. They still knew little about the culprits, though it was definitely about the supposed dragon connection (absurd!) - It appeared the anti-dragon Templars were behind everything. Victor supposed that, with all the dragons gone, they felt the need to concoct a false accusation to justify their existence. Everyone knew the legends about Hasetsu.

But they were just legends.


If Yuri wasn't so busy with his quest to seek his dragon relations in the distant mountains he'd have counted the days and known how close he was to his mating period. He'd have noticed the emotional and physiological changes that presage raging hormones. Before his world shattered he'd have prepared, warned his family, stocked his room, and retreated to seclusion until his fever of desire was passed.

With everything that had happened, Yuri didn't realize the danger until it was far too late to prepare. He woke up hot and horny, hard and desperate for a mate, and Victor was right there. Horrified by the temptation of the gorgeous knight, Yuri fled, returned to a cave they'd hidden in days prior, huddled in on himself and prayed that the need burning him up would pass quickly. But of course it didn't. It always lasted at least a week.


Waking up to find Yuri gone was terrifying. Frantic, Victor used everything he knew of tracking to find his charge. He'd expected to find evidence of abduction but there was none.  Over a long day of tracking Victor saw no sign that Yuri was under any kind of duress. By the time he tracked Yuri to the cave, he was confused, worried, alarmed...and the sounds he heard echoing from the depths only deepened the mystery - moans, groans, Yuri was injured or...

Victor walked in on Yuri vigorously masturbating.

...or horny.

That was too damn hot.

And...and something was different. Unless his eyes were playing tricks, Yuri had two dicks. Two blue dicks.

That was too damn weird.

Yet somehow still hot.

"Victor! No, you have to leave. I can't...I can't control myself."

"What's wrong?"

"Just...just go. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to..."

"Tell me what's going on!"


Victor smelled like heaven, looked gorgeous, and everything in Yuri's hormone swamped head screamed *mine...mate...claim...keep...breed.* Yuri shook with the effort of restraining himself, and Victor wouldn't leave. Instead he demanded explanations, expected coherence, had no idea the danger.

Of course he didn't. Yuri had never worked up the nerve to tell him the truth.

"Yuri, if you're sick I can get treatment for you, or help. Anything you need - anything at all!"

*an open invitation!*

It was all Yuri needed. With a roar, he tackled a surprised Victor, tore his pants and armor away with raw strength, and embedded is achingly hard cock in Victor's ass. Victor screamed - *no, I don't want to hurt him!* - and Yuri curled around him, curled over, healed him with every desperate thrust.

Victor made no effort to get away. He couldn't have succeeded but he could have tried. Delirious on pleasure, sick with his heat, Yuri thrust and thrust and thrust, came, switched it his ovipositor, thrust and thrust and thrust, came, repeated the process. Victor was so pliant and hot beneath him, moaning, and the scent when Victor came with a howl of bliss was intoxicating. Yuri was big, much too big for an anal canal, and to prevent injury to Victor, Yuri healed him fucked him, healed him and fucked him, until he blacked out from the drain of the magic and the exhaustion of his exertion.


Victor had long since lost track of how long had passed since Yuri mounted him when Yuri finally passed out. He'd felt the continual tingle of Yuri's magic, incinerated under unending pleasure and stimulation, come over and over. He was weak and shaking when Yuri whimpered, came, and collapsed, pulling his larger dick from Victor's ass. A flood of come sluiced free, coating his legs and making a puddle on the floor.

The come was oily and shimmered iridescent. Yuri's crotch was scaled. His exposed legs had elongated, combined, into a sinuous snake tail.

Yuri wasn't human.

Yuri had, technically, raped him.

Victor should be traumatized, horrified, furious.

Instead, he was sick with worry. Was Yuri sick? Had he been targeted by a malignant spell? There was no knowing with Yuri unconscious. Victor was exhausted but otherwise unhurt thanks to the healing so he scavenged some food and water.

When he returned to the cave with the supplies, Yuri was awake. His eyes glowed blue, pupils elongated like a snakes. His hair was white as ice, his hands become taloned claws. With a snarl, Yuri launched himself into Victor, claws digging into his shoulders, and then they were having sex again, and Yuri was healing him again, and Victor would lose his mind it all felt so damn good.


Days passed in a blur of mindless, mind-numbing sex. Yuri couldn't control himself, didn't try to. Victor was his now, and the imperative was to breed. To be awake and not fucking was agony.

But he retained enough to know - Victor is only a man, he needs rest, he needs food, he needs water - so Yuri healed him and screwed him until Yuri passed out, woke up, and did it again.

Victor was always there when Yuri woke up.

Victor knew he was claimed, too.


It was a surprise when, after days and days, Victor came back to see Yuri entirely human save for his crotch, curled in on himself, weeping and stroking one of his dicks.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, so sorry..."

"It's okay, we'll talk when you're recovered - tell me what you need."

"Have to...have to..."

Yuri attempted to lunge towards Victor but collapsed instead. His hand never stopped working over his dick. Victor approached, cautious, ignoring Yuri's weak suggestions that he stay back. Yuri was clearly too exhausted to function and too desperate to pass out again. Even his strokes were fumbling and useless. Victor curled around him, wrapped a more confident hand around Yuri's cock, and rubbed and rubbed. The cock grew fat in his grip, impossible so, a huge bulge moving slowly down the length as Yuri sobbed and screamed in pain. Finally, finally, the cock slit spread wide and out egg.

A dragon egg.

What the fuck?

But there was no asking, for Yuri immediately passed out again.

Victor went to forage more food.

And that's when their pursuers found him.


Yuri awoke, exhausted, in agony, but mostly out of his breeding sickness, to an empty cave. The egg lay before him on the floor, translucent shell revealing the swirling placenta within. Outside a body it couldn't be inseminated. Yuri had retained enough sense to not impregnate Victor. Well, that's something.

But Victor hadn't come back.

Yuri waited.

Victor still didn't come out.

In despair, Yuri sank back into exhausted unconsciousness.

It was a couple days before Yuri felt well enough to move and to think critically. Victor had scads of opportunities to leave, yet kept coming back. Clearly, Yuri's beyond the pale behavior somehow for some reason hadn't driven Victor away. Only at the last did he leave. So either seeing the egg was the last straw, or...

...or something had happened to him.

With a roar of fury, instinct took over. Yuri was in full dragon form for the first time in his life when he emerged from the cave - long, blue scaled, four short clawed legs holding him up, whiskers draped over his long snouted face, a line of white hair down his spine. He could smell Victor and so he took flight without wings, moving as if slithering through air, in pursuit.

Victor's scent led Yuri to a templar encampment.

They had him.

Yuri would annihilate them.

Yuri laid waist to it with his icy breath. They tried to fight back - they injured him with projectiles and fire magic - but he was too enraged for them to stand a chance. They'd taken his mate. Only when he was victorious, when Victor lay asleep or unconscious before him, did Yuri think on the horror of what he'd just done.

Victor would never accept him after that.

Victor opened his eyes and Yuri bunched his muscles to leap airward, to flee, waiting for Victor's fearful reaction.

Victor smiled.

Yuri froze.

"Hi, Yuri. I'm glad you found me. They hurt you...any they'll pay for that..."


Afterwards, they talk for hours. Yuri tells Victor everything, and Victor makes it clear he stayed while Yuri was in his mating fever because he wanted to. They talk over their options for proceeding. While Yuri wouldn't mind his kingdom back, he doesn't want to do again what he did to the templar camp. It's not worth the fighting and the death to him. So they decide...screw it. Yuri can fly. They can go anywhere. There is a whole world to explore.

And off they go, together and happy.

Victor had to acknowledge, he'd been damn wrong about there being no more dragons. He'd never been more glad to be wrong about something in his life.

Chapter Text


Castiel takes his position very seriously. As a priest and a Hunter he has no end of responsibilities, and between the war and the waves of immigrants that pass through New York City it seems like every weird monster from the world over finds its way into the dark city streets. It's more than enough to keep him busy - it'd be more than enough to keep a half dozen of him busy - even if he didn't also have his religious duties.

He always figures a hunt will get him killed one of these days.

Well he sure mixed that one up.

Meg is one of his best, most regular parishioners. She's devout, well meaning, with a lovely family - a husband and 4 grown sons- all veterans, and no casualties. No one deserved it more.

Battle doesn't care who deserves what, who has earned what. The only god on the battlefield is death. Cas had seen that first hand as a unit chaplain for four years, but Meg's confession drives it home. A decade back when her boys left she was in despair, she admits, and she didn't think prayer to a higher power would be enough to preserve them, so she set her eyes lower.

She made a demon deal.

And it's come due.

Castiel knows Meg, had feelings for her once upon a time, has known her boys since they were babes. If she dies her family will be destroyed, and she'll be consigned to hell. After she leaves, Castiel kneels before the altar and prays for guidance all night, keeps at it all the next day.

He knows what he has to do.

At midnight he goes to the crossroads outside the church, summons the King of the Crossroads, and strikes a deal. His soul for Meg's. It's a good deal; Castiel is a man of god and a Hunter, celibate, chaste, devout, hard-working. Crowley doesn't hesitate to accept, and his lovely hellhound Juliet drags the priest down to hell that very night; his torn corpse is found in the streets the next morning.


Castiel is in hell for millennia. Crowley is fond of him, and he's passed around Crowley's friends and allies and enemies as a trophy and a toy. No one tries to break him - there's no point, he hasn't sinned and that gives him a strength that the greatest of their tortures can't overcome - but because his soul his safe from being turned demon he makes an unusually enjoyable plaything. They defile him in every conceivable way, more than enough to shatter his faith in God without damaging his goodness. There can't be a god. No deity would permit what has been done him. He is torn apart time and time and time again, violated, broken and rebuilt. There is no Lord above, only the evils of the deep.

They can't break him unless he lets them. If he begged to be spared their tortures he'd become one of them. He's seen it happen to others. But demons are subjected to tortures as severe as the souls of the damned. There's nothing to be gained in giving them the satisfaction. There's nothing to hope for so Castiel doesn't hope, but he exists, separates his brain from his torments, and perseveres though he can think of no cause for doing so.


Rescue, to Castiel's astonishment, comes in the form of a blazing brilliant light that sears the eyes of every demon around him. Within that incandescent glow the impossible. If Castiel didn't know better he'd think it an angel, complete with immense wings, gleaming armor, and a blazing sword. But no god would permit what has been done to Castiel and if there is no God there are no angels.

Castiel believes that until the being lays hands on him.

Then he *knows*. This is an angel. There is a god. Castiel was left by those he'd served devotedly for a lifetime. There is a god and he or she or it is an indifferent asshole.

His awareness of hell incinerates and Castiel hopes what he's never hoped before - that this is truly the end, that he'll never open his eyes again. Castiel hopes for oblivion.


Castiel opens his eyes...and he's in his church. Even after thousands of years of torment the four walls are as familiar and comfortable as his own soul. For a wild few moments he thinks maybe his experiences were a dream, a fevered nightmare.

Evidence suggests otherwise.

1.  There is a handprint burned over his heart, stinging as if the flesh is yet damaged.

2. The light within the church isn't from candles or oil lamps, but from strange glowing glass spheres.

3. The stained glass windows are aglow golden even though it's night.

Confronted by these impossibilities Castiel steps outside to a world completely changed.

He died on October 31st, 1871.

A newspaper in a metal dispenser on the nearest corner informs him that the current date is September 18th, 2008.

Dazed, confused, astonished, at a complete loss, Castiel stumbles back into the church to escape the lights and bizarre vehicles and overwhelming newness of everything. He plunks down on a pew, closes his eyes, and for the first time in his memory he sleeps easy and without pain.

It's all a dream. It must all be a dream.


It's not a dream.

The pastor wakes Castiel up to a gray morning, shouting at him that he's not allowed to sleep on the church, how dare he. Dejected, with no clue where to go, Castiel heads out but is intercepted by an elderly black man wearing what looks like some kind of uniform. Turns out his name is Joshua and he is the janitor. He knows Castiel name - from a photograph in the office hallway, apparently - and apologizes for Pastor Zachariah being a jerk. Joshua takes Castiel in, setting him up in Joshua's tiny apartment in Spuyten Duyvil. Joshua doesn't question Cas' mysterious reappearance, which is fricken weird, and councils Castiel to have faith, which is impossible. The god that left Castiel to rot in hell for thousands of years doesn't deserve Castiel's faith.

Castiel only knows two things - religion and hunting. Neither will earn him a living and he has no interest in the former any longer, but Joshua helps him get the night janitor position at his old church and Hunting is remarkably unchanged by the passage of a hundred plus years.

So Castiel hunts, and janitors, and crashes on Joshua's couch (Joshua is a hunter, which explains his nom chalance) and pitches in for rent and tries to figure out why he's alive and what he's supposed to do with himself.

He hasn't a clue.


The woman who passes him on the street can't be Meg. That's impossible. Yes, she looks like her despite her modern dress. Yes, she does a double take when she sees Castiel. But it's as impossible it could be her as that Castiel could still be alive.


Before Castiel can pursue the suspicions that her appearance creates, events outpace him. He's cleaning the nave when there's a huge crash. Multihued glass rains down on him and something large thuds to the ground beside him. Fire crinkles through paper and by it's light he sees a handsome man.

Something resonates through Castiel, and the handprint on his chest throbs.

The fire isn't burning paper. It's burning wings, flames limning every feather as they incinerate.

It's the angel who rescued him. Castiel is sure.

Sirens sound in the distance and Castiel hurries to hide the unconscious man. He's gravely injured, his back seared, his wings skeletal remnants of their former majesty, his torso raked by the familiar parallel wounds left by hellhound claws. His armor is rent, his sword missing. Even so, he's heavy and frighteningly pale as Castiel drags him to the janitors office. By the time Castiel gets back to the main floor, Zachariah is there demanding to know what happened and Castiel's night passes in repeating the same lies to Zach, the police, the fire department, some men in suits, and someone he thinks is a Hunter.

He catches a glimpse of the Meg look alike among the pedestrians rubber necking the damage.

When Joshua arrives, Cas tells him everything - or enough, anyway, there's no point in discussing all the things that befell Castiel in hell. Together they hide the angel and bind his wounds and nurse him, if not back to health, at least back to consciousness.

His name is Dean, and he explains there's a war between heaven and hell. Castiel assumes he's a warrior but no - Dean says, in shocking language, that he doesn't give a rats ass about Gods plan. He's on his own, and he spends his time pulling souls out of hell, folks like Cas who never belonged there in the first place.

Cas suspects there's more to it.

And he thinks Meg is involved.


I don't have all the ins and outs of the rest worked out yet, and probably never will. Meg is a demon, and always was. She lured Cas to hell, along with hundreds of others. Dean and Castiel are both being targeted by people on both sides of the war. Joshua knows more than he should and never explains anything he doesn't have to. Cas teams up with other hunters - Hannah, Hael, and more, and he finds his brother Gabriel still alive thanks to the unwanted intervention of a vampire (he works at a bloodbank and lives on the rejected bags).

New York City has become a flash point in the war, pitched supernatural battles in the streets masquerading as business as usual. Everyone expects Castiel and his angel ("his" angel? Really?) To be at the heart of the conflict. And he does what he must to protect innocent people from suffering a fraction what he's been through, but all he really wants his to be left alone.

But Dean really is his angel, it turns out. Cas doubts it until the moment he's losing his virginity (he refuses to count what was done to him in hell) balls deep in Dean's inhumanly hot body as it's bent over the altar, fingers tangled in Dean's slowly healing wings. When they're together, nothing hurts, and it's glorious.

Maybe being alive isn't so bad after all.

Chapter Text

Dean is a hunter - mostly deer, that kind of thing, kills them himself, preps the meat, sells at farmer’s markets because it turns out that’s actually damn lucrative - and he’s pretty happy with life overall. Of late, though, he’s starting to think that, when he’s stalking prey, something is stalking him. He never catches a glimpse of whatever is on his tail, never hears them, yet he can’t shake the feeling.

And then, one night, he’s out alone, tumbles down a ravine, and finds himself face to face with an enormous silver wolf with a predatory gleam in its eyes and intelligence obvious in its every action.

Dean’s pretty sure he’s dead meat. The hunter, become the hunted.

What he doesn’t expect is the wolf to start licking his crotch, or cuddling up to him, or keeping him warm through the night.

(or, a fic where Castiel is a mute but most definitely sentient wolf, and Dean is waaaaay more turned on by this than he thinks he oughta be…)

Chapter Text

Hasetsu, as everyone knows, used to be home to many hot springs, but with Japan’s economy shifting, most have shut down.

Yuri and Victor, as everyone knows, have had damn impressively extended careers. In a sport where the winner is often the youngest and spryest, that Victor has met with unparalleled success at 27, and Yuri at 24, is remarkable. But it can’t last forever. They make a damn good run of it, even spending a final career year fucking around doing ice dancing together - less athletic, more artistic, well suited to their talents, and oh the scandal of two men doing official pair skating together!

But, as with all good things, their careers do come to an end.

Which leaves a question: now what?

Or, the fic where Yuri takes everything he’s learned in a lifetime of helping his parents run their onsen, and he and Victor use their skills to rehabilitate an abandoned hot spring retreat, but with a twist: instead of a Japanese-style ryokan - which would risk competing with his parents’ business - he and Victor are going to open a western-style Bed and Breakfast.

Chapter Text

Dean Winchester is a legend spoken of in hushed whispers - the pie guru. They say he lives lonely, acetic life on a mountain top, a hermit who shares his secrets with no one. They say he lives deep in the forest, and only the worthy can pass through the many trials to find him. They say he owns an island in the Caribbean, so isolated that even the island hopper planes can’t reach it on a tank of gas, and the only way to get there is to chance the Bermuda Triangle and risk disappearing forever. They say Bill Gates has offered a one million dollar reward to anyone who can locate Dean and bring Bill a slice of perfect Bourbon Pecan. They say many things about the man, the myth, the legend. All in the quest for the perfect pie.

Everything they say is bullshit.

Dean’s not an idiot, he knows the best place to hide is right in plain sight. Anyway, if he lived in the middle of fucking no where…what the fuck would he make pie out of?

Dean is the pie guru, but he retired from his high-flying public life to open a hole-in-the-wall pie shop in San Francisco. All he sells is pie - and only by the slice - and only whatever pies he feels like making that day. People tell him he could make a killing selling pies for the holidays, selling whole pies, having his apple pie available every day, but Dean doesn’t care. He busted his ass for years, makes enough on royalties from his cookbooks and licensed merchandise that he doesn’t have to work, and doesn’t give a shit if he makes a profit or not. He’d grown to hate baking, and all he wanted was to find that love of pie again. He goes by the name Dean Smith, and plays the business man, acts totally different than his reputed persona, and is left alone.

Until he isn’t.

Castiel Novak is determined to learn the secret to the perfect pie. He’s also not an idiot, and he knows no baker worth his salt (or flour or butter) would retreat to a mountain top. He also knows no baker as dedicated as Dean Winchester was reputed to be would just…stop. So he travels the world, searching for shops that sell pies, and sampling the goods, in search for the perfect slice.

The hole in the wall in San Fran didn’t excite his enthusiasm, but one bite of Strawberry Rhubarb and Castiel knew…he’d found the real deal.

So he confronts Dean, names him, and instead of outing him, befriends him, to learn his secrets. Begrudgingly at first, but with increasing enthusiasm, Dean shares the secrets of his pies, the ones he keeps so close that he didn’t even put them in his cookbooks. Castiel is gorgeous, and an avid student, and Dean might be a little bit in love.

Which only makes the betrayal that much worse when Castiel takes what he’s learned, heads to New York City, and opens a store with innovative pies whose popularity even rivals the legendary cronut.

Lemon Pecan Meringue Pie.

Cinnamon Spice and Everything Nice Buttermilk Pie.

Sorghum Gingerbread Pie.

What. the. fuck.

They’re monstrosities.

After years of happy reclusive seclusion, Dean snaps, drives across the country - he’s never flying, never again - and goes to confront Castiel for betraying him on multiple levels, and demand an answer to a simple question:


(and if you’re imagining all of this as ridiculously over the top anime melodrama you are on the right track).

Chapter Text

Alpha Dean Winchester has a problem. Dean uses scent blocker every day to combat his problem - even though in most lines of work, using scent blocker, especially as an alpha, is a sure-fire way to arouse the suspicion of…everyone. Sustaining a relationship is virtually impossible; he smells so neutral that it’s hard to attract people in the first place, and when he does they all assume that once he’s in a relationship, he’ll go off scent blockers, and when he refuses they wonder what he’s got to hide. And he explains it like this…

…remember those Axe body spray commercials where some alpha sprays himself with the body spray and suddenly hoards of omegas come running?

…remember that scene in a Hard Days Night where throngs of fans run screaming after the Beatles?

…have you ever thought of the literal implication of “it’s getting hot in here so take off all your clothes?”

At first, as a horny teenager who’d just popped a knot, Dean thought smelling like the alpha equivalent of “come fuck me” was awesome. He got laid so much. No one could quite figure out what his scent was - some combination of sandlewood, orange, vanilla, cinnamon, ginger…fuck if Dean knew, all he knew was whatever the mixture was it formed an incredibly potent aphrodisiac and it was kick ass.

And then the problems started.

Fights between those who wanted him.

Crowds interrupting his classes.

Adults - strangers! - soliciting him on the street.

Parents furious at his “trifling” with their children.

His first rut nearly caused a riot, and got him…well…he didn’t report it, and he never let himself think about it, so that’s almost the same as it never happening, right?

After that, Dean no longer thought his situation was awesome. But his significant others and employers refused to believe things were as bad as he claimed, and he refused to go off scent blockers to prove them correct. What he’d been through was bad enough and, he reminded himself, someone who didn’t believe him didn’t deserve his affection or attention or hard work.

He was ultimately able to find a steady job, his work ethic making up for the suspicion his deadened senses aroused.

But a relationship? Nothing, nada, no luck.

Dean gave up.

Castiel and Jimmy Novak have their own reasons for covering up their scents. They inadvertantly scent bonded as teenagers, even though they were twins, even though as betas they shouldn’t be able to. They weren’t even in a relationship! (and if each secretly wishes they were, well, they don’t talk about it much). So they block their scents, and run into many of the same problems as Dean, with the added issue that so many people they try to date can sense that each is secretly in love with someone else, sense that they’ll always be a third wheel to this unknown other. Some even suspect that the brothers are…a little closer…than they should be. (but they’re not! REALLY!) 

Dean has never met anyone single and unattached, like him, who blocks their scent. Until he meets Cas.

Cas never asks why Dean blocks his scent, never offers an explanation of why he blocks his own, and never suggests that either of them change. Things are going great…

…until Dean meets Jimmy, and they also hit it off, and the twins start to compete for him…

…and ultimately, they make a deal. To out all their secrets at once. They rent a cabin in the woods, secluded, so Dean’s issues won’t draw the wrong kind of attention, and they spend two weeks off blockers, long enough for all the medication to wear off and reveal the scent bonded twins, and that despite their existing bond, and despite them being betas, they find Dean as much an aphrodisiac as everyone has…

…but they also find each other that delicious…

…and pretty much the whole thing devolves into an orgy.

Chapter Text

Steve is getting drunk.

No. That’s an understatement.

Steve is getting utterly fucking hammered.

Sam is gone, and he ain’t coming back, and Steve’s gotta find a way to forget how much it hurts until enough time has passed that it doesn’t hurt so badly (but he secretly doubts it’ll ever stop hurting) and the only option he can think of is copious quantities of alcohol.

He doesn’t really mean to flirt with the cute bartender whose name tag ids him as “Bucky” (and what the fuck kind of name is that? drunk!Steve might go on…several…multiple minute rants about how ridiculous it is…) …but he can’t help it. He’s all tongue tied. His parts, all of his parts, don’t seem to work the way they’re supposed to.

Right. Alcohol. 

Well, who needed motor functions anyway? Fucking over rated.

At the point when Steve ceases to be able to form coherent sentences, Bucky finally cuts him off but he does take pity on him, confiscating his car keys and dragging him to the apartment over the bar where Bucky lives (he’s not just a bartender, though Steve doesn’t know that - it’s so much worse - Bucky owns the damn place.) Steve is hot, and miserable, and even though he is a depressingly sloppy drunk, he’s still kind of adorable, and Bucky feels bad for him.

The problems start the next morning when, based on literally zero evidence, Steve sobers up…a little…and somehow convinces himself that he and Bucky slept together.

And therefore sees no reason they shouldn’t sleep together again.

And while Bucky’s not exactly opposed…he usually prefers to know who he fucks a little before having sex.

A name might be nice for a start…

Chapter Text

The train of events that leads recent Russian immigrant Castiel Krushnic to own an Italian bakery is…well, weird doesn’t begin to cut it. It starts when, not long after moving to the US, he meets Gabriel, a weird man with an insatiable appetite, a huge box of his grandmother’s recipes, and an utter unwillingness to not be friends with Castiel.

So…Castiel supposes they’re friends. Gabriel hasn’t given him much say in the matter. And it’s not so bad…Gabriel is capricious and oblivious a lot of the time but he’s also loyal, caring, protective, supportive, and hard working. Being on Gabriel’s bad side seems to be…really not good (as their competition has learned repeatedly, often in kitchen-damaging flour explosions)…but being on Gabriel’s good side? Seems to bring a surprising amount of good fortune.

Which doesn’t mean Castiel knows how Gabriel talked him into opening a bakery. And the recipes are damn good, and the place totally lives up to the name of Holy Cannoli, and Cas makes enough to bring his brother over from Russia. Immigration proceedings were a bitch when Castiel went through them, and are still a bitch now that he’s trying to bring Emmanuel over as well, but it’s worth it.

Emmanuel, being Emmanuel, takes the opportunity to change his name to Jimmy. He works at the bakery. He turns out to be really, really good at making cannolis. They resume their relationship right where they left off when Castiel left home five years ago, and life is pretty damn good. Sure, what they share has to be a secret but what else is new? At least in the US if they get caught they’ll only be publicly shamed. If they’d been caught in Russia, they’d most likely be killed, possibly with a long, unpleasant trip to a forced labor camp first.

Life is pretty good.

And then a dissheveled, desperate, gorgeous man storms into the bakery one morning, begging them for a hundred cannolis to last minute cater his brother’s wedding that afternoon because the cake maker they’d hired embezzled all the advanced cake deposites and skipped town the day before, and that’s how Cas and Jimmy meet Dean.

Who doesn’t seem to realize they’re two people.

Who maybe seems interested in one or both of them.

Who might be an excellent way to get Jimmy a green card quicker, if only they can figure out an understanding between the three of them.

And who maybe is a little more wrapped up in this whole “embezzlement” thing than he initially let on…

Chapter Text

With James moved out of town, living with Lily and talking about marriage, Sirius' life has gotten damn boring. He misses his BFF, but more than that...what do people even do alone? Doing shit alone is sucky. What's the point if there's no one to laugh with or talk to or pretend to flirt with or...

Okay he had a bit of a crush on his best friend but he knew he never had a chance. That doesn't make it less lonely now that he's gone.

To cope, Sirius creates a new hobby for himself - in animagus form, he goes out at night and deals with magical threats around the village of Lower Middleton. The village has maybe a couple thousand residents, most of them magical or squibs and the rest in-the-know muggles, and between the spells gone awry, the run away "pets," and the random crap that wanders by, there's plenty to do, and he can regale James with the tales later when he apparates over to hang out for dinner and beers.

He's been at his nocturnal pursuits a few months when he scents the werewolf. So far, everything he's dealt with has been pretty low key. A werewolf, though, is a real threat. Not more than he can handle, but definitely something he has to deal with. He tracks the beast all night and finally confronts it near dawn. It's only the first night of the full moon. If Sirius doesn't stop the monster, how many people might it infect in the following days? That it avoided humanity this first night was a happy coincidence, and he wouldn't chance such luck a second night.

He confronts the werewolf. It's a hell of a fight, and Sirius is angling for the kill, but he fails. Injured, subdued, he's even more horrified when the were decides to assert its - *his* - dominance with a show of sexual prowess. Pinned and helpless, Sirius can do nothing to stop it. It's sexual assault, flat out, only mitigated by Sirius' dog brain accepting that such things happen between canine sorts and not seeing it as a violation as he might of otherwise. In fact...its a little hot.

When the night is done and he's human again and home again, achy and nursing his wounds, he finds he really doesn't mind. Which is weird. He should mind. But oh well. He can't make himself be upset over it, so why worry.

That night, he confronts the werewolf again, with the same result. The monster is strong, dominant, powerful and His cock is huge, his knot amazing, his come hot...okay, as fucked up as it is, Sirius actually...kinda likes it?

But so much that he's not determined to win during their next confrontation.

And so begins the strangest relationship of Sirius's life. Every full moon, he pursues the werewolf, they fight, and invariably whatever plan Sirius has to win fails and he ends up, in dog form, pinned and fucked senseless, knotted and leaking come. He spends a bit of time considering how fucked up the whole thing is, especially how he gets off on it like woah, but in the end...if he doesn't's okay. And bonus, the werewolf spends the whole night fighting him and fucking him, and therefore is no threat to the village.'s a win win.


The repeat appearance of the werewolf suggests that whoever the unfortunate infected person is has moved to the area. As much as Sirius enjoys the sexual dominance aspect of their encounters, the dangers of having a werewolf in residence are too great to ignore just cause Sirius is enjoying the fighting and the sex. The were was never around and is now present every month, so Sirius reasons it must be someone who moved to Lower Middleton recently. It's a small place so that's a small number of folks.

First there's an old squib woman, Mary Smith.

There's the couple, Remus Lupin and Tonks (no other name provided...suspicious...).

There's the Weasley family.

There's a muggle pair of newlyweds.

The list goes on, about two dozen folks. Sirius contrives to meet them all, and sniffs around their homes in dog form, and finds nothing. No werewolf scent in the entire town, or anywhere near human homes in any of the local homes. That just means whoever it is has some damn manners and is making a token effort not to infect others. Unhelpful.

Remus Lupin is damn cute, sweet, very friendly, invited Sirius over for board games...

Also unhelpful. Especially since he's dating Tonks. But irresistible.

It takes about four months of flirting before Tonks confronts him.

"What the hell are you playing at?"

"Yeah...sorry... He keeps flirting with me, what else can I do but flirt back?"

"I get that, douche bag, but are you ever going to ask him out of just keep leading him on? Remus deserves better."

Turns out they're just roommates.

Tonks thinks it *hilarious* that Sirius thought they were a couple. 

With that awkwardness out of the way she becomes his greatest ally (and just is an awesome fun person to be around) but it also means that there are actually stakes in his flirting with Remus. Which makes him nervous. Which is weird. He never used to get nervous about dating. It's just dating.

Then again, he never actually got to know anyone first.

In the interest of fairness he was already half in love with Remus and didn't want to fuck things up.

If he'd ever had a prayer with James he suspects he'd have felt similarly reticent.

And then there's the fantastic werewolf hate sex. It's been most of a year and he still hasn't got a clue who the were is when he's not a hulked out furry monster.

Sirius ends up with a date set for a week hence. He'd worried Remus would suggest during werewolf nights, and Sirius would have to decide between his two crushes, but he was spared that. Heck, Remus seemed as eager to avoid that as Sirius was. Phew.

Sirius' plan for defeating the werewolf comes closer to success than it ever has. He actually has the bastard pinned and beneath him, ass up, when he's thrown off and ultimately pinned. He scores some solid hits, though, raking the were across the face and chest.

Bonus...that cut will show when the were reverts to his human form.

The full moon passes in their usual fuckfest. The following morning, Sirius ventures out on the town and searches everyone for the telltale cuts...but nothing.

Until his date with Remus. Who has four parallel gouges on his cheek. And no good explanation for the source. And looks mortified when Sirius asks. Of course even if Remus remembers what he does when he changes, he has no way of knowing that Sirius is the giant dog constantly confronting him.

Holy shit Remus is the werewolf.

*Remus is the werewolf.*

That creates so many problems.

Or...Sirius solves them.

He and Remus have a lot to talk about.

At first Remus - who confesses he does remember everything - is extremely reluctant.

But Sirius can be *very* persuasive when he wants to be.

It helps that Tonks smacks some sense into Remus.

In the end, Sirius gets exactly what he wants, and Remus is happier than he's ever been to be accepted for exactly what he is.

And they get to have a lot of tender, sweet love making sessions to make up for all the hate sex...and they get to play with every permutation of combining their different forms.

When Sirius finally beats were!Remus, pins him, and fucks him?

Best. Night. Ever.

Chapter Text

Christophe is...always around. It's really weird. It's not like he and Yuri are friends - they've scarce had a conversation, not does Christophe seem interested in having a chat now. Instead, he just kinda...shows up?...where Yuri is, and he'll wink or raise his glass or even sidle up beside Yuri and say something like, "you are way out of this bar's league."

Yuri has no idea what he's talking about.

One night after a competition, Christophe even shows up at his hotel room door with a bottle of champagne and two fluted glasses. He asks to come in. Yuri is so stunned and confused that he says yes. They talk a little, drink a little, and Yuri finally finds out what Chris has been on about.


Chris wants to have sex.

Yuri's first instinct is to say no. He's not attracted to Chris - he's only ever been attracted to two people in his life - and he's a virgin. But upon reflection - and a little more champagne - he thinks, why not?

What's the worst that happens?

So they exchange blow jobs, and later Chris rides Yuri enthusiastically, and Yuri discovers one of life's great, simple truths.

Sex. Is. *Great.*

And so he keeps having sex with Chris, and with others. Men or women, he's fine with either. It's all in good fun, and he's careful to make it clear he doesn't expect anything long term for anyone, and that they're not dating. Some, like Christophe, are enthusiastically in agreement. Others get upset when they get attached and Yuri is still not interested in more than a casual hook up. But slowly, he gets a list of folks who he can trust not to make things awkward.

He also gets really, really, *really* good at sex. He studies it, practices it, like he does skating - as a physical skill to be perfected. And, like skating where his secret goal is to win gold, his sexual practice has a secret goal too.

He wants to have sex with Victor Nikiforov. Unlike all these other folks, he's actually attracted to Victor, has been since he was a teenager, and he's never had the nerve to say anything. Victor can have anyone he wants, has loads of experience. If Yuri wants to be with him - if Yuri wants to have sex with him, and maybe more than sex, a relationship, something that lasts, Yuri has to be the *best.*

He wants to have fricken *fantastic* sex with Victor.

Yuri practices for three years. Not as long as the decade+ he's devoted to the ice, but still plenty to get damn skilled with his mouth, hands, dick, ass, and any other body part a partner expressed interest in. As the Grand Prix approaches he figures...he's as ready as he's going to be. And besides, given his dime-a-dozen skating, he may never be at an event with Victor again.

Now or never.

So Yuri seduces him.

And they go back to Victor's hotel room.

And there's a lot of heavy petting.

And Yuri *can't get it up.*

He's going round and round in his head and God he'd thought nothing would be worse than choking at the Grand Prix final but now he's choking during his chance with Victor and it's not even one of the fun kinds of choking. Beyond mortified, he flees - literally runs away - and locks himself sobbing his shame in his hotel room. Minutes later Victor is pounding on the door, asking him if they can talk, but he holds in his tears, bites his lip, and waits until Victor finally goes away.

He'll never live this down.

What he doesn't remember is the next night, when he gets thoroughly smashed and he and Victor have absolutely fantastic sex.

He does remember otherwise avoiding Victor like the man is a plague carrier, including the morning after the sex he doesn't remember having. Despondent, he returns to Japan and more sex for him. Sure it's fun but what's the point if he can't hold himself together for someone he actually wants?

Fuck his performance anxiety.


There's no real describing what goes through Victor's head when he sees Yuri's silent recreation of the Stay With Me performance. The gorgeous Japanese skater ran from him, leaving only a packet of condoms behind like some latter-day Cinderella, gives him the cold shoulder, pole dances and solicits Victor and *rocks his Goddamn world*, and then ignores him...

...and then does that heartfelt performance, with all those earnest facial expressions?


Victor has to know.

So he packs a suitcase and Makkachin and heads to Hasetsu. It's pretty clear within a few days that the banquet night was a fluke. Yuri is terrified of Victor (in a bashful sense not an actually frightened sense thank god) and avoids him even as he's grateful for the help. No, Victor realizes - the banquet night never happened. At least, Yuri doesn't seem to think so. All Yuri's looks speak to his continued mortification over his situational impotence. So Victor backs off. Focuses on coaching. Incidentally gets to actually know Yuri. Discovers Yuri is...really really great. Not just interested in sex. Actually interested in Victor, just because Victor is...himself.

It's new. A novelty. No one has ever had any interest in Victor beyond the capabilities of his body and the glamor of his stardom.

He falls hard.

But Yuri is still bashful as a virgin, and says he's never had a boyfriend, and Victor has the disquieting concern that he deflowered Yuri and Yuri *doesn't even remember*.

It's not until they actually have sex that Victor realizes...nope, Yuri is a damn pro, he just never had a relationship (and hey, isn't that BJ trick with the tongue one of Christophe's signature moves?)


As Yuri and Victor move closer to intimacy, Yuri's nerves continue to run high, but when the moment comes to drop trow again he's surprisingly fine. Victor isn't merely an ideal in his head any longer. He knows Victor, trusts Victor...

...loves Victor...

...wants to make Victor feel better than he's ever felt...

He gets Victor off 3 times their first night together, leaving him a flushed, sweaty, exhausted, come-stained mess. Turns out Victor looooves being over-stimulated. With Yuri's stamina and ability to stave off orgasm? He can rock Victor all night long.


One thing bothers Victor - how clinically Yuri approaches sex, how often he seems more focused on the mechanics of it than the actual pleasure. It takes Victor a number of tries to find an approach that pierces this reserve.

He ties Yuri to the bed. Edges him into oblivion. Doesn't let him come.

Repeats this every night for a week.

By Saturday night Yuri is beyond desperate, begging for release or at least the right to touch Victor.

And Victor let's him.

And has the pleasure of all Yuri's skill with none of his slow, methodical care. Yuri throws him down, mounts him, takes him hard and desperate while growling endearment in his ear.

It's *glorious*

Before that, Victor always worried that Yuri didn't actually want him.

He never worries again.

It's the best relationship Victor has ever had, the only one Yuri has ever had, and both are elated when they exchange rings and agree - this is it for them.

Chapter Text

Growing up, there was no hiding what he was, nor the assumptions people made as a result - that a male omega would want male alphas. Bitty could either embrace his presentation and everything it implied, or he could hate it.

Screw that.

Bitty had to much self respect not to love himself. So instead of trying to deny his identity he embraced his labels.





The last, as it turned out, caused him the most problems. Most people could accept that Bitty was interested in men, and that he flirted happily with everyone, but that he was attracted to male omegas exclusively? Unacceptable.

But he stuck through the bullying through middle school, through high school, through college, and entered the workforce with an MBA, a small business association approved, A+ earning business plan, and a "no fucks given" attitude. And he did have a few friends, buddies he made in college, so he took his plan to open a coffeeshop/bakery and moved to Boston. He was pleased to discover that in a big city, as an adult, no one asked his preferences and those who found out didn't care. He was comfortable, safe, and successful. People loved his coffee and the baked goods he woke up at 3 am to make. His friend Lardo, struggling as an artist, came on as his assistant manager and worked nights. He had good staff, a great location, and loyal customers.

But he didn't have an SO. Not for lack of looking, and not for lack of flirting. He had loads of flings but no one who lasted. Most men were alphas to betas. Among those who weren't, the majority wanted an alpha, and even those who were bipraesantare or panpraesantare held out hope for an alpha as their longterm relationship so they could have a family. The handful of omega men that left, none he'd met actually interested him.

Being homopraesantare was a pain in the ass. Like, not literally, Bitty felt sick when he imagined being knotted, but figuratively it was really annoying.

But Bitty was starting to wonder if he was actually bipraesantare.

Because of Jack.

Jack, who came in right when Bitty opened the doors every morning at 5 am. Jack, who always ordered black coffee and a coffee cake muffin, always came alone, always stayed and worked on his laptop for a couple hours before heading out. Jack, with his gorgeous eyes and perfect ass - God, Bitty would *literally* kill for the chance to eat that ass all night long every night - and his sweet smile and cute accent.

Jack wasn't an omega.

Jack took scent suppressants, so Bitty wasn't sure *what* Jack was, beyond the faint waft of old books that followed Jack around, but there wasn't a chance on heaven or hell that someone with Jack's athletic build and broad shoulders was anything but an alpha.

And Bitty wanted him like air.

Even for Jack, Bitty still didn't want a knot, ugh, no, perish the thought, but every other part of Jack? Hell to the yes to the omg.

So he flirted and smiled and made coffee blends he thought Jack would like and made small talk and while he learned a lot about Jack - that he was single, Canadian, a history professor, so much more - and told Jack a lot about himself, he couldn't get a read on if Jack wanted him back. Sometimes, Bitty thought Jack reciprocated, but nothing ever came of it. Jack used Bitty's cleverly gifted phone number to compliment his baked goods and send interesting factoids he found in history books. He shared the Instagram pictures of food with his friends but never once commented on one of Bitty's selfies. Day after day, week after week, they danced around each other and nothing came of it. Finally, Bitty accepted he had to move on. If Jack were interested he'd have made a move ages ago.

No point wasting his time on a straight alpha who didn't realize that Bitty was a catch.

And so time passes. Bitty keeps hooking up with folks but no one holds a candle to Jack and it's frustrating but it's not his first unrequited crush and he knows he'll get over it. Jack is a friend, besides, and while interacting every morning does make it harder to get over him, Bitty still wouldn't trade it.

Someone trying to open the locked front door at 4:45 am brings Bitty hurrying out of the kitchen to let Jack in - because Jack has been coming early increasingly often and just hanging out and chatting with Bitty while he finishes getting ready for the day. Bitty flips the lock and turns without even looking, the better to hide his too-warm smile.

It's not Jack.

Bitty doesn't even get a glance at who it is before they're on him. Male - smells so bitter Bitty's eyes water - alpha - strong, so strong - they knock Bitty to the floor, punching and kicking him, ranting homophobic slurs and promising to fix him and for the first time in a long time Bitty is genuinely terrified. He's been beat up before and he knows the difference between a casual school yard punch up and something truly dangerous and this is definitely the second. He tries to get up, to escape, but the man is so much bigger than him and it hurts, it hurts, it's going to get worse but he can't fight back and...

...and it stops hurting.

It's a solid few minutes before Bitty gets his senses back enough to see Jack fighting with his attacker. There's blood on the tile floor beneath him, blood on the flour-white skin of his arms, and every breath spikes pain but he gets his cell phone out from beneath his apron...his pocket isn't in the right place...God the guy had gotten Bitty's pants down over his ass, he was that close to being raped and if Jack hadn't shown up...Bitty bursts into tears. He's furious at himself - he should be more together, he's been hurt worse, he's got a business to run - but he can't seem to function and his fingers shake and tingle as he gets out the phone but he does manage to dial 911 and give a semi-coherent account of what's happened.

Jack knocks the guy out, then checks on him.

"I'm fine - fine - just gotta get cleaned up and back in the kitchen, we open in a few minutes."

The cops arrive and take statements and arrest the guy.

The EMTs arrive and struggle to convince Bitty that he needs to go to the hospital.

It's Jack who finally gets through to him, taking him in the back, cupping his cheeks in calloused hands (and why are they calloused Jack is a scholar and the detail doesn't matter but Bitty can't help but fixate on it) and telling him he's hurt and needs help and if he won't for his own sake would Bitty please go to the hospital and get checked out to set Jack's mind at rest.

Jack looks...really freaked and worried.

Bitty concedes, but not until he's texted Lardo to come in.

Bitty is in the hospital a week - broken ribs, internal bleeding, punctured something-or-other, high risk of infection...Jack visits him every day.

Bitty no longer thinks Jack isn't interested. Jack is definitely interested but something is holding him back from expressing that interest and Bitty hasn't a damn clue what.

When Bitty goes back to work, Jack is there at 4 AM every morning, expression stern, stalking around like an overprotective pit bull.

It's fucking adorable and so alpha that Bitty can't help but roll his eyes.

But it does give him a fine opportunity to sit the gorgeous boy down and figure some things out.

"Alright - enough beating around the bush - you gonna ask me out on a date or not?"

"...I'm not...I mean...I'd like to, but I didn't think you..."

"I would love to."

"I know you think that but I'm not...I'm not what you think I am." He's adorably morose and Bitty could just smack him. He's already come to terms with the alpha thing, heck he'd even take a knot...maybe...for Jack, what could Jack possibly say thatd be harder to accept than that?

"Not your place to say what I'm okay with and not okay with. Just spit it out, Jack."

"I'm an omega!" blurts Jack.

Praise Jesus and glory glory hallelujah is it Bitty's birthday?

Jack is still talking, going on about something about alphas and how people assume and Bitty can't bother listening. Instead he grabs him and kisses him. Everytime Jack protests Bitty kisses him again (once he's caught enough to be sure that the protests aren't "please don't kiss me without my explicit consent") until Jack just goes silent with a bemused, happy smile.

They talk it all out after the fact, of course, and they're both elated at their mutual attraction.

Bitty *does* get to eat that slick ass all night long and it's everything he dreamed of and then some.

The trial of his attacker is arduous, difficult, but they get though it together. It was a hate crime - the term "corrective rape" gets thrown around way too much for comfort. The day when the defense attorney does an extended analysis of what Bitty was wearing is one of the worst. Yea, he wears booty shorts in the kitchen, it's 85 fricken degrees in there all year round, and that doesn't mean he was "asking for it."

But Jack is at his side every day and in his bed every night, and together? They can overcome anything.

(The guy is convicted and sentenced to the maximum sentence for hate crime assault.)

(Jack and Bitty learn multiple valuable lessons about making assumptions based on appearance, and the trial serves as a weird mirror to the assumptions society as a whole make...)

Chapter Text

So the procedure that’s meant to turn Steve into a super soldier doesn’t go quiteeeee as planned. Oh, it’s a success. A raging success. Except that when the electricity goes still and the chemicals stop flowing and they go to open the capsule that Steve is in, they find beef cake Steve in all his glory…crushing regular old Steve, who can barely breathe (and then proceeds to have an asthma attack…don’t worry, Steve helps him…)

Mass confusion ensues but resolving it proves near impossible since immediately after Erskine is killed and big!Steve goes after the perpetrator who kills himself. With the main scientist dead they’re left with a massive conundrum because every scientist present agrees what happened is utterly fucking impossible. Like…like seriously the whole experiment is an enormous fuck you to chemistry, physics and biology. Finally, they settle on Stark’s declaration, “who cares, it happened” because no one can offer anything better and at least everyone agree not to look gift super soldiers in the mouth.

Well, everyone agrees on that except Peggy and Bucky.

Peggy has been angling for Steve since day one, of course, and putting him in an awkward position, since he can’t exactly talk about his past relationship with Bucky. Being a 4-F multiple times over can be over looked but homosexuality will get him drummed out of the service right quick…and he does like Peggy, he just…well, Bucky is Bucky. And meanwhile Bucky is in Europe and Steve’s whole situation is so off the reservation and so highly classified that there’s no way that Steve can warn him. Steve’s pretty sure that if he wasn’t personally involved even he wouldn’t have enough clearance to know about…himself.

So Bucky doesn’t know. And Peggy is…conflicted. Because both Steve’s are gorgeous in their own ways and they share a personality and (she’s starting to suspect) they maybe share more than that (and is it incest or what if it’s…himself…touching…himself???).

big!Steve gets pulled into the USO stuff. Colonel Philips wants to leave smol!Steve behind, but he goes to Peggy and, well, he begs, and she pulls what strings she can (Stark helps) and through some process no one quit figures out (not quite as mysterious as how there are two Steves, but close, bureaucracy is just as physics defying as spontaneous clonal replication) both Steve’s are able to go to Europe.

Stuff happens. Bucky gets rescued. And finds the weirdest fucking situation ever. Because they’re both his Steve, and Peggy is making eyes at both of them, and neither Steve feels the least reason not to tell Bucky about their nightly mutual masturbation sessions, and Bucky is unreasonable turned on about, well, all of this.

Hijinks ensue.

Hijinks end with Bucky, Peggy, big!Steve and smol!Steve sharing a tent, and four very, very satisfied people…

Chapter Text

Castiel had been looking for love for a long time - a long, long time. Everyone had that question, that phrase, that thing they said to a prospective partner and judged them on the basis of their response.

“I want to be the one to watch you die,” Castiel would say. No one passed that test. Everyone balked, looked sickened, looked frightened. Weak, pathetic people, who knew too much about Castiel, and had to be dealt with.

Castiel dealt with them, cleaned up the evidence, then moved on - to a new place, a new relationship, a new possibility, a new hope.

“I want to be the one to watch you die,” Castiel said to Dean Winchester on their second date, earnest, wide-eyed, endlessly optimistic.

He wanted Dean to be the one.

“Not if I get to watch you die first,” Dean countered with a wink and a smirk.

That was the moment Castiel knew he was in love.

“Challenge accepted.”

Chapter Text

Dean is the idiot who went to watch an eclipse and totally fricken forgot to get those special glasses.

Cas is the hot guy standing next to him, amply prepared, swapping out between three completely different types of specialty viewing equipment.

Benny is the hot guy standing on his other side, using a fancy ass telescope set up to do…something…maybe photograph?…the whole damn awesome spectacle.

And Dean can’t see shit up in the sky, because…well, it’s a goddamn eclipse, it’s supposed to be dark right? Except it’s not, it’s bright as fricken day, and this whole experience is bullshit, but at least it let’s him admire his neighbors.

Both of whom, he notices, seem to be side-eying him a bit, too.

The…apex? epoch? ultima weapon? whatever the fuck it’s called when the sun is completely covered, or at least supposedly completely covered, not that Dean can really tell…passes, and the attention of those around him starts to wander. Some start to leave. Telescope dude is still adjusting his equipment, though, and multiple glasses dude is still looking between the sky and Dean’s ass, and…screw it, maybe Dean can salvage something about this debacle. He just needs the right pick up line.

“Damn, well, it’s mighty bright out here…”

In those first minutes after delivering this brilliant example of the art of hitting on men, Dean thinks he’s blown it completely. In the end, none of the three of them are quite sure what sequence of events leads them to sharing a bed - the discovery that they were all in the same hotel, made when they all go down for free continental breakfast the next morning, certainly helps…and Cas (shades guy!) expressing his appreciation of Benny’s (telescope guys!) telescope certainly helps…and, well, it’s confusing as fuck but sandwiched between them and enjoying the orgasm of a goddamn life time? Dean really can’t bring himself to care how they ended up there…

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Victor is a globe trotter, brilliant, gorgeous, and popular. No one is quite sure what he actually…does?…but he makes the society pages regularly for his antics. His real job is actually prosaic, he writes travel guides, hence all the travel, and he’s very good at it, and his high-flying life style adds a certain flare to the books but for no reason he can figure out his publisher doesn’t want Victor’s name associated with those works. Surely, given his reputation, that’d increase sales, right?

Yuuri is Victor’s beleagured editor. Even without Victor’s reputation to buoy sales - the books are published under a pseudonym - his travel guides do well. Victor’s charisma means he fits in like a local wherever he goes, and the guides he publishes have a unique flare and a lovely writing style. They make a tidy profit. But the publisher looks at the bottom line and sees that they’d make much more of a profit if Victor didn’t keep expensing his extravagencies. He also suggests that they attach Victor’s name to the books, but the publisher doesn’t want to - they worry that Victor’s laissez faire attitude is going to get him in massive trouble one of these days, and when the scandal hits it could sink their entire business, not just Victor’s books.

But Victor has a secret. He’s…kind of…really…stupidly…head over heels for his editor. But Yuuri is so straight laced and proper and quiet, Victor knows he doesn’t stand a chance. Yuuri knows too well what kind of mischief Victor has gotten up to, from drunken streaking to orgies to drugs.

And Yuuri has a secret. He’s…kind of…really…stupidly…head over heels for his star writer. But Victor is so worldly and experienced and Yuuri is so boring, Yuuri knows he doesn’t stand a chance. Victor knows, depressingly well, that Yuuri spends his Friday nights cuddling his dog on the couch.

Secretly, Victor would love to spend the occasional Friday night cuddling on the couch.

Secretly, Yuuri would love to spend the occasional Friday night getting utterly, publicly debauched.

…well, as you can guess, they get there occasionally, and Yuuri grows especially fond of Victor’s habit of randomly switching languages - he usually doesn’t even realize he does it - mid-coitus.

The time Victor shouts “Yes Oui Ken” is in semi-public. An overheard. And makes the tabloids. But given that as soon as it gets said Yuuri breaks into hysterical laughter and there’s no chance to continue the sex part of their exploits, it’s surprisingly easy to pretend that what they were doing wasn’t…ya know…what they were doing

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Dean and his brother Sam are the hottest fuckin’ things the dance floor has ever seen. They’ve got the moves. They’ve got the wardrobe. They’ve got the shoes. They’ve got the hair - oh man have they got the hair - and they are taking New York City’s club scene by storm.

Until a new contender for crown of “best dressed” appears. No one even knows his name, but wherever he goes, he lights the crowd afire with his dancing.

They call him…the electric elephant.

Dean’s not sure of a lot of things in life, but he’s damn fucking sure of one thing: he is so. fucking. glad. that “the electric elephant” is not is fucking nickname.

(at least until he finds out just what Cas’ “trunk” is, anyway…)

Chapter Text

With the destruction of Asgard, Loki is bored out of his fucking skull. At first, Thor’s new mission - recolonize, rebuild, reuse, recycle, be kind rewind, whatever - seems like fun, but God, it gets tedious after a while. Okay, it gets tedious…almost immediately.

But Midgard is, as always, a barrel of laughs with so much potential.

And Loki has a plan.

Thor, naive and gullible as ever, happily quaffs the first “official” Asgard-Midgard brew, and promptly loses his memory. Loki dumps him in a new city, easily manipulates some poor human mortals into thinking they’ve known “the new guy” for ages, and even gets Thor a job at a florist.

And then fun begins.

Loki seduces him. Thor, thinking him a stranger, plays right into the romance.

So okay, maybe it’s not the height of sophisticated mischievousness but it’s surprisingly fun to go all gung-ho romance with a Thor who is still gorgeous, still kind, still forgiving, but doesn’t have the weight of millenia of baggage that comes with their relationship. So Loki keeps at it until it stops being fun.

And then he starts again. This time he makes Thor a body builder.

And again. This time, Thor is in the army.

And again, in a tattoo parlor, and again in a coffee shop, and again and again and again.

He worries…maybe he’s starting to enjoy this game a little too much…

…and sometimes there’s this knowing glint in Thor’s eye, almost like he remembers, but that couldn’t be right? Because why would Thor play along if he knew that the Asgardians were rebuilding without him and that Loki was busy playing the grown up Jotunheim version of dress up?

Chapter Text

Bucky’s 21, done with junior year, and heading home for three boring-ass months in Brooklyn with his family.

Simple enough, right?

Except they know he’s been dating.

And Bucky promised at Christmas, swore on his grandmother’s grave, that he’d bring his girlfriend home to meet his family.

Problem one: He doesn’t have a girlfriend.

Problem two: He had a boyfriend, but he doesn’t have one any more, and hot damn was that a doozy of a break up.

Problem three: He has told his family none of this.

Problem four: His mother is already menu planning and his father is getting that contemplative look in his eye as he thoughtfully says, “when she gets here…well, your mom’s got the guest room made up, but if you wanted to slip ‘er into your room, well…” *wink wink, nudge nudge* “Just keep it quiet, ‘kay, Buck?”

Only possible solution…

…well his art student theater nerd twink of a room mate, Steve, makes no secret of his fondness for cross dressing, and fuck if he doesn’t make the sweetest little blonde, and Steve’s hinted he ain’t got much to go home to - dead parents, a closet to call his own and a summer job that works him to the bone - so he might be amenable…

Problem five: Bucky’s had a thing for Steve since they met, first day, freshman year.

Problem six: Steve’s not interested in him, not like that.

Problem seven: Oh fuck does Steve look hot in a dress, and as they start the masquerade, Bucky is discovering all kinds of kinks he never knew he had. Like a love for lace, and lingerie, and heels, and frilly panties, and…

Fuck it. Steve fucking Rogers is Bucky’s kink.

And so he reminds himself, over and over…it’s only for the summer, it’s only for the summer, it’s only for the summer.


Chapter Text

Rey is a craftswoman of renown, knowing across the colonized worlds for her hand-crafted custom robots. Wealthy patrons contact her, and tell her what they want. She names her price and if they meet it, she makes it for them, no questions asked. What's it to her what happens to an android, even one with an amazing AI, after it leaves her workshop?

There's nothing unusual about General Phasma's request. She dictates what she wants - she's mostly interested in appearance, tall, muscular, dark skinned, nice smile - and light on details for personality. Probably a sexbot then. Rey doesn't skimp on the physical details, gives him a generic AI - polite, well mannered, obedient, unobtrusive - gets her payment, makes the delivery, and moves on to other jobs. She doesn't think of it more. Commissions like Phasma's are lucrative but boring, and she'd rather tinker with more challenging projects.

Two weeks after delivery, Phasma complains. Her android, FN-2187, is having a personality malfunction and Phasma wants him reset. Rey does so and sends him back, once again pushing the case from her mind.

The second time it happens, about a month after the first time, she's a bit more curious, but still bored with the job, so she shrugs, obeys, and moves on.

The third time, four months later, she's starting to get annoyed.

The fourth time, barely more than a week after the third, Phasma orders that Rey remove all AI from the unit and return it empty, a vacant shell. Annoyed, Rey resolves to find out what's actually going on by having a conversation with FN-2187 before she wipes and resets him, but she never gets the chance. When she opens the stasis box that the droid has been shipped in our pops a very angry, very good looking stranger with a laser pistol, who says if she touches Finn one more time, he'll kill her.

Who. The hell. Is Finn?

It takes a bit to talk the stranger down from "murderous" to "really fucking pissed" and when she does Rey learns the whole story. Is name is Poe, and he works for Phasma. Phasma ordered the android as a gift for her boss, Hux, but Hux was only interested when FN-2187 was a blank slate. As soon as the unit showed personality, Hux insisted the unit be wiped.

What had the personality been?

Becoming friends with Poe.

The lengthening time between each return were the direct result of Poe coaching FN-2187, whom he'd dubbed Finn, on how to pretend to be blank with Hux while actually developing as a person.

The most recent quick turnabout was because Hux figured out the deception.

Poe intervened to save Finn.

Rey is non-plussed. FN-2187 is ultimately just a bunch of circuits and boards and if the generals want him sans personality so be it. Further, they won't take kindly to having their property stolen. Rey pretends to sympathy and understanding, and asks...


Wary, Poe tells her, and Rey agrees to help - and to restore what she'd deleted on her previous wipes. At least she can get some answers before she reclaims the droid, wipes it completely, and returns it to its rightful owners. Together, they go to a small asteroid outpost where Poe has some friends who are protecting Finn. She does the restore, talks with Finn, and realizes...Poe is a little bit right. Finn, as designed, will never meet Hux's expectations. She'll end up wiping him over and over and itll be a total drag. So Rey tells Poe she'll make a new droid with no AI at all, literally just a blank sex toy, identical to Finn, and send that back to Phasma and Hux.

She never gets the chance.

The generals are pissed, and they're coming for their property, and somehow Rey is pulled into a political mess beyond anything she imagined.

Meanwhile, it looks like Poe downplayed the intimacy of his relationship with Finn. A lot. And it leaves Rey wrestling with truly frightening questions about the nature of free will and sentience, and she starts to wonder if she's been on the wrong side of history on this all along...

...especially since Finn is great, and she might just be falling for him a little, too...

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, Castiel Novak is playing with his friends in an open field when, to his confusion, the ball they are throwing back and forth shatters a window. Considering there are no buildings in the open field, this has the companions baffled. Still, they can see a strange distortion where the ball disappeared, and after breaking off long stalks of wheat and bundling them together, each friend draws a straw to decide which of them will take the risk of retrieving their ball.

Castiel draws the short stick.

He does get the ball back.

He also gets cursed by the witch who’s home they’ve inadvertantly intruded upon: to know no peace, no home, as punishment from the peace he took from the witch and the home he damaged - he cannot spend two nights in the same place.

Gabriel, his elder brother, suggests this is a technicality and they attempt for several days to work around it, but Castiel can only spend one night in his room, and the next night when he tries to sleep in Gabriel’s, in his parents, two inches to the right of his own bed, in the loft of the barn, he can’t settle anywhere. His body screams to leave, to travel, and the depth of the curse becomes clear: if Castiel perceives the places to be the same, he cannot stay there. Every room in the house is “home,” the barn is “home,” the surrounding fields and glades are “home,” and Castiel has to leave. Even the nearest village counts as “home,” and as his horizons spread, so do his perceptions of location and proximity, and more and more of the world becomes off limits - becomes somewhere he has slept, and therefore somewhere he can never sleep again.

He’s wandered very, very far.

What he never expected, never could plan for, was finding someone who might be willing to travel with him. Some try, for a time, but endless journeying is wearying, and no one wants to go so far afield from all they’ve ever known, from the familiar.

Until someone does.

If only Castiel could figure out why Dean Winchester is so desperate to get away…

Chapter Text

Victor is an ordinary guy. He's moderately successful - an account manager and investment specialist at a bank - and lives in a nice apartment in a nice part of town. He's a serial monogamist, and that's been okay too, and despite what he's friends think he's not unhappy with his relationships. He doesn't want something long term. *That* is not where his dissatisfaction with his love life comes from.

The problem is, Victor has a kink.

Victor has a really damn out there kink.

When he was young and first heard about some of the out there shit people got off on, he wondered how that happened - like, how did people even find out they had, like, a sheep fetish?

Victor didn't wonder any more.

In his case, it started with one youthful porn accident. He got off *spectacularly* watching two young men collared and and leashed and petted and fed out of bowls and treated like dogs. That initial interest was fed the one and only time Victor found a partner willing to indulge him. That one night was hands down the best sex of Victor's life.

Unfortunately his partner then freaked afterwards, dumped him, and since Victor had never found anyone else willing to give it a try. He hadn't even found the courage to explicitly ask again. He'd allude to the possibility, hint that maybe wearing a collar could be hot in the right circumstances, or that it'd be nice to curl up in a patch of sunlight and be pet, or any other example that appealed to him, and gauge their reactions.

Their reactions were universally negative.

Which was why Victor was now going through the website of an escort service, reading the profiles of the escorts on offer. Filters had reduced the number to a half dozen relevant results - male, about Victor's age, kinky as fuck, and a dom. He ranked those half dozen, picked up his cell phone...

...and put it down again, too intimidated to make the call.

It took him a month to work up the nerve and actually call the service, and his first choice, an attractive Asian man stage named Eros, wasn't available for an entrance interview for another two weeks.

Victor spent two weeks getting increasingly nervous.

Their initial meeting went well.

...their initial meeting went awesome.

Eros was suave, calm, and had a manner that put Victor at his ease. They met in private, at the Lover's Embrace Escort Service offices, and they discussed a contractual relationship, limits and kinks and what Victor was looking for, and by the conclusion they had an agreement. They'd have their first meeting in a week. Victor gave Eros a stipend to obtain toys for their use, Eros would plan a BDSM scene that met Victor's desires, and afterwards they'd discuss how things went. It was all very professional and formal and explicit, and Victor appreciated that. He control of his desire, for the first time in his life.

The scene went *amazing.*

Eros arrived, calm and in control with an easy smile. They agreed to do the first scene at Victor's apartment. Victor answered the door, Eros waited until he confirmed that Victor was ready, and then Eros collared him and stripped him garment by garment. When Victor was naked, Eros ordered him to his hands and knees, slipped a plug with a dog tail into his ass, and from that point on Victor was a dog. He romped around the apartment, played fetch, obeyed Eros' canine appropriate commands, ate expertly prepared meat from a bowl and lapped up water from another, and kept silent save for yips and whines and whimpers. Despite the plug, it wasn't sexual. Ultimately, Victor wanted that, but he wasnt ready with a stranger. Mostly...he wanted to find a good owner...wanted to explore and experiment...and Eros was...Eros was perfect. Strict enough for Victor to feel there were rules, completely on board with Victor's change in identity, supportive, almost...almost *loving.* they ended the night with Victor curled contentedly on the couch, watching the program Eros had selected, Eros petting his side and telling him what a good boy he'd been.

Best. Night. Ever.

Victor thought Eros enjoyed it too, because his apparently jam packed schedule suddenly had enough openings for Victor. And Victor didn't think Eros had lied about his schedule - he was damn good at reading people - but rather that Eros genuinely wanted to make room for Victor.

Victor really had been a good boy, and hed found a partner- granted one he paid - he enjoyed being a good master.

They met twice a week after that, and Victor eventually learned that Eros sacrificed his two nights off for the privilege.

Their time together was *fantastic* and Victor only wished they had more. If Eros had more availability Victor would have bankrupted himself to afford every possible minute. His job was so high pressure, so much rode on his shoulders, but when he was with Eros life was easy. He didn't have to worry. He didn't have to think. All he had to do was be a good boy, or face the consequences. And even when there were consequences, he didn't mind. He spent two hours in a kennel once, and another time got cuffed on the chin, for misbehaving. Eros never broke from behaving as if Victor truly was a dog except when their scenes were over, but when Victor's collar was on? The fiction was reality. While they avoided public scenes, Eros also had many ideas for things they could do - he built an agility course in a room at the escort service HQ, they played fetch, Eros baked cookies or made fancy meals, they did baths and grooming, all the things a pampered pet might expect, Eros did for Victor.

Plus, there was sex. It took time for the trust to build up, longer than Victor really wanted if he was honest, but the delay was worth it given the eventual pay off, because when they finally did have sex a couple months after they started doing scenes, it was fucking *unbelievable,* the better for the rapport they'd developed. Eros pet him and coddled him and slid out the tailed butt plug and gently eased his cock in instead and Victor whimpered and whined and shook he wanted Eros so badly. After that, sex became a standard part of the package; sometimes Eros filled him, sometimes Eros knelt and let Victor take him roughly, clawing and biting, and sometimes Eros produced toys - Victor's favorite had an inflatable knot to simulate a canine penis and a tube to inject fake come.

After every scene they had a chat, and while theoretically these talks were to decompress, reflect on what had worked, and adjust their behavior for future scenes, they grew increasingly personal and long as they worked out their issues and learned each other better.

About three months after Victor started hiring Eros, someone asked him out.

He said no.

It happened a second time, a third time, and even his friends started to notice he'd been single a long time and didn't seem to mind. He couldn't tell them the truth.

He had everything he wanted with Eros.

He had *everything* he wanted with Eros.

Fuck if Victor wasn't kind of head over heels for the guy. And despite all the warnings in his head that he shouldn't read too much into Eros' behavior - Eros was in a customer service industry after all, and acting like he was really into their relationship was a solid business proposition - Victor increasingly thought Eros was into him, too. They texted each other randomly through out the day. When Eros' Saturday regular canceled, Eros immediately offered the day to Victor, without increasing his rates. He added Friday nights, too, coming after another client so that he could spend the night with Victor, and Victor had never slept better than when he was naked and collared with Eros' arm around him. Victor couldn't conceive that Eros did all those things for all his clients.

But he was just uncertain enough that he said nothing.

He was working his regular work shift almost a year after he met Eros when a hunched-shouldered young Asian man wearing thick glasses and an overside coat slumped into his office. The man introduced himself as Katsuki Yuri and was agonizingly shy, hardly looking at Victor and blushing like mad on the rare occasions their eyes met. Still, the bashful boy had managed to save up half a million dollars somehow and Victor was happy to have the account. They discussed strategies, signed some paperwork, and finally at the end of the meeting shook hands.

There were four claw marks on Yuri's hand. Identical to ones Victor had inflicted on Eros nights before. Heart thudding, he looked at Yuri's face, really looked instead of keeping distance to help set the man at ease, and Yuri went red to the roots of his hair and jerked his hand away.

"I didn't know it'd be you," he mumbled.

Victor's flawless dom...shy, embarrassed, submissive even, looking like he wanted nothing more than to run away...

"Wanna get dinner sometime?" Victor blurted.

Yuri blinked.

" and me? Not on the clock? If you want?"

The few seconds of awkward silence that followed were endless and had Victor convinced he'd blown anything, but Yuri...*Eros*...broke into a smile, opened his eyes wide, fully looked at Victor for the first time since he arrived, and nodded.

Victor was extremely proud of himself for not adding, "and by the way I love you." At that moment.

Nope, he made it all the way to the end of their date before he broke and spilled that nugget.

And it was worth it, for Yuri went home with him, and spent the night, just the two of them, Yuri and Victor instead of Eros and Vicchan.

Yuri kept working as an escort - it paid ridiculously well, and Yuri loved his job- but he never charged Victor again, and when Victor got home and he just needed to relax, he could always count on Yuri to give him exactly what he needed.

Chapter Text

Cas hates his job at the local gas station/convenience store. Literally the only advantage the Gas N Sip has over any other place in the universe where he might work is thay it's the only damn place that would hire him. His overnight shifts are boring, the people who come are assholes, and if he didn't have to submit to the bullshit that is capitalism he'd have quit.

Then he meets Andy.

Andy also thinks the Gas N Sip is lame.

Andy also hates capitalism.

Andy is utterly willing to sell Cas a dime bag cheap.

It turns out his job is way more tolerable when he's high as a kite, the snacks are great for the munchies, and he doesn't care about the assholes. With Andy's help, Cas never goes through a shift weedless. Over time they get to be friends, and Andy proves to be a great buddy with more entrepreneurial spirit than his "fuck the man" attitude suggested.

Which is how Cas ends up the so called franchisee on the pot business, selling to the jerks who come in at 3 am.

Everything goes great until the Gas N Sip gets a new manager. Nora was sweet, clueless, trusted Cas for no obvious reason, and never checked in on the night shift. Meg is much more hands on. And infinitely less oblivious. So when she shows up to the night shift to observe she realizes he's high in about 4 seconds flat and that he's selling within the hour.

So much for his coping mechanism and his lucrative side job.

Except instead of firing him or telling him he has to stop, she calls him to his office and makes him an offer.

Sleep with her and she'll over look the infraction.

Meg is: smart, gorgeous, smells nice, doing okay financially, gorgeous, ambitious, gorgeous...

Cas would have slept with her for free if she'd just asked. That he gets to keep up his habit and both jobs is just icing.

...long story short Meg ends up regional director and Cas ends up her personal assistant and while he doesn't do nearly as many drugs himself after that he does continue to sell and bonus Meg comes to fully understand that she's giving Cas exactly what he wants when she bends him over her desk, pegs him to within an inch of his life, and makes him beg to come.

(And usually doesn't let him come.)

He's not bored anymore.

And fuck yeah Meg is *so* hands on.

Chapter Text

It's Sam's clever idea that he and Dean rent one of those mall kiosk things for the holiday season. They were just there to buy the fancy pants Body Shop shit they couldn't afford that Sam *needed* for his hair and there was an empty kiosk and a sign about OPPORTUNITY! Dean had joked for ages about using their mother's recipes to do a bakery thing, but he'd only been kidding.

Fucking Sam and his fucking hair could convince Dean of fucking anything.

(Okay, okay, the bitch had been right Dean hadn't been kidding he'd just been terrified because what if he made the investment and then it all went south?)

So they rented space from a commercial kitchen and got all their food safety certifications and bought a fancy color printer and hired an artist to make them a logos and faster than Dean would have thought possible they were running DS Confections and doing a pretty lucrative sale. Heck preorders for Thanksgiving alone pay their rent for the year. Dean is finally able to get Sam some of the things his brother deserves, and to get himself some of the lacy underwear he's always eyed and could never afford (indirectly also a gift for Sam...).  Wonder of wonders Victoria's Secret in the mall carries his size.

There's only one thing going wrong. Which, really, is a miracle considering the Winchester track record, but doesn't change how fricken annoying it is.

The Goddamn Novak brothers.

See the mall had erected six seasonal kiosks around their central court, selling kitchy gifts, ornaments, all the usual junk. The Novaks are running a calendar kiosk which, as far as Dean can tell, is about as interesting as watching paint dry. Which means that one or the other of them is usually wandering around just looking for trouble. At first Dean didn't even realize they were twin, since they were identical down to the last sweep of hair and wore the same damn uniform for work, but he learned better the first time the two confronted him, both grinning, as he emerged from Victoria's Secret with his latest purchase.

"Whatcha got there Winchester?"

"Panties. For my girlfriend."

"Panties. For his girlfriend."

And dammit if Dean had just let it go it'd never have been an issue but they got a rise out of him (in more ways than one and damn does Sam get catty when he's jealous) and from that moment on Dean gets no peace. He doesn't want to tell Sam how they're harassing him. again, catty when jealous. They tease him. They tug at his pants. They buy boxes of cookies and eat them as sensually as possible. They buy him the Sexy Fire Fighters calendar. On flirt, relentlessly, and Dean wishes they'd stop and really hopes they don't stop and doesn't know what to do. His nerves  (and libido) ratchet up and up. Sam notices, of course Sam notices, and at first thinks it's just the stress of running the business. He plies Dean with weed to calm him down, pets him and cuddles him through the night, treats him tender and soft in the way Dean loves and can never ever ask for. Dean remains frantic, the Novaks keep on his case, and nothing helps.

When they've survived the Thanksgiving madness and Dean is still a wreck, Sam knows something is up.

Sam confronts him and Dean confesses both the harassment and the attraction.

Its really fucking hot when Sam's possessive, when Sam throws him around and marks him up.

Its really fucking hot when Sam drags Dean to the mall after hours with the goal of confronting the brothers...who they find, both high, making out behind the curtain that locks their kiosk at night.

Turns out the Novaks are Sam's dealer for his pot.

Turns out the Winchesters aren't the only our of incestuous brothers working at the mall.

Turns out Dean isn't the only one who has been having inappropriate thoughts.

Turns out that the Novaks are much more imaginative than Dean dreamed of.

When he makes it to the bakery the next morning he's achy, bruised, and more satisfied than he's ever been in his life.

And he's even more satisfied when he learns that Sam, Jimmy and Cas all agree with him  and agree that the only *real* sin would be to stop after only a single night together.

Dean treats himself to a whole *outfit* at Victoria's Secret, over a hundred bucks for a bra, panties, and flimsy negligee.

He can't *wait* for the other three to ruin him, and the clothes.

Chapter Text

Clint is an idiot. He knows it. His adopted family knows it. His foster families know it. His teachers know it. Heck, every time he switched schools the new teachers figure it out, like, instantly. So here he is, he’s 17, he’s a fricken freshman in high school, he’s probably going to have to switch schools again when he gets sent to yet another new family, and he can’t muster the energy to give a shit.

His current foster parents seem to have a simple philosophy, one that Clint can appreciate. Teenagers can take care of themselves. Teenagers still bring in money from CPS. Take in as many teenagers as the authorities will allow, give them minimal tools for self sufficiency, and otherwise ignore them. As far as homes go, it’s one of Clint’s favorites so far, and he’s seen loads over the years. Still, it promises to be short lived. Even here, he’s getting shit. Even here, the teachers and pseudo parents are side-eying him, calling him carnie, calling him gypsy, calling him unnecessarily expensive and extra effort because of his implants and god fucking forbid they learn a few words of sign language. Best foster home he’s ever been in…and they wanted him gone from the instant he stepped through the door.

He’s not just an idiot. He’s a lost cause.

If only fucking Steve Rogers and Clint’s other new, temporary foster siblings would see that.

Steve snags Clint after school every day and tutors him - pointless, since Clint is hopeless, but fuck if Steve isn’t the most tenacious fucker Clint has ever met.

Nat plops down beside him on the couch, talks at him, realizes his implants must be off when he doesn’t reply, grabs his shoulder, turns him toward her, and explains in flawless sign language that he’s not getting off *that* easy.

Bucky - who Clint is shocked to learn isn’t Steve’s actual brother, the two are so close - steps in when the school bullies decide to have a go at the deaf new kid. Bucky nearly gets expelled for his trouble, but of course Clint is the one who ends up getting yelled at by their not-parents and summoned to the principals office and sentenced to detention.

Sam breaks him out of detention.

Bruce stands at his shoulder, arms crossed, looking utterly unintimidating, but the bullies must know something Clint doesn’t cause they never fuck with him again.

Tony frowns at his implants, insists their must be a better way to science Clint’s problem, disappears into one of the schools labs for a week and emerges with what he claims is new technology. Clint let’s him use it. He can’t be worse fucked than he already is, right? And fuck if Tony isn’t right and his changes actually are improvements and Clint can make it through the school day without pounding headaches.

And slowly, day by day, Clint realizes…these other kids don’t think he’s a lost cause. They hardly know him, but they seem to care for him. That’s fucked up, weird, scary even.

Scarier still?

Clint likes them in return.

A lot.

So when Steve gathers everyone together - somehow the scrawny 16 year old with wheezing asthma is the group’s de facto leader, which is the only thing weirder than the bullies deferring to science nerd Bruce - and announces that they’re gonna get Clint his GED before his 18th birthday, some six months hence, Clint actually *believes* him for a hot minute.

And then remembers he’s Clint Barton.

And he’s a lost cause.

And he slinks into the musty closet in the basement he calls home and locks the door and turns off his implants so he can’t hear a fucking thing.

He learns a lot about his foster brothers and sisters that night.

Nat can pick locks.

Bruce is fucking terrifying when he’s angry.

Tony designed a Goddamn remote control that can turn Clint’s implants back on (and they’re gonna have a talk about that because seriously Not Okay).

Sam is so acrobatic that he can fit through Clint’s tiny fricken window and maybe he shoulda been in the damn circus instead of Clint.

Bucky has a gorgeous smile.

And Steve…tiny punk ass Steve…never. gives. up. on. anyone.

They don’t even all fit in his room but they crowd around him, block the door, and they *talk.*

“What do you need us to do to keep you motivated? How can we help?”

And Clint, in desperate search for self defense, points at Steve. “Kisses work well.”

And the son of a bitch does it.

And it’s a damn good kiss.

And Steve is clearly into it.

And the others all watch coolly.

“Nope not enough,” says Clint. He points at Bucky. “Him too.”

And Bucky is *also* game. And also into it. And also a damn good kisser. And afterwards shoots Steve a look, and gets one in return, that makes their relationship clear and Clint can only marvel that he never noticed before.

“Still not enough.”

Clint collects a kiss from every foster sibling.

And they’re all into it.

Seriously what the fuck does Clint have to do to convince these morons he’s too stupid to succeed?

“I’ll make you a deal,” says Steve serenely. “You keep doing your damn homework and studying and going to school, and the kisses keep coming.”

Of all the insane, unfair, ridiculous approaches…Clint was already a douche bag for forcing them all to kiss him the first time and he castigates himself and glares around and wishes they’d leave him the fuck alone and abandon him like everyone else has always always abandoned him and they’re *all* smiling at him serenely and Nat’s holding hands with Sam and Bucky and Steve are side eyeing each other and Tony and Bruce keep bumping shoulders and holy hell this isn’t about one couple it’s about one big foster sibling cuddle pile and they must have talked about this shit and they’re all looking at Clint like he’s…like he’s *welcome.* like he’s worth something.

Like they want him.

And Clint knows, *knows* he should tell them to get fucked before it blows up in his face. But his heart aches and it’s all he can do not to cry and aside from the recent kisses he cannot remember the last time someone touched him kindly and gently and he yearns for the acceptance that they’re looks promise and he knows it’ll all go wrong but even if he gets just a few weeks…

“Its gonna take way more than kisses to motivate my pathetic ass,” he says gruffly.

“That can be arranged,” says Bucky with a grin.

“And don’t you ever talk about yourself that way again,” Steve adds angrily. “You are NOT pathetic.”

Bruce shoves Tony into the room, Sam and Nat climb onto the bed, Tony locks them all in, and it turns out that if they all snuggle close enough they *can* all fit in Clint’s room.

Despite all his fears, Clint can’t deny - it’s the best night of his life, easily, hands down, bar none. They talk and Nat signs and they exchange soft tender touches and no matter what he says or does, they *stay.*

When he finally comes he’s not even sure who’s hand is on his dick, his mouth is against his, who is cradling his body from behind - though he is positive it’s three different people, and that the breath he feels on his ear as someone murmurs kindnesses he can’t hear belongs to Steve.

Hell, if this can be Clint’s life for the next few months, he’ll try. He’ll try so damn hard. He’ll get his damn GED and stay out of trouble and be the best foster kid he can be as long as he can.

He doesn’t want the night to end.

And by mornings light, as he sees his…his *family*…tangled on his bed in peaceful sleep?

He can’t help but smile.

They’ve made him want to try.

Well, that was one way to solve his problems…

Chapter Text

Bitty loves his job. When he realized he’d never have the attention span to run his own bakery, he was depressed at first, but his alternative solution proved in better: food critic. He gets to see the world, travel, and eat so. much. delicious. food. He also gets to learn recipes from all over. He writes travel guides, and cook books, and keeps a blog and a vlog and an instagram, and of course he writes his reviews, which are syndicated in multiple major news sources.

There’s only one problem.

Bitty is *not* a good sleeper. Every new bed is a challenge. He’s self-employed, technically, and so his hotel selection is up to him. He treats himself decently - he doesn’t splurge on the fanciest of the fancy, but he has the money to stay in nice places so he does. It doesn’t matter. Whether he’s on a flat, bare palet or the cushiest mattress in the universe, he struggles to sleep. It’s not about the bed - it’s about being away from home. It takes him two to three nights to get used to any given place, and he usually doesn’t get that long.

It’s a fucking drag, and Bitty often catches up on his sleep while he’s on planes. They’re no more comfortable and no more like home, but if he pops a benadryl sometimes he can pass out for a few hours. Downside, then he can’t write on the plane. There’s kind of no winning. Still, aside from the exhaustion, Bitty is in seventh heaven. He’s successful, well known, and happy.

And maybe a little lonely.

But less so than he’d have expected all things considered. The world is an enormous place, and that would seem to preclude coincidences, but it turns out the number of people who travel all over regularly is relatively small and Bitty runs into the same people surprisingly often. Whether they’re sharing a plane, or in the airport at the same time, or crossing paths on public transit, or running into each other in hotel lobbies, Bitty has accumulated several hundred fellow travelers with whom he’s got nodding/waving acquaintance with, and a few dozen that he knows well, has talked to, knows their names, exchanged Facebook account information…

There’s Lardo. She’s an artist, and she travels for gallery shows, to do research, and just because she likes to travel.

There’s a guy who only goes by Shitty. He’s a human rights lawyer, and his work takes him all over.

There’s Kent, who is an athlete of some kind, but Bitty doesn’t want to know the details cause Kent always flirts with him, but, like, in the creepy way.

There’s Dex and Nursey, who are best friends (and maybe more?) who seem to have the money to do whatever they want, and travel just for fun.

There’s Holster and Random - who are *definitely* more than best friends - who do celebrity destination weddings.

The list goes on, and they all have only one thing in common - that they all travel all over.

No, wait. They all have two things in common - they all talk about “Jack.” Jack is apparently another traveler. One they’ve all met. One they cannot fricken *believe* that Bitty has never met. But that’s the thing about coincidence, right? It can go both ways - to ensure that two people cross paths for no obvious reason, and also that two people never cross paths, also for no obvious reason.

One night stands are a good cure both for Bitty’s insomnia and his loneliness, and so he often picks people up at the bars of the places he reviews or at local clubs or even occasionally in hotel lobbies. He’s visiting Tokyo, on the lookout for the hottest equivalent of Ken Watanabe he can find, when to his surprise he instead finds a super gorgeous white guy - tall, buff, great ass…they don’t exchange names but they do exchange drinks, then room keys, then bodily fluids. Considering they’re both kind of tipsy, they have a great time, and the sex is surprisingly sweet and tender, and Bitty really likes the guy.

Who leaves in middle of the night.

Without giving Bitty his name or number.

Isn’t that just the way of it.

But it’s not until he runs into Shitty randomly in the lobby that he learns the truth.

“Oh wow, two in one day!”

Baffled, Bitty asks Shitty to explain himself.

“I don’t usually encounter two friends in one hotel lobby, that’s a new record for me. Jack was here too!”

And Shitty produces a picture of Jack.

And it’s Bitty’s one night stand.

So Jack is a Canadian diplomat, Shitty explains, adding conspiratorially that, given the places he’s encountered Jack, he thinks he *might* be CSIS, Canadian Intelligent.

And he’s gone.

And Bitty really, really wants to see him again.

Shitty gets that idea quick and promises to pass the word, and so begins the strangest game of cat and mouse ever, because it turns out Jack also wants to see Bitty again, and with Shitty’s help they exchange online contact info, but they both have commitments the world over and trying to steal a few minutes together proves difficult. Still, long distance, they start their relationship over right. They bond. They even fall in love.

And, finally, Bitty modifies his schedule to coincide with Jack (cough cough definitely not a CSIS agent nope no way why would he be that), and he never has to sleep in a lonely, uncomfortable hotel bed by himself again. Turns out all he needs for any strange bed to feel like “home” is Jack’s heartbeat thrumming in his ear.

Chapter Text

Since the octopus people emerged from the ocean depths and started trying to integrate in human society, they've met with more success in some fields than others. They do well behind the scenes, multitasking, typing, working machinery. Tasks that once required three humans can be done by one octoperson, which doesn't make them popular with certain social classes. Further, the general consensus is that they look "weird," and thus they've done poorly in every field that involves a public presence. Humans, conventional wisdom goes, won't want to watch an octoperson perform no matter how adept they are, because they are an octoperson.

Bucky agrees.

As an agent, he's not in the biz to be a humanitarian. He's in the biz to make money. His childhood he was poor and it sucked and now he's not poor and his family isn't either and he's not going to screw that up by taking unnecessary risks. He represents several very successful performers and is always on the look out - or rather with an ear open - for the next big thing.

He arrives at a club in Miami on a scouting mission. He's heard about a group down here, four gorgeous women who have amazing voices,, can play their instruments, and actually write damn good music. When he arrives at the show and hears a guitar being played by a pro, the stage completely blocked from his view, he assumes it's them, and it's not until the vocals start and it turns out to be a young male voice, a little husky, a little gruff, does he realize his mistake.

The performer is really fucking good. The audience is super into it. Even if the girl band proves a bust, Bucky thinks he can make a go of the guitar player - find a drummer and a bassist to go with him, ideally with some sex appeal, and go from there.

He approaches the club owner and gets himself a VIP chair, curious to get a look at the prospect.

And it's a Goddamn half octopus, with a youthful, scrawny human top half and eight limbs ringed patriotic red, white, and blue.

Doing things with a guitar that no human ever possibly could. The small dude and his two hands and eight tentacles has invented a brand new way to play the guitar.

Holy shit.

But it didn't matter. Bucky wasn't interested in an act that wouldn't make him money.

Even if it was literally the best one man act he'd seen his entire career.

The ladies were the headliners and they were excellent, their lead singer sporting the clunky name Natasha Romanov, her backup singer named Wanda, the whole lot needed an image overhall, but they were worth it. Bucky returned to the office intent on making them an offer, already considering which labels might be interested.

He also returned with a name, Steve Rogers, that he absolutely didn't intend to use. Definitely not.

Natasha and her crew were thrilled with their offer, but said they had to talk it over...and came back with a condition.

How fricken dare they give him *conditions.* He almost hung up without hearing them out. But then it turned out to not be a big at all...

...and simultaneously to be a *huge* deal.

Sign Steve too.

They wanted to know if they'd heard Steve. When he acknowledged he had, they dragged from him the concession that he thought Steve was great. Their cold tones marked their disapproval of his stance that Steve was a charity case who'd never succeed. He promised, honestly, to make Nat's band go double platinum but they were unswayed.

In fact they'd passed on no less than a dozen previous offers because they wouldn't take Steve.

"At least meet him," Sharon the drummer suggested.

And against his better judgment, Bucky agreed.

Steve was...great. smart, friendly, open, sweet, with unswerving ethics and a keen understanding of the challenges he faced. Miami, being on tropical waters, was relatively welcoming to half octopi but he'd still dealt with a lot of hate. When Bucky suggested he return to his own people, he dismissed the idea with a shake of his head.

"Homophobia," he explained. "Virulent. Can't go back, they'll kill me."

The poor SOB had no place to call home.

Bucky signed the bastard.

The ladies joined on hours later.

Selling them to a label was simplicity, and Bucky had them in a recording studio in a matter of days. Steve was more problematic. Bucky thought keeping his identity a secret would help but no dice, concerts and TV appearances were too important for marketing. A performer who couldn't show his face was worthless. Natasha and the others grew increasingly pissed, thinking Bucky was reneging on his part of the bargain, but he wasnt he truly wasn't. Fuck, he wasn't even just doing the bare minimum, the old college try.

He had never picked up a failing act. That's all. It's reflect badly on him if Steve didn't succeed.

Yet Steve took every reverse with steady, resigned good humor. He stood up for himself, he fought when he had to, but he didn't give Bucky have the shit his more primadonna clients did. Desperate, Bucky sounded out TV shows to see if any producers would give them a shot - even suggested that Nat wouldn't go on if Steve didn't - but denying access to Nat's band would only sink both careers.

And Bucky had to admit eventually, he really really wanted to see Steve succeed.

He really really liked Steve.

Like, really.

In the end it's Steve who decides to pull the plug. He shows up in Bucky's office all "it's okay, I know you tried, I'll make sure my friends don't ditch you" and somehow Bucky finds himself in the weird position of trying to convince Steve to stick it out and keep trying. The whole conversation is a cluster fuck and Steve is actually get frustrated and in annoyance he demands

"Why do you care so damn much?"

"Because I love you, you fricken moron."

Aaaaand Bucky is screwed. Way to come out as a tentacle loving freak. Steve is definitely going to leave now.

Except he doesn't.

Except Steve feels the same.

Except Steve's feelings, which he believed unreciprocated, were part of why he wanted to leave.

They don't talk about music any more that night.

They do talk about the logistics of two holes and 8 tentacles and a good number of potential combinations.

They even start experimenting.

And then more than experimenting.

And then cohabitating.

And Bucky decides...screw it, he has the  money, the knowledge, the contacts...he'll produce Steve's first album himself. With public appearances. Its a big risk...

...and it works.

Oh, they get plenty of hate, but there's a growing niche market, and they start there, and Steve is so damn good that his success only grows. They have to keep their relationship a secret, but it's worth it.

As far as Bucky is concerned, Steve is worth any sacrifice.

Chapter Text

Yuri on Ice!


The Valley of Kings is famous. Neutral ground, owned by the gods, it is the only place in the world where everyone is welcome and no one may fight. The Valley is small, and who is welcome there is carefully regulated. There are temples with their attendant staff, and a few unusual people who have been granted sanctuary (many criminals ask but few are permitted to stay). Most kingdoms maintain small diplomatic missions, generally staffed by one or two envoys, and some trade organizations and other cross-kingdom conglomerates have also offices there. It sounds like a lot but all told it's only a few hundred people, occupying maybe a square mile tucked in the deep juncture where three long mountain ranges come together. When a king is to be crowned, he or she or they may come to the border with their entourage, but they must enter and face the gods alone. By ritual and tradition, none may interfere, no harm may be done within the Valley, and no one may question the gods decision, whether it be yea or nay. An elite guard, believed by many to be inhuman, ensure that the rules are followed.

Oh, and there's Yuri.

Yuri is the janitor.

Yep, just him, to sweep and weed and dust and do laundry and maintain the entire enclave. It's a damn thankless job, but someone has to do it, and he's happy. He wants for nothing, his food and clothing and rooms and belongings provided by the alms of the visitors and the grace of the deities. He loves the seclusion, loves being practically invisible, loves the spectacle of new people arriving. Aside from royalty, there's a constant flow of pilgrims despite their isolated, inhospitable location. Yuri is good at his job, diligent in his obeisance to the gods, and devoted to his duties. He has one friend, Phichit, who is the chef for the entire group. Between them they do the majority of the day-to-day essential tasks that keep the Valley clean and content.

The arrival of the Russian Prince Victor is similar to that of all the royalty. He came in state, with his servants and soldiers and riches, dressed in the most sumptuous of robes, bearing offerings of precious metals bedecked with gemstones. Yuri watched him go by as he tended to repainting a temple patio, but their was nothing remarkable in plenty and handsomeness and he paid it little mind.

The noise on the border did draw his attention.

In the ravine that led to the eastern valley edge, there was a battle happening- no, a massacre. Horrified, Yuri watched as a corpse fell over the line into the Valley and the man responsible for that death was struck down by the gods, but the others did murder unchecked until not one remained alive of those who had accompanied Prince Victor. If the Prince emerged anointed King, he'd be killed.

It wasn't for men to undo in minutes what the gods had decreed.

Yuri would warn the Prince.

Which is how Yuri ended up accidentally interrupting Victor's audience with the gods.

Which is how Yuri ended up being named king of Russia.

Victor was nonplussed, Yuri was beyond shocked, and they both agreed - no one would ever believe this had happened, even though Yuri had the god mark to name him true. Further, the political situation in Russia was, obviously, a disaster - those following young Yuri Plisetsky willing to do anything to place the throne in the hands of Victor's young cousin. Yuri didn't sanction such crimes but events outpaced them both and war was imminent.

And Yuri, the damn janitor, was in the middle of it.

A lot more could be said - about how they sneak out of the Valley together to dodge the assassins, how they're hounded everywhere they go, how Victor trains Yuri in statesmanship, how Victor flirts with him relentlessly, figuring if he can't be King he can still be Queen, how Yuri continually feels out of his depth, how Yuri doesn't trust Victor and knows his overtures of affection to be self serving... Yuri is actually a remarkable leader and Victor grows ever more impressed... Yuri wishes he could believe Victor's flirting overtures, wishes Victor actually cared for him instead of seeing Yuri as a piece on a political chess boars... Victor actually falls in love with Yuri and has no idea how to broach the subject because he knows his earlier flirting expended Yuri's goodwill in that regard... they seek out Yuri Plisetsky for a private meeting, Yuri takes one look at them, realizes they're morons pining for each other, and makes their wedding one of many conditions for forging a lasting peace... they each reluctantly agree, further convincing the other that their affections aren't returned...

...its a depressingly long time before they finally sort through their miscommunication and realize what they've been missing out on all along, but they get there in the end.

And they make an excellent King and queen. (Yuri P is satisfied to be next in line for the throne...provided the gods at the Valley of Kings smile on him...)

Chapter Text

Clothing has always been Steve's life, designing his dream, and somehow that dream has become a reality. Bucky says it's because Steve is a talented SOB, hard working, personable, good at business - a full package. Steve says he got lucky.

To some extent they're both right.

But fuck does Steve hate when Bucky - gorgeous, brilliant, loyal, straight-as-a-rail Bucky - says nice things about him.

Better not to think about it.

Steve works out of a studio about the size of a closet in the fashion district in Manhattan. He lives there too, sleeping on a cot that he stores in the closet during the day. That he can afford the rent, afford to eat, and still have a little left for fun is a sign of his success. Most of his former classmates aren't doing half so well, those that haven't given up and moved on to careers that actually pay. He's got hopes of having a line for fashion week in the next year or two, and his current job is critical to that.

Peggy Carter.

Met Gala.

Red carpet.

If that ain't the big time, Steve doesn't know what is.

Bucky is falling all over himself to meet the singer-actress. Steve fears it's an imposition, but during her initial consult, he mentions it, and she's agree. She's sweet and friendly, no airs, and she pulls out a hundred thou string of diamonds that she plans to wear like they're nothing. God damn Steve can't imagine having that much money. The theme for the Gala is The Hermitage, and she has a vague idea about crowns and tsarinas and about 30 damn pounds of velvet.

It's a bit costumey, but sumptuous and over the top is what Steve does. There's a damn good reason half his regulars are drag queens (and it's not just that he's thrown down a mean lip sync while wearing stilettos a time or two himself).

So Steve gets to work.

By her second consult he has the drawing she's approved and a dummy version made in muslin for her to try on. Bucky is at his shoulder, completely starstruck. From what he sees of Peggy's return looks, she's favorably impressed too. Why wouldn't she be? It's *Bucky.*

It'd be just Steve's luck if his bff/unrequited crush ended up dating his client...

..sure enough...'s just his luck that Bucky and Peggy end up fricken dating.

So now Bucky is there every consult, and he talks about her whenever they hang out, and Steve gets dragged along as a third wheel. It's fun in a way, and it's a fantastic networking opportunity. It's impossible to be bitter when accompanying them is fricken *making* his career.


Steve is so bitter.

Because Bucky is *Bucky*.

And Peggy is pretty damn awesome too.

But at the end of the day...Steve is just Steve. He's a little wheezy and a little knobby at the knees and elbows and he cleans up okay at least until he has an asthma attack and even if he was a total catch Bucky would still be straight and Peggy and Bucky would still be dating each other and seriously fuck his life.

The surge in commissions actually does help. At least he has some spending money and less stress about making rent.

The dress takes him some time, but finally it's done, and it's Gala night, and Bucky is Peggy's plus one and holy hell he's hot in a suit and Steve can't help wallowing, just a little, okay a lot, and he drinks too much and watches the red carpet and when it ends he just sits there as some other show plays, then the news, then the infomercials. And he just. Sits.

It's about 2 am when there's a knock his door - Peggy's driver returning the dress - and he opens it and...

...not the driver...

...Peggy. She takes one look at him and turns up her nose. "Never seen you drunk, Rogers. It doesn't suit you."

"No, of course not, not like a suit on Bucky." He laughs sardonically at his terrible joke.

Peggy isn't laughing.

She's staring at him assessingly.

"Steve, are you jealous?"

"Why would I be jealous? It's stupid. Not like I had a prayer anyway."

"If you'd have asked I'd have said yes."

That's a surprise, and disappointing, but... "not you. Bucky."

Peggy goggles at him, splutters, and bursts into laughter.

"If you're going to be a bitch about it just leave!"

" absolute *idiot.*"

So it turns out that Bucky is hung up on Steve as bad as Steve is on him? Turns out Bucky has talked to his girlfriend? About Steve? Turns out Peggy got it in her head the Steve was the reason Bucky and Steve weren't together? By the time they finish talking Steve has sobered up and Peggy will not hear talk of him staying him alone. She grabs his arm and drags him to the car, where a confused Bucky has been waiting for them the whole time, and she explains the situation over Steve's protests and despite Bucky's increadingly incredulous expression.

Steve and Bucky make out on the backseat the whole drive back to Peggy's apartment while she smiles approvingly.

She doesn't join in til they're at her place.

Best. Night. Ever.

Next Met Gala? Steve is Peggy's plus one.

He and Bucky take turns.

The public is so, so confused

Chapter Text

How Bucky ends up one of the only non-Russian members of the organized crime syndicate he’s part of is a long and convoluted story not worth relating because it boils down to: 1. He was Jewish and 2. He was bilingual and spoke Russian. It’s not a bad job. He’s a mid level boss with roots as an enforcer, and he makes decent money, and he’s never had to kill anyone or have anyone killed, and he sticks just close enough to the letter of the law that he’d be damn hard to bust if the FBI came for him.

Everything is going great until his superiors make a deal with the Irish mob and before Bucky can say “pierozki” he and a half dozen of his best men are in a meeting with a hot beefy blond dude and his entourage. There’s a translator along because none of Bucky’s guys speak good English. Beefy dude takes on look at the translator and says,

“You gotta be kidding me, I’m supposed to think the Russians are taking this seriously when they didn’t even bother sending anyone who speaks English?”

A retort springs to Bucky’s lips but then he thinks better of it. Because this? This is *opportunity.*

And so he lets the guy, whose name turns out to be Rogers, think Bucky doesn’t understand him. He waits for translation. He eavesdrops on everything. And he keeps at it as the deal progresses, as they parcel up territory, as they work together to force out an encroaching third gang, on and on.

Rogers is kinda a huge asshole.

Bucky wants to fuck his brains out.

He’s pretty sure the feeling is mutual, judging by Rogers’ flirting and heated looks.

He’s pretty sure that when the time comes - if the time comes - to fight it out, Bucky will come out on top in every sense of the word.

They’re in the thick of a job at an illegal casino when the guns come out and the bullets start flying. Rogers might be an asshole but Bucky doesn’t want him dead, and he shouts a warning – in English – before his charade crosses his mind. Rogers reacts as necessary, they both survive the day, and Bucky hopes his transgression goes unnoticed.

He hoped wrong.

“Why didn’t you tell me you speak English?” Rogers demands when the adrenaline has worn off and they’ve debriefed their respective organizations.

Bucky shrugs. “You are like little baby,” he says in a heavy, faux Russian accent. He waves a hand as if trying to think of a word. “You know…stupid.”

He doesn’t know if Rogers will buy the whole “not actually good at English” thing.

But he seems to.

Anyway, they work together a long time, flirt a lot, dance around any kind of actual intimacy, but eventually they do tumble into bed together.

Rogers is fuckin’ strong.

Bucky’ll get him next time.

But the greatest revelation during the (really damn good) sex?

Bucky can’t help but give away that he speaks English.

And Rogers can’t help but give away that he speaks Russian.

Apparently both organizations chose people perfect for the job.

Best collaboration ever.

Chapter Text

Bucky is a sailor who is shipwrecked on what he thinks is a deserted island - sandy beaches, palm trees, the whole stereotypical nine yards. However as he explores, he discovers - the leeward side of the island, where he washed up, is all black sand and shells and smooth coast, but the windward side is black volcanic cliffs, by turns craggy and sheer, and he discovers he’s not alone after all. The stone is vividly painted, inks bright beyond anything he’s seen in Europe, and absolutely gorgeous - scenes of ships asea, of the island, of people exploring, of buildings beyond his wildest fantasies (Mayan and Aztec architecture)…and underwater scenes, vivid, drawn true to life as Bucky had seen the few times he’d dived into the reefs and opened his eyes and looked until the saltwater stung so badly he had to close them again.

All he can do is stare.

He comes back every day. At first the scenes never change, but after a few weeks of observation he notices…there are new details, new paintings, new attention. Someone is painting the murals.

And Bucky is determined to find out who.

(this would be siren!Steve who, instead of song, uses art to draw his “victims”…except he’s as intrigued with the scraggy lost sailor as Bucky is with him.)

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how do we feel about either OCD or autistic Steve (the behavior pattern I envision could work with either, potentially, though I’m no expert, so apologies in advance if I accidentally say anything offensive, it’s not my intention and I would appreciate being corrected). Steve compulsively arranges things - especially anything that can be lined up - so if he’s around, say, a thing of toothpicks, given enough time he will have every single toothpick arranged in neat, parallel lines, end to end. Once he starts he can’t really stop, and he gets very upset with anyone who disrupts what he’s done while he’s working on it (he’s learned to accept that, once he’s done, someone will clean it up. That used to upset him but now he uses his cell phone to photograph his handiwork, and that’s enough for him. But before’s he done…

…he has to finish…

So Bucky is a bartender and Steve is arranging straws on the bar and Bucky doesn’t realize and he apologizes that the straws were left out and cleans them up and Steve flips. He always feels a little guilty when he gets angry - a niggling sense that he’s over reacting because he’s been told that so many times - but he can’t help it and that actually drives him kinda nuts but not so nuts as how other people respond - they inevitably do not understand and treat him poorly and that makes him feel both more guilty and more angry. If they’d just leave him alone, he’s not hurting anyone…but if he wasn’t so…weird, so broken, so off, he wouldn’t need to arrange the straws…and anyway he’s seething and ready for a fight with the bartender (and to get kicked out and probably banned from the bar) when Bucky shocks him.

Bucky apologizes.

Bucky brings the straws back.

Bucky dries the counter so that the straw wrappers don’t get wet.

Bucky stops another patron from interrupting.

Bucky helps Steve stand on one of the barstools when he’s done to get a great over-head view, lit in a mosaic by the colorful backlight of the bar’s drink selection.

Steve has a new favorite bar…

(Of course they’ll end up a couple…I think Steve’s dream has always been art but he feels he can’t do it because of how linearly he thinks, and Bucky encourages him to treat the photographs of his lined up works as art, helps him create pieces in unusual places with unusual lighting, introduces Steve to people who can help him get a gallery show - don’t get me wrong, Steve still does 90% of the legwork, this isn’t, “Steve is incapable so Bucky does it for him” but rather, Steve lacks confidence and with Bucky’s encouragement they’re both better off).

I’m sorry I love artist!Steve…

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(warning for some pronoun mix ups that I’m too tired to sort through right now, in general I tried to refer to them with female pronouns if I was specifically talking about them in drag and with male pronouns otherwise - but yeah this warning is more to make it clear *I know* how it should be but I just don’t have the spoons to do it just right…)

The drag queen pageant circuit is, in general, the domain of the thinnest, fishiest, most flawless queens in the business. Victor, working under the stage name Victoria Silver, has been a dominant force in that scene for years, and his reputation proceeds him. He’s aloof yet charismatic, everyone’s friend but no one’s confidant, reputed to have slept with nearly every other queen who’s ever dared don a tiara, and impossible to beat.

God, it’s lonely at the top. And he doesn’t even want to be a top.


Yuuri has never thought of being a pageant queen. Yes, he’s got a face that takes make up like a dream, and he cleans up into one hell of a pretty queen, but he lacks the performance and showmanship skills, the charisma and, most importantly, the appearance. He’s…well, he’s chubby. It’s a flattering chubby, one that gives a lovely bump to his waist and hips to fill out his dresses without much padding, one that gives him good thick thighs that his partners seem to appreciate, but compared to those on the surface? He must outweigh them by 50 pounds, easy. He admires them, though, studies them assiduously, especially Victoria. She’s a master of make up, and has self-published several books on the topic (all page-to-page with stunning pictures of her gorgeous face) and Yuuri has studied every secret she’s shared, practiced them until he was a pro - he shades his features to a tee - and, well, maybe he’s just stared at those pictures a time or two and let his imagination go wild and his hand stray south. Victoria is gorgeous. But a queen like her? A diva, a professional, an international name? Would never be interested in a schlub like him.

Yuuri about loses it when Yuuko enrolls him in a competition open to “locals” - one spot in the pageant is up for grabs when it next passes through, and one lucky winner from the local scene will get to compete with the best.

Yuuri does lose it when he actually fricken wins that spot.

Which is how he, in the guise of the Hasetsu hotty Onsen Onyu, ends up standing next to his idol. And all he can think is…oh god, I’ve masturbated while looking at pictures of her.

And meanwhile, Victor is eying the queen beside him, so unlike those usually on the circuit, thinking, wow, Onsen has a gorgeous flush to her cheeks under the stage lights…

Seduction comes easy to Victor, and despite her shyness, Onsen proves no harder to seduce than most people. And if Victor maybe likes her - likes Yuuri, he learns is the name of the gorgeous young man beneath the make up - more than he usually does?

Well, it doesn’t morph into more than casual interest until they’re alone, and Yuuri’s out of all his padding and is decidedly male but with lovely curves in all the right places…

…and Yuuri wants to top…

That’s when Victor is lost.

Now he just has to convince Yuuri that his fifth place showing at the pageant was actually damn good for a newbie (which isn’t a lie) and that Yuuri should absolutely try another pageant, and that Victor will coach him and show him the key to being the diva drag queen that Yuuri has always longed to be, and never believed he could be…

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that time that Castiel was a librarian and he was horrified that they were about to lose funding and so he organizes a flash mob to draw attention to their plight.

Dean is the guy he’s never seen before, enthusiastically helping the others in the mob learn the dance steps.

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When Dean comes home with one more failing math test, his mother issues an ultimate: get his grades up or suffer through a 6 PM curfew every night. 

Enter Castiel Novak, the school’s primmest, properest student, to tutor Dean in trigonometry. At least Castiel is easy on the eyes, but other than that, Dean dreads every minute they have together.

But as it turns out, Castiel is an excellent teacher. He understands that the key to learning is proper motivation. For him, good grades are their own reward. When he realizes that such is not enough for Dean, he has to get creative.

Fortunately, he’s got a lot of ideas…

(slightly underage, dom/sub undertones, Cas is not above trying bondage, humiliation, sex, praise, whatever it takes to get Dean to pass math…especially since, the longer they’re together, the more invested Castiel gets in making sure that Dean does *not* have to be home by 6 PM…)

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bottom Cas who has trouble getting off with human partners and thinks something is wrong with him so he buys an android sex toy to help him learn to be better at sex. Dean “trains” him, to Cas’ own specifications, and it turns out that Cas just needs to be over stimulated like woah before he can climax, but of course the Android can just keep going and going so Cas starts to really enjoy himself. He decides to try human partners again…

…but they still act like there’s something wrong with him…

…Dean never once acted like there was something wrong with Cas…

…what’d Cas need a human for, exactly???

And Dean is honestly elated…not that he’d ever have admitted how much free will he actually had or how little he likes seeing Cas with anyone but him…I mean, it takes a LOT to satisfy a robot but Cas…well, they’re a good match.

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Dean is doing the “earning what he can to pay for Stanford for Sam” thing and so he works like 4 jobs. Early morning he’s at his ex-girlfriend Lisa’s bakery and coffeeshop. They get along well, and have a son together. Afternoons, he works as a mechanic. Evenings, he’s a janitor. Weekends, as the work is available, he’s a stripper. So he’s running himself ragged, and meanwhile he’s got a bit of a crush on sexy accountant dude who comes to the shop every morning.

Meanwhile Cas is of course sexy accountant dude, though he’s actually the CFO of a midsize company, not an accountant. He is engaged to…someone, I hadn’t worked that part out yet…but he’s actually pretty ace and it’s more of an arranged marriage out togehter by their families. No one expects them to be in love or even make babies, it’s an alliance and that’s it. For his bachelor party, Gabriel hires strippers, because duh that’s what you do, and, of course, one of them is Dean. In the heat of the moment Cas doesn’t recognize Dean.

Dean does recognize Cas, and is simultaneously kind of embarrassed and kind of into it, though the latter wears off when it becomes clear that this whole stripper thing isn’t really Cas’ cup of tea. the next morning at the coffee shop Dean tries to avoid Cas but Lisa tells him he’s being ridiculous.

Cas recognizes him.

Cas says he very much enjoyed Dean’s performance and would like to hire him again.

And that’s how Dean ends up doing his show at his crush’s fiancee’s bachelorette party. Awkward.

Anyway that’s honestly as far as I’d gotten in the plotting but I’m sure the wedding falls apart - the bride runs off with someone else cause she wants to be happy tyvm - it’s probably Meg - and meanwhile Dean and Cas are thrown together a lot and Cas discovers he’s actually demi cause the more he gets to know Dean the more he likes him.

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So what about a twist on the classic “you only see black and white until you meet your soulmate,” so instead when you meet your soulmate you lose your sight. The idea behind this magic is that soul mates are rare and in this way they’ll rely on each other and be cared for by their people/tribes. It’s a blessing. But over time that positive view has been lost and most people go out if their way to try not to meet their soul mates cause they don’t want to go blind.
(And Cas is an angel and his people still hold the blindness as a reverent blessing and when he and Dean meet and go blind they reintroduce mankind to how this tradition was supposed to be maintained. Deans pretty upset in the short term but having a soul mate is pretty damn wonderful so he comes around in the end)

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When Dean finds a genie lamp he knows just what to do: wish for more wishes, of course.
He’s not counting on the genie Castiel being so literal, though. Or being such a contrary asshole. Or on just how badly this can backfire. Now every bit of his casual conversation is under scrutizined. Sam says, “God you’re such a little bitch” and Dean says, “you wish,” and bam he’s a dog - a female dog that has, somehow, had puppies before! - for a week before he figures out how to make wishes in dog speak. 
Yet somehow in their snarky back and forth Dean realizes…he kind of likes it…
…and when it dawns on him he could wish to have no more wishes…
…he…kinda doesn’t want to…
…cause then Cas would leave…
…and Dean definitely doesn’t wish that…
Once he realizes that he spends a lot of time exploring Cas’ boundaries, so by the time he works up the nerve to wish for Cas to kiss him, he’s absolutely sure that Cas would tell him to go fuck himself if he didn’t actually want to kiss Dean.
They work things out pretty quick after that.
But Cas never full stops fucking with him.
(They actually have some pretty good times with Dean as a female dog……….)

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Yuri on Ice fantasy AU anyone? (Twink barely legal Yuri, older Victor)
Yuri is an orphan, a street urchin, young and only alive thanks to the quickness of his wrists and how many purses he can cut. Since getting caught is basically certain death, he is damn good at what he does.
Until he gets caught.
Victor is pretty impressed with the twink boy who picks his pocket. After he scares the living crap out of the boy he says Yuri has to work off what he stole. While Yuri fears the worst from what is essentially enslavement, it turns out not that bad.
Heck it turns out amazing.
It turns out Victor is the famed Gentleman thief Ice Blade and he wants to teach Yuri everything he knows…
…and if feelings develop, well…Victor can’t act on that, can he? Yuri is so young, and his student, and some things can never be…
…even if Yuri clearly really wants them…
And then Victor gets captured and Yuri has to save him and there’s some splendid hurt comfort and of course eventually Yuri pushes Victor down and *proves* he’s not a child.

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That Shiro has lost a bunch of memories is upsetting but generally everyone has acted as if it’s mostly for the better. Like, given what horrors Shiro must have survived at the hands of the Galra, isn’t it for the best that he’s forgotten?
So no one brings it up.
Until he starts to forget other things.
“Shiro, we were supposed to meet for dinner!”
“Shiro, you said attack plan gamma, but that was attack plan beta!”
“Shiro, how can you not remember the names of your classmates?”
Shiro tries to shrug it off and he acts like everything is normal, even as the others get more worried.
Until he collapses.
Brain wave scans suggest that whatever is wrong is linked to his memory issues. Coran proposes the same technology that let them preserve Alfor in the castle could be used to actualize and project She’s memories. After a lot of arguing, Allura and Keith are selected to delve into the projected memories.
Shiro is shattered, the holes in his memory tearing him apart. Allura gets booted, and nearly killed, and it turns out to be because Shiro didn’t know her before the damage is done. So it’s left to Keith alone to try to out Shiro’s pieces back together so he won’t break, and in so doing a lot of secrets neither had shared come out…

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So Japan spent centuries isolating themselves from the outside world, and as a result their technology radically diverged from the rest of the world. When, after the Meiji Restoration, they open their borders and allow foreigners in, the world is astonished to see the nature of the devices they’ve created. While Europe has only started utilizing steam power within the past century or less, Japan has been using steam technology for centuries and it’s very advanced and uniquely Japanese. They have gorgeous steam-powered ships, stunning and fast, even those meant for moving cargo beautiful. Steam powered looms create amazing jacquard fabric for kimono and yukata and other clothes, patterns beyond anything comparable looms in England or New England can create. The list goes on and on. While Japanese nationals travel abroad to learn more about the world, engineers the world over flock to Japan to learn more.

Katsuki Yuri has been largely sheltered from the changes that have reshaped Japan. Kyushu was on the periphery of the Civil War, and Yuri was too young to serve, and none of the influx of foreigners has found their way to Hasetsu yet. His life has largely been planned for him - he’s expected to work at the family on-sen - but he’s always been drawn to the decorative arts and, as a hobby in his spare time, he takes up mechanical engineering, creating intricate toys and clocks moved by gears. They’re stunningly beautiful, lacquerware that gleams in the sun, polished to a high sheen, creatures that move like they’re alive when they’re wound up. His toys spread around the town, his clocks adorning the decorative nooks of the homes of the wealthy, but he’s not known beyond and he doesn’t consider himself particularly adept. He only accepts enough payment to cover his materials. It’s not his job. The hot spring is his job.

Too often, though, his work is interrupted by night time when things grow dark. Candle light is too intermitten for the detail that he’s trying to create. So he gets an idea - the steam from the onsen could be used to generate power to heat metal to generate light. The family onsen has pools that aren’t used by the patrons; he closes one off with a lid to channel the steam, experiments with different metals, and develops a light-emitting filament that runs on steam power and lets him work at night.

Or: How Katsuki Yuri invents a steam-powered lightbulb so that he can pursue his “hobby” of making masterwork-level clockwork creatures.

So one of Yuri’s toys makes it to Edo and a foreigner named Victor is impressed. The utility of the toy, combined with it’s beauty, draws him - this is the same kind of amazing workmanship that, ten years later, would lead to the creation of the first Fabrege egg - Tsarist Russia ate that kind of stuff up. It takes Victor literal months to navigate Japan with his poor language skills well enough to find the creator of the bird toy, and that brings him to the small town of Hasetsu and the door step of Katsuki Yuri.

Yuri is stunned by Victor, the first gaijin he’s ever seen. Victor is exotic, beautiful, and effusive in his praise. 

Victor has been all over the world in pursuit of technical mastery and has NEVER seen anything like what Yuri has - not only has Yuri created a light source, he’s also designed a variety of unique, steam powered tools to help him do delicate work. Further, Yuri seems to have no idea what he’s done, how incredibly innovative he’s been. Victor cannot believe that Yuri is blind to the marketability of his creations, oblivious to the uniqueness of his inventions.

And honestly Yuri’s modesty is about the sweetest, most endearing thing Victor has ever seen. He’s used to a world where the finest craftspeople have inflated egos and boast constantly and act like the royalty they sell to. Meanwhile here’s Katsuki Yuri, working quietly for peanuts, creating works that would make those other men and women weep with jealousy.

Victor is extremely torn between helping Yuri realize the fame he deserves, and allowing Yuri to stay his quiet, naive self.

It takes a lot of time and effort and communication but eventually Yuri agrees to let Victor market his creations. Yuri expects nothing from this, but instead he is of course a smashing success, in Japan and the world over, and he is so, so, so, SO glad he’s let Victor be his front man.

It takes even more time and effort and communication before they acknowledge how much they adore each other.

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Ltleflrt sent me an ask: Serial killer Dean or serial killer Cas? The obvious answer is both, but if you HAD to choose one? :)

May I submit for your consideration: Cas and Jimmy as serial killer twin brothers?

Jimmy was always blood thirsty and Cas was always his self restraint and as they got older Jimmy grew more and more frustrated and resentful, getting closer and closer to telling Cas to go fuck himself cause Jimmy can do whatever he wants.

He’s already decided, he’s gonna go for it on his 21st birthday. While all the other 21 year olds are getting smashed he’s going to find some asshole and take his life.

Except there’s Cas in his way again, with some bullshit plans that Jimmy couldn’t care less about, and he starts to think maybe he’ll kill Cas instead of someone random. He’s the evil twin and he’s so done with the good twins shit. He thinks about it the whole time Cas leads him to a secluded place for god knows what.

Until Cas says they’ve arrived.

And there’s a random dude tied to a chair.

“He’s for you. Hes completely safe. No one knkws he is gone, and no one will come looking for him. You deserve everything you can dream of, but it’s like I’ve always said, we have to be careful. Happy birthday, brother.”

*We* have to be careful.

They’re in this together.

And to think Jimmy thought Cas was trying to stop him!

Jimmy unties the man and tells him to run.

They kill him together, their first murder. After all, it’s both their birthdays.

But there’s no way they’re waiting another year to do this again.


It’s actually Jimmy who thinks how to manipulate their being twins to their advantage. It’s right after they graduate college and he’s thinking about the challenges they face going forward and then he remembers how he almost killed Cas that night and how terrible it was and then it hits him…

“Cas, what if I killed you?”


“What…if everyone thought you were dead? Like, if you were killed by a serial killer?”

“That would be ironic.”

“And helpful.”

“If we were both alive…but everyone thought only you were…”

Jimmy smiles excitedly and waves for Cas to continue.

“We could share your life. We could fake alibis. And who would think you, who lost a brother to senseless violence, would be a criminal?”


“God, that’s brilliant Jimmy.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“Well duh, we’re brothers.”

“No, I *love* you.”

And that’s the first time they sleep together.

Afterwards, they get to work.

“Alright, let’s research open serial killer cases and move somewhere that I fit the profile and we can find a look alike and plan the perfect crime…”

It will take time and work but Jimmy can wait. As long as Cas is at his side and they’re in this together, Jimmy doesn’t need patience. He has Cas for that.

“Good afternoon, Dean.”


“I’m here to pick up my car.”

“…we don’t have a car for you. Never seen you before.”

“Jimmy Novak?”

“Psh, you’re not Jimmy Novak.”

Benny comes in. “Oh, Novak, we’ve got your car.”

Dean starts to raise a stink but Benny talks him down because obviously the twins are identical and Dean is wrong.

Except he’s not. Dean is face blind and has gotten insanely good at reading body language and can easily tell the brothers apart. When Cas and Jimmy talk after they decide they can’t risk letting Dean talk about whatever differences he saw. They decide to take him, torture him into sharing how he knew the difference, and then kill him.

But when they get part easy through, they’ve tortured Dean bloody, learned about his abilities and skills and that he has a dark masochistic streak a mile wide they decide instead to keep him. Someone with his abilities would be insanely useful to their work.

So they stage another murder, and carry Dean off with them.

And are surprised when he agrees to join them almost immediately. Or at least, join them in murder. Getting him to join them in bed takes much more effort.

I struggle with murder husband AUs where the victims don’t deserve it so I’m thinking they go after unattached drifters and homeless people. Not those who are mentally ill or addicts, no, they go after those who could better themselves but blame everyone else for their problems. They target those who take advantage of others, especially if they take advantage of other homeless or extremely poor people. This attitude is what gets Dean on board.

See, Dean has his own history. His father John was a killer, flat out. He refused to believe he was mentally ill, refused to take medication, even though it made him completely better. Holding down a job and being a good citizen and father and taking medication daily was to prosaic for John Winchester. So instead he dragged his boys all over the country hunting. Originally thought John killed monsters. By the time he realized that his father was insane it was far too late for him to fix things, but he did take Sam and just…leave. let their father be crazy alone, he and his brother deserve a life. Dean has no compunction about killing as long as the son of a bitch has it coming.

Years later, about a year before he meets Jimmy and Cas, Dean learns that John was murdered himself, in strange circumstances. The case is never solved.

But when he learns Jimmy and Cas’ preferred victim profile and MO? He gets some damn strong suspicions.

And finds some creative ways to say thank you.

And wishes there’d been someone like Jimmy and Cas around when Dean and Sam were innocent kids trapped in their fathers paranoid hallucination of reality.



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The Haus Bar and Grill hosts a monthly game on the first Wednesday of the month, “Be Queen B For a Day.” The rules are easy.

1. $20 to enter.

2. If you’ve won before, you can’t enter again.

3. Contestants must be single.

4. Contestants must enter by 7 PM.

5. At 7, all people who’ve entered must be present.

6. Single Ladies begins at 7:01 on the dot.

7. Lip sync and match the original dance from the video.

8. The judges tap out those who aren’t up to snuff.

9. Last singer/dancer standing wins.

The prizes vary from week to week but are always impressive - there’s always an arranged date with a worthy gentleman, always a getaway of some kind - theater tickets, dinner reservations, a night in a hotel - and it’s always all expenses paid.

Jack works at the Haus and has been a judge since the event was inaugurated.

The month when the announced prize is attending the famous costume gala at the Boston Historical Society on the arm of renowned couturier Eric Bittle?

Is the month when Jack decides to enter instead of judge.

Is he nervous? Holy fricken hell yes he’s terrified.

But he *will* win.

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Okay but a mutual pining/once knew each other but were separated for a long time fic where twink Dean was a sub for hire using the name Zep to pay his way through engineering school and dom Cas was one of his customers and now its 10 something years later and Dean doesn’t even sub any more because as much as he loved it and he kept at it through school when he got more busy with a real job it wasn’t worth it anymore but it would totally have been worth it if the dom he only knew as “angel” had continued to hire him but it’s not like Dean can go look for the guy cause if angel had wanted Dean back he knew exactly how to reach him and Cas doesn’t dom anymore because he can’t get a certain sub for hire out of his head and he knows that’s ridiculous because for Zep it was just a job and that’s totally appropriate and Cas is the one who fell too hard and couldn’t stop seeing him until his job mercifully transferred him away and it became a moot point but no other sub is Zep and they both have only unsatisfying vanilla relationships and they’re reunited when their firms put in competing bids for the same job so they’re ALSO rivals to lovers and seriously how is this where I end up just because I keep hearing the same Selena Gomez song on the radio?

@cyborgtopus got me thinking of more so they’re reunited they meet its intense and they’re rivals and Dean is pissed cause Cas never even said goodbye and they grumble and grouse and like posture at each other and that night in their respective hotel rooms Cas picks up his phone, calls the number he has for Zep - which he never deleted cause nostalgia - and asks if Dean still does scenes for hire and Dean’s like fuck that but I’ll do one for free if you want and Cas says yes and they do their first scene over the phone and it takes them another like month before their not-actially-long-distance relationship becomes in person because neither wants to fess up to how they actually feel and they’re both emotionally constipated but it’s way way way way way way WAY too good to stop even if they’re not sure where they stand with each other.

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James Novak is normal, happy man, married to the love of his life, raising a daughter they both adored…until mischance put them in the wrong place at the wrong time and Amelia and Claire got caught up in the murder spree of the supervillain known only as The Demon. Devastated, Novak is consumed by vengeance. He liquidates his assets and goes into isolation, using every penny he owns to design and build a supersuit, which he dubs the Castiel suit, and he reappears in the public eye as a rogue vigilante superhero, beholden to no one, of shifting allegiance. No one really knows who he is or what he’s after, and his activities appear to random save to very few who are interested in the same goal - taking down The Demon and all his vile acolytes.

He ends up with a rag-tag group of allies - an independant hacker who calls herself Her Majesty, The Queen of Moondor (yes, really, and yes, you’d better use the full title), an information broker who goes by the name Bobby, a former Demon ally trying to form a rival, more benign, organization who uses the pseudonym Crowley, and the mysterious Righteous Man, always masked, always fearless to the point of being suicidal, who has a compelling draw on James’ attention, though he couldn’t say why. He takes out parts of The Demon’s organization, defeats enemies he thinks are The Demon only to learn they were actually psycophants, unravels the tangled skein of evil knot by knot as he seeks the person ultimately responsible for Claire and Amelia’s deaths.

And then Her Majesty, The Queen of Moondor gets in touch with him.

She’s cracked The Demon’s computer system.

She knows the truth now.

The Demon killed her mother, and she has no problem whatsoever helping James in his quest.

And the name of the man that James has been seeking for the better of a decade?

The name of the man who killed Amelia and Claire?

The name of The Demon?

Is Dean Winchester.

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Oh geeze so like all my initial instincts are to take this dark even if it's not actually a Hunger Games Au (but omg can you see it Dean volunteering to protect Sam, and meeting Cas there, and deciding together to break the system?).


Fuck angst heres a totally fluffy idea

Dean is a chef. He's not a celebrity or anything, but he does alright for himself. Much to his irritation, Sam enters him in a local cooking contest. Dean wins. Winners get to go to a statewide competition. Which Dean also wins. So he ends up at this national cooking thing and the prize is to represent the US at the Bocuse d'Or.

And. Dean. Wins.

And when he gets to France one of the judges is world renowned Russian chef Castiel Krushnic and judging by the glares Chef Krushnic keeps directing Dean's way he is not amused by Dean's antics.

(Or, in which Dean thinks hes got a good read on Castiel's facial expressions and hes completely wrong and does eventually get a detailed lesson from the master himself on what all those nuanced, subtle expressions actually mean.)

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Okay so Dean and Jimmy are dating and Cas is on the outside looking in and he's so so so jealous but what can he do? Like, he's always been crushing on his brother (but...incest...) and then Dean came and he was just fucking perfect so of course he and Jimmy hooked up because the two most perfect people Cas has ever met would obviously want to be with each other.

So by the time Chuck Shurley's annual Christmas party comes along he's feeling pretty damn bitter and sorry for himself.

Until he and Dean end up kissing beneath the mistletoe (...okay...ending up under the doorarch with Dean might not have been entirely accidental...) and it's fantastic and Cas is like..."you know I'm not Jimmy right..." and Dean is like... "um duh and that's not all I know..." and no one at the party *really* knows what to make of it when Cas and Jimmy also "accidentally" end up making out under the mistletoe but they all laugh it off as a joke, hahaha brothers being brothers.

That night Jimmy and Dean make it clear that it was never a laughing matter, and that they're all privately on the same fabulous page.

Cas is so happy to no longer have anything to be jealous about.

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Okay so Ru decides to do a themed season, where everyone who is recruited has a super hero themed drag alter ego. Steve is Rosie the Riveting. Bucky is Madame La Freeze. Sam is Tiana Falcon. There are other competitors too but from the start it's clear these three are the front runners. Rosie is no-nonsense, gets things done, lots of "retro style meets body suits." M. La Freeze has more of a cyborg/tech look going in. Tiana is the perfect marriage of Disney princess and utter badass with wings.

No one is surprised when they're the final three.

Everyone is surprised when the make a pact with the judge Natasha (she recuses herself from the finale) and decide to split the prizes regardless of who actually wins.

They end up buying a house together in LA.

Rumor is they actually fight crime, vigilante style, especially dealing with homophobic douche bags who linger around Queer clubs looking to start shit.

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Dean is in hell. Sam is alive, so its worth it, but as Meg says.. hell is, well, like hell. And he clings to hope where he can find it but as days of torture stretch to weeks stretch to months stretch to year after year after year...he gives up. He gives Alastair what he wants. He truly thinks hes beyond hope, forgotten how to hope...

...and then he sees the glimmers of heavenly light on the horizon, where there never *was* a horizon before.

And Dean finds hope again.

And Alastair can't have that.

When Castiel finally gets to the most righteous man, theres not much left and its gonna take at least 20,000 words of hurt/comfort to fix the damage.

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The first time Dean met Castiel, he was serving in France, lost behind enemy lines in a town whose name he kept mispronouncing, too broke to afford a baguette, hungry and footsore and hating every decision that brought him to that moment.

The second time Dean met Castiel, he was on a beach in Normandy in the chaos and horror of battle.

The third time Dean met Castiel, it was in the forgotten end of forever in Kansas.

Each time was an utter coincidence, and so was the fourth, and the fifth, but by the sixth, Dean was really starting to wonder what bizarre force kept pulling them together.

Soulmates were a myth.

But sometimes, when Dean saw Cas...he wondered.

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Castiel is an undercover detective who works to bust sex trafficking rings. One time on a bust he's been posing as a wealthy Russian buyer for the past few months. Full package - rich, alpha, brash, reckless, disrespectful of omegas, all that jazz. And it's finally the day of the inspection of the merchandise - the day the bust will be made. The seller - who goes by Alastair - brings out the omegas he has for sale. Or rather escorts Cas into a room where the available omegas are strapped down to breeding benches, naked and ready. Cas is sickened but plays along, as he must, waiting for enough incriminating evidence to call his team in. At least he knows that today is the last day these omegas will be treated like this.

And then he gets a whiff of one of the omegas and knows...that's his true mate. That poor young man right there, completely silent and still even as Alastair smacks his bare ass and thrusts a finger into him that comes out coated in slick - the omegas are given aphrodisiacs to be sure they're ready.

Cas can't take any more. He gives the word and the swat teams descend. Alastair is arrested, the omegas are freed.

Over the following weeks the most difficult and rewarding part of the process beings: getting the omegas treatment, identifying them, reuniting them with their families, etc. These victims are in as bad shape as any Cas has ever seen, traumatized, subdued, but little by little they open up, share their birth names, or are identified by scouring missing person reports.

And one by one, they go home.

Except Cas' mate. He never talks, barely communicates non verbally, eats and cares for himself listlessly. Cas of course says nothing about what he scents and if the omega noticed their compatibility it passed unremarked.

Worst of all, there is NO missing person report.

Like. Cas has a vested interest in learning more about the omega. He looks throughout the country. He looks in Canada. He looks in Europe. He doesn't think the omega is of Spanish decent but still as he gets more desperate he looks in Mexico, central America, the Caribbean. But. There's just nothing. No one reported the omega missing. Which means that the authorities have no idea who he is, where he came from, or what to do with him. The plan is to send him to a group home, which Cas is understandably concerned about, but after what the omega has been through there's no way Cas is gonna push things.

Then a chance conversation with his colleagues reveals something Cas hadn't realized. The omega - they call him JD, John Doe - only eats when Cas is with him, only gives rudimentary responses when Cas asks, really only interacts with Cas. So, on a wild whim (telling himself it's not selfish, though man does he worry it is) Cas goes to the omega and thoroughly explains his options - that JD will be placed in a home where he'll be cared for, or he can go with Cas. And the omega looks so stricken, so worried...and when Cas says, "stand up and we can leave now together and go to my house," the omega follows him.

Cas has never felt more warmth in his chest, more alpha pride,, in a weird but very real way.

It's a very, very long time of gentle care and affection and trust building before the omega finally speaks.

It's when Cas says he has to go undercover again, and will be gone, probably for months.

"Please be careful," is all the omega says, soft and gruff. But he might as well have said "I love you" as far as Cas is concerned, and it's all Cas can do not to say it back.

When he finally comes back after his latest bust, depressed, exhausted, drained by the horrors he sees, the omega greets him with a dazzling smile and warmth in his eyes, and that night to Cas' surprise the omega gets into bed with him, holds him close, scents him deeply, whispers his name over and over.

They never sleep alone again.

The next morning, JD finally shares his name. Dean.

With that information, Cas is able to reconstruct the story of a broken home, a son not cared about, a drunken father, another son still missing but also never reported.

And meanwhile their relationship blossoms, with soft touches and cuddles, scenting and spooning, tender kisses, slow exploration of each other's body.

And Cas shares what he learned, and didn't learn, about Dean's family. That John Winchester is dead. That Sam Winchester is missing. That Cas is ready, with Dean's permission, to speak to his higher ups and have finding Sam be his next mission.

Dean agrees.

The night before Cas leaves to go undercover again, they have penetrative sex for the first time, Dean sinking into Cas body, a hand wrapped around to massage Cas' knot. They don't exchange bites - Dean can't give his body up like that, and Cas can't risk a mark in his line of work - but they're joined, as surely as if the bite takes place, true mates forever.

It takes 3 months to find Sam Winchester and bring him home.

And then, finally...Cas has a family. And Dean and Sam Winchester are saved.

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Castiel is a young angel on the run from his garrison (young be relative, of course, he's very old by human standards...mostly this is my excuse to have him be a bit of a twink...) and he stumbles into a bar looking for a place to hide. There he meets Dean, who has been hunting solo since John died and Sam left for a normal life. Dean knows his way around the supernatural but doesn't believe in angels. Regardless, he agrees to help cause Cas is cute and he doesn't have a hunt anyway and, well, having nothing to distract himself is the Actual Worst.

So they go on the run together and, well, within a few days Dean has seen enough that he 1. no longer doubts the existence of angels and 2. is annoyed cause they're huge dicks. Even Castiel, who is relying heavily on Dean's well-honed skills of covering his trail, is kinda of a douche bag to Dean. But there's also something about him, and while Dean considers ditching Castiel to his fate...he doesn't. Dean isn't sure if the other angels are gonna kill him or mind wipe him or what, but he likes Cas and doesn't want him gone, and he'd forgotten how nice it was not to have to solo travel across the country in the Impala, so despite the inconveniences, they stick together.

They think they've finally thrown the angels from their scent - haven't seen any sign in about a week, even venture to try a regular hunt together - when they get caught once again. That's when, back on the road after a narrow escape, Castiel makes his request of Dean.

"Cut off my wings. That'll remove my grace. I'll become human, and they won't be able to find us anymore."

Well, that's clearly insane, thinks Dean. Who'd give up immortality? They go back and forth arguing about it, but angel sign lights the horizon, their pursuers drawing close, and finally...Dean concedes. He's never even seen Cas' wings but he can feel them, feathers soft under his fingers, as he takes up a knife and sinew by sinew severs them from Cas' back. Cas screams in agony, writhing and struggling until he mercifully passes out. When the first wing comes free it becomes momentarily visible and then dissolves into ash like a sheet of paper crinkling and sparking and incinerating. Dean has done a lot of awful shit in his life, but this takes the cake.

Still, Cas is right. When the wings are gone, there's a flash of blue, and then the distant angel sign flares like heat lightning before disappearing. Dean swears he can feel their fricken confusion as Cas poofs from their angel radar. Cas is bleeding, unconscious, so Dean loads him into the Impala and drives him to a motel and does his damnedest to administer first aid. The longer Cas stays blacked out, the more Dean misses him and the more guilty he feels. Surely there was another way. Exhausted, Dean increasingly feels like he didn't even try. They could have contacted others - Bobby, Sam, Ellen, Ash, surely someone could have offered another solution. And now it's too late.

Of course, sooner or later Cas realizes that Dean blames himself and is drowning under a mountain of guilt. The moment comes when they've finally moved on, searching for a hunt, and Dean leaves Cas asleep in a motel to go get epically smashed at a club down the street. Cas wakes alone and, using the skills he had as an angel and his knowledge of Dean, tracks him down. Drunk!Dean lets it all spill out...and then sobers up damn quick when Cas goes full righteous fury. How dare Dean pretend he did something wrong when Cas begged him to take that step. How dare Dean steal the gravity, the agency, of that decision from Castiel. The hardest choice Cas ever made, one of the only decisions he made for himself in millennia of serving God...and Dean claims it's all Dean's fault and he shouldn't have done it and he's sorry?

Wow. Cas is hot when he's furious.

They don't talk about it again, but day by day Cas heals physically, and Dean recovers mentally, and...they travel. They hunt. They talk. They grow together.

Though he's now mortal, Cas is still a warrior, still ridiculously knowledgable, still utterly clueless about some simple things (yes you have to brush your damn teeth Cas do you WANT to get gingivitis? Huh? Do you?). He's...naive and brilliant, utterly competent yet completely inept, a whirlwind that came into Dean's life and completely reshaped it. It's not long before Dean can't imagine hunting without him. As to other feelings...well...he'd never burden Cas with anything like that.

Then there's the night the motel only has one bed. 

And when Dean suggests he'll sleep on the floor Cas just stares him down until Dean mumbles that fine, he'll take the bed. He fricken squeaks when Cas climbs in beside him. But y'all know how this goes, its cold, they snuggle closer, they sleep so easy, and by the next morning...there's no question that neither of them will be sleeping alone again.

Cuddling close at night proceeds, by slow degrees, to sharing gentle touches and soft caresses. At first, Dean is reluctant, the moreso because every time he skims a finger over Cas' back he feels Cas' scars and is reminded of everything he cost Cas (yeah, intellectually he knows Cas is right, that Dean is turning Cas' story into his own in a completely inappropriate way, but when he's tired and worn from a hunt and just wants a warm embrace, his intellectual response is fucking useless compared to the mountain of emotional depression that wallops him.)

But when Dean pulls his hands away, Cas gently brings them back, rubs down Dean's back, and little by little they rest closer together, soft words becoming soft kisses becoming soft touches to tender flesh and...well...if anyone had told Dean a year ago that he'd be blissfully sharing his life with a twink former angel of the lord, he'd have said they were crazy, but now? He wouldn't change a fucking thing.

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I'm imagining puppeteer Cas who in regular day to day life is quiet and surly and an utter smartass and avoids telling people his job, not cause he's embarrassed but because they just flat out disbelieve that he is an actor with some goddamn range thank you very much.

Dean is Big Bird. And because he has to get there super early to get in costume, he and Cas have somehow managed to never have a conversation when Dean wasn't all dressed up. And, well, it's impossible to take flirting seriously when it's fricken Big Bird so Cas thinks Dean is just a kinda dorky big goof, and Dean thinks Cas is totally uninterested and stopped flirting cause c'mon he's not That Guy.

Sam is one of the muppet designers.

He's more interested in the tech side. When they need the muppets do something that should be impossible for a puppet, Sam is who they go to, and he always finds a way.

Through a combo of advanced puppet designer, topnotch puppeteering, and post filming digital stuff.

One day there's a staff meeting, when there's no filming, and when Cas sees Dean, he's like...damm, he's hot, must be a new guy, wonder who he'll be playing? And he puts the moves on. And Dean is baffled cause Cas has literally never reciprocated.

Even when Dean replies Cas doesn't realize his mistake, cause, well, Big Bird voice. Cas doesn't talk like Elmo day to day either.

It's not until Charlie comes in, shoulder bumps Dean, and goes "yo yo yo what up Biggie B?" That Cas mind boggles to the realization that Dean is Big Bird (Charlie always calls Big Bird that every day).

Anyway once Cas realizes his mistake it doesn't take long for them to reach an understanding. They've been friends for quite a while, and taking the next step...well...neither makes it to the staff meeting.

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I'm imagining Dean bitching to his roomie Cas cause Cas' cat always busts in to the bathroom when Dean is trying to take a whizz, and when he complains, Cas is all, "my cat wouldn't bother you if you'd bother to latch the door."

Dean definitely latches the damn door.

But that fucking cat...

Meanwhile Dean is pretty much obsessed with Cas? Cause hello total hotty who wouldn't be? But their roomies and don't even know each other very well and why mess with what's working and Cas is probably straight anyway and basically Dean's got a million excuses for not just admitting he wants to bang.

Those thoughts are left for when he's alone in the shower. The door is actually pretty thick, and anyway Cas leaves early for work, so there's no danger of Cas hearing all the times Dean splatters comes on the shower stall wall while moaning Cas' name.

And then there are the days when the shower is interrupted by a gust of cold air.

Because the fucking cat pushes the door open.

Anyway one of those times Dean is about an inch from climax when the door pushes open and the cold nearly kills his vibe. "Oh, fuck, Cas..." he growls "...and fuck, cat!"

But he keeps stroking.

And then.

"Dean, you left the door open again..."

Cas is home.

And his voice is low and hoarse and growly and wrecked.

And Dean comes, choking on Cas name, cause damn those mental images.

Anyway after that they have a long talk and sort out a few things.

Ending with Dean moving his things into Cas' bedroom and them turning Dean's room into a study.

The cat is strictly banned from the bedroom.

But still gets in every night.

Dean is like 98% sure the cat knows how to turn door knobs.

Cas says he's crazy but always has this secretive smile when he says it.

Dean is like 92% sure that Cas trained the cat to turn door knobs.

Not that he minds. Turns out Cas was home sick that day, and followed the cat to the bathroom to close the door again as a favor, but when he heard Dean moaning his name while masturbating, well, the rest is history.

Their friends all thought they were dating already. Which is actually good, it spares them from having to come up with a plausible lie for how they finally hooked up, cause fuck knows they can't tell their friends the truth.

Dean swears the cat is smug.

Fuck, maybe the cat should be. It all worked out in the end.

(Dean would never admit that he secretly adores the cat and would literally die for her.)

(Cas knows anyway.)

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A Build a Bear AU which is either Dean and Dean/Cas, who go to Build a Bear with their kid and there they meet employee Benny, who thinks he's straight but he's maybe not quite as sure as he should be when he sees Dean. It takes a while for him to come out of his shell, and out of the closet, but by the time Dean and Cas are done with him, they've definitely built a bear.

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Castiel is at Pride when the shooting breaks out. He's too stunned to even move, just kinda standing there, when the dude standing next to him tackles him to the ground.

"You okay there buddy?" asks the man, voice strained. "Just keep still, we're gonna get through this."

They mumble a frightened conversation while lying there, and it's not until the police call an all clear and EMTs swarm the scene that Castiel realizes the man has been shot - "hey, c'mon, it's okay now, they got whoever did this, we can get up," except the man doesn't move - and almost certainly saved Castiel's life. Castiel is a doctor and immediately sets about doing what he can to help the man until the EMTs can get to them. He staunches the bleeding, covers the wounds, agitates until they get the attention they need. His savior gives him something to focus on, something to think about other than the carnage surrounding them.

The EMTs finally get to them, thank Castiel, and take the man away.

Castiel didn't even learn his name.

The next day, as the details hit the news, Castiel avoids the coverage mostly. He doesn't want to know who did it, doesn't want to know the casualty count, doesn't want to know about the prayers and condolences of asshole politicians nor the vapid promises of the supposedly more sympathetic party.

All he wants is a list of the injured survivors.

He has to believe the man survived.

And so Castiel looks, and looks, and looks and finally...there he is, among the casualties,  a smiling picture of the same man on a happier day beside the name Dean Winchester, condition critical but stable.

Castiel goes to the hospital, uses his knowledge of the system to get to the right ward...and is denied entry by the guards there. Frustrated, he starts to leave, when a tall man with long, shaggy hair chases him down the hall.

"Hey - hey, you're him aren't you? My brother woke up briefly and asked if the guy he tried to help was okay, and the ER docs said whoever had treated Dean's wounds saved his life.

They'd saved each others lives.

With the help of the brother - Sam, who'd driven all night to get to the hospital and stay with his brother - Castiel gets permission to visit. His own job has given him time off to get some therapy and cope with the trauma, and he spends more and more of that time every day at Dean's bedside. There'd been little sense to their conversation that day, but now they talked about everything while Dean was awake, meandering through everything from pop culture to childhood injuries to prom night stories to favorite books. When Dean is resting, Castiel just sits, reads Kerouac cause Dean recommended it (sometimes he reads it aloud), talks quietly with Sam.

By the time Dean is released from the hospital, they're...not a couple, not in a relationship, because they've never talked about anything tangible like that.

But they're inseparable.

Dean, it turns out, is a veteran turned police officer, and has the bi flag tattoo on his lower back that Dean jokingly refers to as his tramp stamp. He gets an extended leave from his position, longer than Castiel's for obvious reasons. Sam ultimately has to return to his own life, and Dean spends more and more of his time at Castiel's. They eat together, take turns sharing favorite shows and movies (Castiel gets increasingly invested in Dr. Sexy; Dean refuses to acknowledge how obsessed he's becoming with Downton Abbey). They go out for meals. Castiel helps with Dean's rehab, with slow walks in the local parks slowly growing into more strenuous hikes in the nearest nature areas and jogs side by side along Castiel's favorite routes.

What they don't do is touch. They sit apart on the couch. When Dean stays the night, he sleeps on the pull out couch. When they go to restaurants they don't share dessert. Everyone assumes they're a couple.

Castiel isn't sure if he should assume they're a couple.

But he can't imagine being with anyone else.

And so a year passes.

And it's the anniversary of the attack.

And they're marathoning Dr. Sexy in the safety of Castiel's apartment but Dean is so far away and theres a horrible knot in Castiel's chest as he thinks how close he was to losing this man who has become the most important person in his life.

So he shifts to the middle of the couch.

And with a single, raised eyebrow look, Dean nods slowly and leans into him.

The episode ends, and Netflix asks if they want to keep watching.

They're shoulder to shoulder, and Castiel turns his head to Dean, and Dean turns his head to Castiel, and their lips meet, and, well, kissing is as natural as watching TV together or jogging together or dining out together. One soft brush of mouth on mouth becomes several, becomes an unbroken series of kiss upon kiss upon kiss. Castiel cups Dean's cheek, Dean wraps and arm around Castiel's back, and they share gentle, tender affection until they fall asleep, tangled, lips still touching, on a couch that isn't really big enough for the two of them together.

They wake up when Dean falls off.

The next night, Castiel holds out a hand and Dean follows him to bed without a word.

They don't bother to tell their friends they're an official couple. They know their friends or Sam already assumed, and they don't need to know the details.

They do tell their friends when, six months later, Dean slips a ring onto Castiel's finger. He doesn't even bother to ask. They both know the answer. Being apart is simply unimaginable.

Its impossible to really explain to anyone how the worst day of their lives was also the best, because it brought them together, but fortunately they don't need anyone to understand but each other.

On their 50th anniversary, they EmCee Pride, a symbol of the power and resiliency and love inherent in the community.

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Familiar Dean hates witches. Like, really truly loathes them. His mother's witch bonded her against her will and worked her to flinders, really worked her to death. The grief of it destroyed John, and he taught his boys - never trust them, never give them an inch because they'll take a mile, never ever complete a bonding. The withdrawal of the Winchesters from the public is a subject of note - they were a well known family with a splendid, powerful lineage of familiars on both sides. A lot of witches approach them, and John rebukes them increasingly awfully and cruelly - appropriately in his mind, and at least some of the time he's surely right. Sam is so disgusted though that as soon as he's of age, he leaves. After a few years, this behavior leads to John's death.

Utterly embittered, Dean continues his withdrawal from public and his rejection of witches, until the night an old crone of a witch comes to his door, asking for alms and mercy.

Dean tells her to go fuck herself.

Furious, and rightly so cause she did nothing wrong, the witch ('s Meg...) curses Dean. He is trapped into his animalistic familiar form, a monstrous, human-bear hybrid thing. She says he can only break the curse by learning to love and trust a witch enough to bond with one.

So never.

But Dean doesn't care. He's an island. He doesn't need a witch. He never wanted a witch. And yeah, being a bear-thing is inconvenient but not unmanagable.

Or so he thinks. Until the curse starts to spread. He becomes friends with a woman - also a familiar - named Charlie, and the first time she visits the Winchester mansion (basically the Bunker but above ground and she's transformed into her laptop form and unable to change back. Another new friend, Kevin, becomes an entire darn reference library. Interesting and informative but not the form one wants a friend to be locked into. There are others, Benny and Garth and more, Benny becomes an even, Garth a wandering sock puppet, until Dean's cohabitation with a dozen plus other familiars, all trapped to the grounds, all bound in familiar forms.

Well fuck.

Dean was already basically a recluse but this seals the deal. He stops leaving the house, stops making friends, relies on delivery services for groceries and basic necessities. Thank God for inherited fortune and credit cards, because they enable him to pay, and the delivery folks leave the things at the front door and he retrieves them after the folks leave.

It's kind of awful.

He's glad he's got Charlie and Kevin and Garth and all the others for company...

...but every interaction with them is agony.

He didn't just ruin his own life. His bullshit excuse for a life was already ruined. But he ruined their lives as well, and that's just not fair.

Still, he's trapped in an internal battle, between helping them and overcoming his utter hatred of witches. The result is paralysis, as days stretch to weeks stretch to years. No one new comes. Nothing changes. The mansion slowly becomes dilapidated. The dumb-ass tattoo that Meg engraved into his arm grows little by little, a symbol he knows too well is the Mark of Cain, a symbol of hatred of demonic energy. When the tattoo forms fully, Dean will be lost, really and truly. His friends bear up...shockingly...well. But it's untenable and yet nothing ever changes because Dean can't find the strength (can't fight out of the depression caused by his parents' deaths...) to change it.

Until Sam comes to visit.

He's finally done with school, he's heard that John died, and rumors whisper of the beast in the Winchester manor. Sam knows what Dean becomes, knows Dean can be a jackass, but a beast? Seriously? Anyway, Sam has some news to share - he's found a gentle, loving, caring witch named Eileen and he plans to join with her, and he wants Dean's understanding, and blessing, and presence.

When he arrives at the house, he finds it dark, dreary, worn, and apparently abandoned. He steps through the rooms, calling, seeking...

...and succumbs to the curse.

Sam is transformed into a dog (a golden retriever, his familiar form), and trapped in the house like the others.

The guilt of it is what finally spurs Dean to try to action...of a sort.

He uses Charlie laptop and joins a familiar/witch dating site.

"My name is Dean Winchester, I'm an Aquarius, I like long walks on the beach and I'm cursed to stay a bear thing until I learn to trust and love. Warning, all familiars will be cursed too."

He's got to do something .


Castiel. Poor, naive Castiel. His dad is an enchanter, and everyone knows enchanters are bonkers. Chuck taught Castiel everything he knows, and together they build the kind of enchanted goods that gain them renown worldwide...and massive ridicule at home. Its enough. Who cares if the local rubes think they're nuts? They're brilliant and accomplished and moving isn't an option, since Castiel's mother is a familiar and, due to ill health, she can no longer transform to her human form and so is forever the tree whose branches spread shade over their backyard.

But Castiel has a problem. As he gets older, without a familiar, his magic begins to fade. He's met familiars with whom he was compatible - there's one especially repulsive fellow in town named Ketch with whom Castiel resonates very well - but, well, the locals kind of hate them and Castiel is epicly not interested.

So Castiel turns to the internet, and joins a witch/familiar dating website.

Dean of course thinks the website is utter bullshit and has a knack for finding the one profile that will make him rage-smash Charlie's clamshell shut. But as much as Charlie loves being a laptop, she's bored in Dean's house all the time, hates how angry his loneliness and guilt causes him to get and how he takes it out on his household, and she knows Dean is wrong. Witches are just people, same as familiars, and some are horrible, and some are awesome. So everytime Dean gives up cause he's read some douchey profile, or been propositioned by a stranger, or or or, she goes searching, quietly, on her own, and seeds his next sets of search results with people he might actually be compatible with.

And that's how she finds Castiel.

Charlie miiight be so sure Castiel is perfect that she takes the additional step of putting Dean as one of Castiel's top results...

...and sends him a couple messages to break the ice...

...pretending to be Dean...

...which is how Dean logs on next time and finds a couple friendly, "it's a pleasure to meet you maybe we can talk more" kinds of messages from a user named novaksgiven (Dean's username is bearpala).

Needless to say, they hit it off.

They don't even live that far apart, Dean lives just outside of Lawrence, Castiel in Olpe, though his profile is a bit more vague than that.

And after about a month of increasingly friendly messaging and ever growing rapport, including long-distance dates where they watch the same thing at the same time and live text the experience...

...Castiel asks to meet.

And Dean rage shuts the laptop again.

Because Castiel is awesome and hilarious and really just kind of perfect and it's probably all a scheme and he must be fake and no witch is that amazing and *if they meet Castiel will know what a useless, rageful, over aggressive bear of a beast Dean is.*

Well. Fucked that up.

Just like he fucks up everything.

He retreats to the master bedroom, shuts all the curtains, slumps on his parents huge four poster bed like a damn sepulchre, and wallows.


Chuck's latest invention is huge and none of the locals will help transport it and he needs to get it to the big contest at the University of Kansas in Lawrence. So he and Castiel load it up into their truck and Chuck sets off. But he has an accident on the way. The truck breaks down. He goes to the nearest building for help ( guess...) and immediately feels the resonance within. A familiar. Very powerful. Perfect for Castiel. So he "faints" on the doorstep. That way they'll have to help him, right? And Castiel will come find him, and he'll meet the familiar and all their problems will be solved. (...exactly one problem will be solved, but hey, Castiel's happiness is very important to his father.)

Sam and some of the others contrive to get Chuck into the house, keeping it all a secret from Dean, and Chuck's story gains credence when he develops a real fever and raves, delirious, in bed. (And oh, the comedy of errors to keep Dean from finding out about the visitor.)

Of course when Castiel gets the call that Chuck never made it to Lawrence, he hops on his moped and sets off.

He finds the broken down truck, finds the empty mansion, as a snowstorm rages.

Dean has been locked in his bedroom for days, too depressed to stir, clueless about Chuck. Sam and the others welcome Castiel to the house, get him comfortable, bring him to his sick father, suggest the two not linger, but he doesn't know how to fix the truck and a moped can't take both of them.

So he stays. (He doesn't feel the resonance, he doesn't have that gift... neither does Dean... Sam so does...and some of Chuck's delirious rantings mention it, if only they could understand him.)

Meanwhile, Dean finally resolves to contact novaksgiven so he logs in and sends some messages and gets no answers even though the system says Cas is online (... someone didn't close out their system before they left home, so many open Chrome tabs, so many...).

The guilt and depression and frustration that he roused himself only to be rebuked by silence sends Dean into a rage. He storms through the house, terrifying Castiel, freaking out his friends, etc., etc.

Dean demands they fuck right off, be damned that Chuck is sick and its fricken snowing out (and snow? In Kansas? Fuck climate change). It takes the entire household to calm him down, get him to realize that the other two have to stay until Chuck feels better, and finally he begrudgingly permits it on the condition they stay the hell away from him.

But of course little by little he and Castiel start hitting it off.

And Chuck's fever miiight break after a couple days but he and Sam talk it over and decide to pull a Mrs. Bennett-when-Jane-is-sick-at-Bingleys (oh no no no Chuck is far too sick to be moved, poor darling.)

Castiel and Dean get friendly.

They like each other.

Dean is...kinda sweet under all the gruff.

Castiel is...sort of perfect beneath the "but he's a witch" bullshit.

(And they're more perfect for each other because in the time they've been texting on the website they're taste has grown more similar, not that either of them mentions their online friend to the other)

But there's still bearpala...and novaksgiven...Castiel really liked him...Dean really had hopes for that guy…


Ketch and his little sidekick Mick break into the Novak home, claiming to be worried about Castiel. While basically ransacking the place, he finds the open tabs and gets instant suspicions when he sees the convo with bearpala, especially the last angry ranty messages bearpala sent. Claiming rampant concern for his snooty neighbor (sensing an opportunity to force Castiel, in the midst of a crisis, to bond Ketch to save himself), the two jerks go in search of Castiel.


Dean has fallen so badly for Castiel that he realizes...he has to stir, has to make himself step outside his own front door, had to admit...he's had the skills to fix the truck all along. He doesn't tell Cas yet - doesn't want to get his hopes up in case they have to wait a week for the right part to be delivered.

That's where Ketch and Mick find him, and, seeing him messing with the Novak truck, assume the worst.

Ketch and Mick stalk through the icy wilderness, following the beast back to his house.

And when they step within, they transform, Ketch into his familiar form...he's a hippopotamus...and Mick into hummingbird. They find Castiel (who of course recognizes them) and claim they're there to rescue him. Realizing his home has been invaded, and that Castiel is in distress, Dean lashes out to protect Cas and Chuck, and a huge dangerous fight ensues.

And Ketch was sort of right - being in distress does trigger Castiel to form a bond - and sort of wrong - since that bond is with the one of them Cas a. Gives a fuck about and b. Is profoundly compatible with.

As Ketch tears teeth into Dean's arm, and Mick's pecks get closer and closer to his eyes, Castiel and Dean spontaneously bond...

...and with the resulting explosion of fresh, new magic, Castiel fricken annihilates the two intruders who dared to hurt his familiar.

The completion of the bond doesn't break the spell.

The death of Ketch (there are a zillion witnesses to testify that it was a home invasion and that Castiel acted in defense of Dean so no danger there) doesn't break the spell.

No, that comes the next day, when Dean regains consciousness in his own bed, still a beast, with Cas at his bedside caring for him, and they finally fricken talk .

They talk about being bonded, and how sorry Cas is that things happened as they did.

They talk about how, when Dean really thinks about it, he...doesn't actually mind that much.

They talk about their failed past efforts to find a partner...

...which lead to finding out that they were bearpala and novaksgiven...

...which leads to the realization that the reason they hit it off so well so immediately was that, well...

...they were kinda sorta really already in love with each other.

And that's when the spell breaks.

And everyone in the household goes back to normal in lots of gold swirling sparkles.

(Eileen is extremely relieved...)

And you can pretty much guess how things go from there.

(And this went soooo much longer than I expected but a few pieces still got left out, like Meg using more magic to help play matchmaker, especially in making sure that Cas found his way to Dean's mansion, and of course theres Chuck's nigh miraculous and sudden complete recovery now that everything has worked out, and Dean admitting he fixed the truck, which ended up moot because of Ketch getting involved, and a whole lot of happily ever after, maybe with a splash of Castiel in a big flouncy gold dress dancing in the rehabilitated ballroom of the Winchester mansion, because if you try to tell me there's not a ballroom in the bunker somewhere or other you're lying.)

Chapter Text

Castiel is among the army of heaven that marches on the citadel of the demon Alastair. Hell is a pit of depravity, a necessary place of punishment for sinners, but sometimes a demon goes so far beyond the pale that they cannot be allowed to continue, and Alastair is one such. When tales of his tortures reach heaven, the Host decides he must be expunged. The battle is fierce, and what they find within the walls is even more horrifying that rumor suggested, but Alastair is defeated and permanently banished to the realms beyond.

The surviving angels, Castiel among them, search the entire complex for victims, accomplices, and traps. In the deepest dungeons, dark until the light of Castiel's grace falls upon them, he hears desperate whimpers and moans that draw him to the dankest, most isolated cell.

Within, an emaciated incubus frantically uses his tail to stimulate himself, a hand wrapped around his erection. Whatever his intentions, his actions aren't helping, for he sobs in abject misery. Castiel's light falls on the demon. He expects an attack, a snarl of rage, a lashing out. Instead, sunken eyes open over hollowed cheeks and the demon rasps, "help me."

Castiel never thought he would be moved by the suffering of a demon but he could weep for the plight of this one.

Unsure how to proceed, he waits and watches while the creature continues to masturbate, continues to sob, continues to beg. Finally, he decides. He can't slay such a pitiful monster, nor can he abandon in him here to starve to death. The incubus needs help, succor, support, and though he shouldn't, Castiel wants to give that aid, wants to heal, wants to...

...his penis twitches...

...wants to touch, wants to answer that pleading voice.

So he enfolds the incubus in grace, sheaths his sword, and returns to his commander.

"I claim this creature as my slave," he says, the only condition under which he can bring the incubus to heaven and care for him.

The decision troubles him. Surely, it borders on insanity, and it is unbecoming for an angel such as he to be influenced by his libido in such a matter. But they return to heaven together, and Castiel gets the incubus comfortable in his guest room, and...

...and he has no idea what to do next.

He offers the incubus, who seems beyond communicating any information other than his desperation for touch, food, water, all manner of sustenance.

Nothing helps, and the demon remains fixated on self-stimulation. Has agonizing as his need is to watch, it's also alluring, and Castiel can't help but watch, can't help but be aroused. As he grows hard, the incubus' eyes open, unfocused, and he sniffs the air. "Yes, yes - please!" 

The incubus needs contact, stimulation, arousal.

How obvious that should have been!

So against his better judgement, Castiel approaches, withdraws his penis, and masturbates to the soft moans the incubus leaks, masturbates watching the incubus work his tail into his own anus, work his hand over his erection. When Castiel finally comes, splattering the creature's belly with come, the demon gasps, doubles over, moans in bliss, and climaxes - the first orgasm Castiel has seen him achieve. His eyes open, glowing stunning green, and a hint of color finally returns to his pallid cheeks.

Well, now Castiel knows what the incubus needs.

It's a good thing refractory time is a non-issue for an angel.

"More," the incubus begs, and Castiel is powerless to deny him. That troubles him - demons are monsters, he shouldn't be strengthening this one, shouldn't want him, shouldn't heal him - but there's something about the pathetic incubus that draws him, that makes him think that what he's doing is only right. The incubus is still too weak to move, so Castiel masturbates again, and when his next climax heals the incubus, further, as the incubus glows under the accompanying surge of Castiel's grace, they finally come together. In the uncountable hours that follow, they pleasure each other in every conceivable way, with soft touches and gentle thrusts and sultry mouths. The demon is so pliant, so open, so grateful, his begging replaced by fervent thanks whispered like reverent prayers. By the time the incubus finally falls asleep, peaceful, flushed, so content he's virtually purring, in Castiel's arm, he can no longer imagine that anything he's done could possibly be wrong.

When they awaken, hours or days later, the incubus has thinned again, but is coherent enough to share that his name is Dean, and to offer a semblance of consent, before he is mounting Castiel again, straddling him, riding him with his eyes shut. As they begin they're second marathon sex session, Castiel finally has the brain to think.

He thinks how Dean's eyes glow with every infusion of come-driven grace.

He thinks how Dean begs, pleads, asks, waits for permission.

He thinks about the horrors he saw in Alastair's Citadel, the creatures created by knife and magic, so twisted they could never survive and had to be put out of their misery.

He thinks about Dean, an apparent demon, never lashing out, never angry, only starved and desperate and suffering.

He thinks about what his grace does to demons, even incubi - what his grace isn't doing to Dean.

He thinks about the scars growing more prominent on Dean's torso the more he heals, showing white against skin that's regaining a healthy pink.

He thinks, and he thrusts into that delicious body, and he soars with arousal at every moan, every plea, every expression of gratefulness.

Because the longer they do this, the more certain he becomes - that Dean isn't a demon, he's another victim of Alastair, one subjected to torture, mutilation, isolation.

Castiel isn't nurturing the enemy.

He's healing a victim - probably the most pitiful, agonized survivor of the deepest, darkest pit in all of hell.

The longer Castiel and Dean are together, the more Castiel gets to know Dean as more than a sexual object, the more Dean heals and gains weight, the more Dean communicates the more brightly Dean's soul glows. If a demon is the twisted remnant of a human, then Dean is a demon of a sort, but his spirit hadn't broken no matter what Alastair did to him. He'd been isolated in that dungeon for weeks, deprived of the sexual stimulation that, as an incubus, he required, and every day Alastair had come to him, asked if he was prepared to take what he needed, and everyday Dean had spat in his face, until Castiel arrived and saved him.

The maintain the front that Dean is Castiel's slave, and there are dark whispers about why an angel would keep an incubus as a slave, but Castiel doesn't care what strangers think of him - especially when, by some definitions, they're right. He and Dean have a lot of sex, because it's necessary for Dean to remain healthy, and because it's truly, spectacularly enjoyable. With his full strength returned, Dean is an...extremely...eager bottom, adroit with his prehensile tail, and has the coordination to also use his hands. Castiel dares any of his brethren to say no to a consenting partner who can be penetrated, penetrate, and massage sensitive wings at the same time.

The orgasms are...monumental.


Occassionally literally; Castiel bursts with so much grace that if Dean didn't absorb most of it, they're climaxes would likely damage earth. (Instead they just cause really gorgeous, scientifically baffling Aurora borealis.)

And then signs start to speak of the apocalypse...

...and Castiel reads some prophecies...

...and Dean talks about his brother Sam...

...and Castiel realizes that Dean is the righteous man, and that together, and only together, they can avert the end of the works...

...and some of the host decides to move against Castiel and his "pet" demon...

...and some of the host sides with him...

...and some stays neutral...

...and there is war, in hell, in heaven, on earth...

...and Cas and Dean continue to have, like, an utterly inhuman amount of sex.

(And all's well in the end because there's gotta be a happy ending.)

Chapter Text

Omega Castiel is happy with his alpha husband Michael Viceory, a business man who frequently travels for work. He has a seemingly perfect life - wealth, leisure, freedom - until he gets a text from an unknown number. "Hi, my name is Dean Viceroy-Winchester, and I think you're married to my husband." Or: the story of omega Dean and Omega Cas uniting against the liar living a double life, making his life miserable, and riding off into the sunset together.

Chapter Text

Vampire Benny's favorite blood is alpha, blood type A, as modified specifically during coitus with an omega - a unique cocktail of pheromones and hormones and stuff. And so for a long time, he'd seek out such victims and try to catch them unaware, but that's a pain in the tail so finally he decides, why not just manufacture a situation that guarantees what he wants?

Which is where Dean and Cas come in.

He finds them, stalks them, sniffs them, and finally abducts them. He locks them in a wing of his suitably plush and New Orleans style Vampire Mansion (tm), doses Cas to hell and back with heat inducers, and let's nature take its course. While of course it's non-con for Cas too, Dean is more rape victim in the traditional "assaultee" sense when Cas jumps him, attacks Dean until he gets what he needs, and makes Dean knot him. That's when Benny comes in to feed. Dean thinks the bite is to mate him but really the goal is to make him a permanent feeding thrall, enthralled, unquestioning, obedient, desperate, an all-you-can-eat vampire buffet for Benny’s ideal, delicious meal.

In order to get Dean where he wanted him, heat-crazed Cas bound him to a breeding bench, which means a lovely ass up in the air for Benny to fill with his enormous dick, and since Dean just knotted Cas, and his being rocked by alpha orgasms, he climaxes again every time he's fucked into, and when he's bit. Cas, at least while drugged, feels awesome and thinks this is about the best ever. His humping back against Dean is part of the overstimulation cocktail making Dean delirious with bliss, unable even to hold onto the repulsion and pain that the nature of the sexual encounter originated with.

Dean is so scrumptious that Benny maybe gets a bit over eager - especially since Benny fucking him is tearing anal skin, and causing bleeding, and Benny stalked these two specifically cause they smell so good, and the entire set of smells is driving him so wild that he can't stop himself from bleeding Dean more than he means to, and Dean passes out.

When Dean wakes up, it's to a more rational Cas (because all that sex temporarily sated the heat) who is weeping and confused. Benny is gone but man does Dean hurt, and the two have a little time to talk and try to figure out wtf is going on.

(Benny was kinda punch drunk when he left on delish Dean blood and didn't think to separate them...and when nothing bad comes of leaving them together, Benny lets them be together afterward, too.)

The time together starts to build a bond between Dean and Cas, but it doesn't get far before Cas' heat crests again, and they're having sex again, and Benny is back, and Cas is also lapping up Dean's blood, and it feels that fanfic non-con perfect balance of awful-and-amazing.

After the second time, which also ends with unconsciousness for Dean, time ceases to mean anything. He's not sure when he eats or goes to the bathroom, such normal things have no place in the reality of sex and more sex that their lives have become. Benny is struggling with self control cause this is so much better than he'd expected, and he keeps dosing Cas, and after a few days, decides to induce rut for Dean, too, which makes Dean even more delicious

In the few lulls this treatment leaves Dean and Cas, they plot to escape. But it’s getting harder to imagine leaving. Because Cas and Dean were always scent compatible (that's why Benny picked them, after all) they are getting increasingly scent bonded despite the non con at the foundation of their liaisons. Being apart for even a few minutes while their drug induced states continue is becoming impossible without biological side effects. Meanwhile, despite his intellectual horror, Dean is growing increasingly addicted to the feeling of being fucked while fucking, and of being drained of blood during it. The vampiric feeding makes him light headed, dizzy, euphoric, and when he's a hair from passing out sex is just beyond incredible. Despite his rationality still wanting this to end, when he's mid coitus, with Cas squirming and begging beneath him, and Benny's hugeness fucking into him, and Benny's teeth in his neck, he just wants it to keep going and going.

That Cas can't seem to keep from licking at his bite wounds, nipping away the scabs even when Benny isn't there, just increases how bound the two are to each other, and how good everything feels. If they go even an hour or two without fucking Dean starts to get the shakes like an addict.

(There's no mpreg danger. Benny wants permanent blood stock, not babies, so Cas' drugs include birth control)

In the end it's Cas who saves them, Cas who is better able to think and act because despite the meds, he's still rational whenever his heat passion is stoked. He's not being weakened and made delirious by blood loss, not being regularly fucked into unconsciousness. Further, biological imperative increasingly demands that Cas protect and defend the alpha that, after so many weeks/months/idk it's a long time, his body says is mate . After so much evidence, despite early disbelief, it's obvious that Benny is a vampire. So Cas recalls every urban legend he knows, decides to chance them being real, makes a stake from part of the bed frame, and stakes the fucker while he's still knotted to Dean. That prevents Benny from moving, and with Dean helpless, mewling, rocking back against Benny's cock, throbbing veins right there for the feeding, Benny can't resist the delicious, and his knot doesn't go down for hours.

Or, in fact, until after sunrise. When Cas throws back the curtains and throws sunlight onto them both, and Benny incinerates. 

By then, Dean is nearly dead, he's been bled so badly. Cas moves them to another area of the house - at least they can have a change of scenery after so long - and takes a few days to nurse Dean back to health while the drugs work out of their systems. Of course, this involves more sex, and it becomes clear, Dean is addicted in truth, where Cas isn't. Whenever they go long without sex or Dean goes long without being bled, he gets feverish, sick, vomiting and, if Cas doesn't help, convulsing. Cas is no doctor, but he fears for Dean's life, and they can't possibly go to a real doctor. Vampires are make believe - they'll end up institutionalized, and separated, and that's beyond unthinkable. So Cas does the only thing he can, having sex with Dean, keeping him on a low dose of rut inducer, and drinking from his unhealed wounds. Dean also weeps frustration when they fuck though, now struggling to come without the additional stimulation of a cock in his ass

It's bad.

And yet so so good.

And more time passes as Cas tries to stabilize Dean. A regular food delivery brings groceries to the doorway, paid for fuck knows how, and no one investigates, nothing goes wrong, and Cas realizes...they can just stay here. Live in a mansion instead of returning to their old lives. Rely on Benny's fortune, effectively stealing his identity (Benny had a lot automated with auto-debit, especially once Dean and Cas arrive, because he was addicted to Dean, too). With care and succor, Dean gets more functional, and they improvise and purchase increasingly satisfying dildos for Dean to fuck back on, and at some point when they're both totally lost in lust Dean delivers a mating bite, and him drinking Cas' blood becomes a feature of their sex lives too, and sometimes when they get desperate and horny Cas will break into Benny's old stash of heat inducer and they'll spend days in frantic fucking.

The whole experience fucked them both up right good, but they're happy, they're together, they're provided for, they're assumed dead by the world at large...

...its fucked up, busted, sick, abnormal, but neither wants anything more any longer.

Oh and in all the above there would absolutely be at least one dping Cas scene, and a dping Dean scene, and Benny'd bottom, and there'd be vamp Benny getting his blood fix by rimming Dean after fucking him bloody, and there'd be oral knotting, and...yeah. so much sex. So much.


(If the MCD isn't okay you can pretend that thanks to Stockholm Syndrome and the drugs and the blood feeding, Cas and Dean come to find everything about this normal and right and essential and the threesome fuck their way to oblivion at least once every night until kingdom come.)

Chapter Text

When Castiel first hears of the idea, he thinks it's kinda nuts - why would anyone make a retreat specifically for unattached alphas and omegas to bang like crazy and then go their separate ways? He's always kind of dreamed of the full package - scent compatibility, true mates, an exchange of bites, a bunch of pups, a white picket fence - and not only won't that happen with some strange omega he meets at a Heat Retreat, if he starts hooking up with random omegas, it'll materially damage his chances with any omega.

Won't it?

But as he gets older, and his life gets busier, and his prospects get dimmer, it starts to make more sense to him. When everything is complicated, a Heat Retreat is simple. No strings attached. Minimal fiscal commitment. A guarantee of one awesome week with an omega who really needs the companionship - a guarantee, also, that said omega has fully consented, is on birth control, and won't come knocking on his door ever again.

So, staring down 40, horny, and in desperate need of a vacation, Castiel turns to the internet, does some research, and finally settles on L'Amor Spa, a secluded mountain hotel specializing in Heat Retreats with excellent reviews. The vetting process is rigorous, but Castiel never has any doubt of his being accepted - he knows he's a catch, which is part of why it's frustrating that no one has wanted to stick around.

The first month after his acceptance, Castiel isn't called in, but week 6, he gets a collection of dossiers - the omegas who've been accepted for the following week - and an open invitation that he'd be welcome.

He accepts.

The Heat Retreat is...heady. There are maybe 30 omegas, all in heat or on the verge of being in heat. All have gone through an acceptance process similar to Castiel's - including a tour, full disclosure, a sign off on paperwork, and a chance to pre-approve or reject alphas invited during their heat week. The set up walks a fine line to make sure that, despite the mildly dubious consent inherent in an omega having sex during heat, everything is essentially consensual. Even if an omega walks into the dining room, drops trow, and presents, it's with the understanding that everyone involved has said such behavior is a-ok, and that every alpha around also knows the score, and everyone is clean, and there's no danger to anyone involved.

30 desperate, horny omegas.

A roughly equal number of alphas, also desperate and horny, if for different reasons.

Picking is...challenging.

But one omega catches Castiel's eye - and his nose, man, that is a lovely scent of wood smoke - and the feeling is apparently mutual, because Castiel no sooner turns to get a better look when the omega is on him, nipping at his neck, ripping at his shirt, tugging at his belt. They're in the lobby, and Castiel can barely spare a thought for maybe we should try for some privacy before the man is on him, and Castiel is in him, and holy shit, it feels amazing . This is exactly what Castiel needed, exactly what he came here for. They end up knotted in the lobby, though at one point a couple beta staff members come by and erect some courtesy privacy curtains, and when they're finally unbound the omega takes Castiel by the tie, drags him up to a plush room with an amazing view, and they hardly leave it for the next five days.

This is exactly the kind of thing the Heat Retreat is designed for. Food is delivered to their room, fresh towels are left at the door, the bedside drawer seems to provide a never ending supply of condoms (which they sometimes use, and sometimes not, with no particular rhyme or reason to when they do or don't), the spa tub is big enough for both of them to soak out the aches and pains of vigorous sex, and basically, by the time the omega's heat is done, and Castiel's week is up, he's prepared to say it's the best vacation he's ever had, and then some.

The omega's name is Dean.

That's about the only piece of personal information Castiel managed to learn about him, and he didn't get to share much more himself. Dean's heat was intense, and Dean was intense, and when they weren't having marathon sex, they were mostly sleeping, not sharing their life stories.

That's how the system is supposed to work, but Castiel must admit, as he's driving away, the Retreat dwindling in his rear view mirror, that he wouldn't have minded knowing more about the guy, and maybe even seeing him again.

It's about five weeks before Castiel gets the call again, and given the point he's at in his career, it's not too difficult for him to rearrange things so that he can attend again. He's eager to meet some new omegas, see if he clicks with anyone - anticipation burns almost like rut in his veins in the last few days before he leaves. That anticipation flares to full on, mouth-watering passion when he discovers that:

  1. Dean is there again.
  2. Dean had as positive a first experience together as Castiel did, at least judging by the way Dean's nostrils flare the moment their eyes meet across the opening greeting ceremony. 

Before Castiel can even scent the many omegas there he's never met, Dean has homed in like a damn missile, seizing the lapels of Castiel's trenchcoat and hauling him to the elevator.

They're half-knotted before they reach the 15th floor, where Castiel's room is.

The beta staff step over Dean's bared back, turn a key to turn the elevator off so it won't answer more calls, and put a velvet rope over the door, mounted with a sign that says "Out of order."

The only difference between this time and the first time is that this time, they hardly leave Castiel's room instead of Dean's room, and this time they manage to have a couple sleepy conversations - Dean's apparently some kind of mechanic, which explains his exquisite musculature, so much hard work, and Castiel manages to get in edgewise that he's the CFO for his family's corporation.

He regrets leaving more this time, when the week is over.

The moment Castiel gets the third invite, he's already hoping that Dean will be there, and his hopes aren't disappointed. They skip the opening ceremony. There's nothing happening there that matters, nothing whatsoever that compares to how badly Dean's heat is already dizzying him, how desperately he needs Castiel, and how desperately Castiel wants to satisfy those needs. Though they're still basically strangers, it's bizarrely comfortable to sink into Dean's bed, his bathtub, his wet, desperate hole. They're well matched, but they also both play by the rules.

No full names.

No strings attached.

No personal details that would enable one to track down the other.

The organizers understand that people might find a mate at the retreats, but they also understand how open to suggestion and influence omegas are during their heats. The only condition under which personal information is shared is if both individuals, separately and not in consultation with each other, indicate to the organizers that they'd like to get to know the other outside the Retreats. That helps guarantee the safety of all parties, and while Castiel considers - more than once - giving the organizers the green light to share his personal information with Dean should Dean request it, at the same time...he likes where they're at. He likes how relaxed it is, that it's a vacation. It's like having the fun sexy part of a relationship without an iota of the actual work, and while he has always enjoyed the dating aspect, too, he's finding he likes this more than he'd anticipated.

He likes Dean way, way more than he anticipated.

But, then...they do have really good sex. And really, what else does Castiel know about Dean, other than how nice he smells, and the noises he makes when he's sated, and the desperate way he begs when he's riding Castiel four days into a heat, and the gentleness of his expression when he finally slips into comfortable easy sleep, and...

...and Castiel really shouldn't let himself think too much about that kind of thing, or he might get too tempted.

Things go on like this for the better part of a year, until the time when Castiel gets the invite...and he can't go.

The dates overlap the family's corporate board meeting. Skipping is completely, utterly inconceivable. By this point, Castiel is convinced that it's no coincidence that he and Dean are always scheduled at the same time, and he's 90% sure Dean will be there. The idea of letting Dean down feels like tearing his heart out; the idea that some other alpha will knot Dean in Castiel's place enrages him enough that he can't help but bare his canines just thinking about it, but there's no help for it. So, with a heavy heart, Castiel RSVPs no, while making clear that he's still very much interested in attending in the future and that circumstances simply don't allow him to this specific once. He regrets saying no the instant the e-mail is sent, regrets it that night as he takes the redeye for the board meeting, regrets it as he sits through hour upon hour of boring meeting, regrets it as he gives his presentation. The board meeting is four of five days done - and the Heat Retreat is three days done - and Castiel is already idly wondering if, his presentation done, maybe he could ditch the last day and make the trip to the Retreat when his phone rings.

It's the first time anyone from the Retreat has called him since he finished the vetting process.

Concern immediately tightening his chest, he answers. It's Dean, they explain. He's heat delirious, and while almost every alpha present - everyone not already coupled off with another omega - has offered, has let Dean scent them, has even tried to lay hands on Dean, Dean has shaken them all off, begging for Castiel.

Castiel is moving before they've even finished explaining. His fingers fly over the keyboard, looking for flights to where the retreat is; his mind composes the e-mail he'll have to send his family. He's in California, and the Retreat is in Pennsylvania, and it's damn near record time that he's there, door to door, in less than 12 hours, but knowing that Dean is upset? Knowing that Dean needs him, and only him? 

It feels like a fucking lifetime .

Castiel doesn't even make it through the open doorway before Dean is on him (the staff cordone off that section of hallway), tearing at his pants, sobbing as he sinks down onto Castiel's dick. He's incoherent but his desperation, his need, comes through in every garbled word. Castiel can only wonder - when he's capable of thinking at all - how he ever convinced himself there were no strings attached in this relationship. Dean obviously didn't feel that way - no other alpha would do - and considering his own behavior over the previous year, Castiel can't begin to pretend he's not considered himself "taken" from the first time they had sex.

The next morning, after staying up all night giving Dean what he needed over and over and over, and having the satisfaction of seeing Dean finally resting easy and relaxed, Castiel goes to the organizers and tells them he's more than willing for Dean to have his contact information, if Dean wants it.

They immediately hand over all of Dean's information.

Apparently, Dean gave his permission after their second time together.

And Castiel just...left him hanging.

How could I have been so stupid?

Dean Winchester, Kansas City, owner of Winchester's Rides, TV personality, expert restorer...heck, Castiel has heard of him, he's that well known, but he's never actually seen the show that Dean and his brother Sam co-host, or he might have recognized him.

Bemused, furious with himself, Castiel makes his way back up to their room, and finds Dean sitting up on the bed, wild-eyed, tear streaked.

"I thought you left. Or that you were never here - that I imagined it, all of it, that you'd come, that the room smelled like you, that you'd knotted me...sometimes I fucking wonder if I've always imagined you...and you never wanted me back, even though I told them I’d love to meet you outside the retreats, and...I don’t understand you. I don’t know what to think."

"No, Dean - I'm real, and I'm here, and I'm so so sorry."

This time, they talk a lot.

They talk when Dean curls up, his head in Castiel's lap, their gazes fixed so completely on each other's faces that the rest of the world ceases to exist. They talk when Dean bends over the bed and presents, and they talk in the long minutes before Castiel's knot goes down. They talk when they're both barely awake, when they're both mostly asleep. They can hardly stop talking long enough to rest, to clean up, can hardly bear to be in different rooms long enough to even take a dump in the lavish bathroom.

And they keep talking when the Retreat ends. They text, and they telephone, and they sext, and they Skype. 

When they were on the Retreats, Castiel could never, ever get enough of Dean, and now that they're apart, that's proving ever more true.

And, most wonderfully, Dean can't seem to get enough of Castiel, either.

For the first time - for the only time that matters - that picket fenced perfect life is starting to seem very much in reach - the moreso because Dean clearly wants it too.

Another successful love connection, thanks to L'Amor Spa Heat Retreat!

Chapter Text


Cas has been going through his residencies at a teaching hospital in St. Louis - cycling through the departments. A doctor he's observing walks them through the long term care ward, pointing out a few specific cases he deals with which are in his specialty. The ward is depressing - the patients, mostly comatose or close enough as makes no difference, rest in beds, two to a room, and while some have been made homey by family members, far too many are barren, sterile, wretched. Maybe it doesn't matter - the patients are vegetative, after all - but Cas already knows, he could never go into a field working with patients in such straits - most with little to no hope of ever waking, and many with no loved ones to even check in on them or care, at least apparently, about their recovery. The condition of the people here is tragic. 

They enter the last room on the rotation to talk about Callie Garrison, who the doctor still hopes will make a recovery after she was poisoned as a child, when Cas feels it - searing pain in his arm, his soulmate tattoo manifesting before his tear-blurred eyes. It's not Callie - her arm is over her sheets, pierced by long-term IVs, and so her tattoo would show if it were manifesting - so Cas’ soulmate must be the other patient in the room. Fortunately, he's in the back of the group, so only his classmate Balthazar notices his distress before he masks it. He can't see who else is in the room - a curtain blocks the view of the patient they're not working with - and he resolves to come back at the end of his shift.

Ten hours later, Cas finally makes his way back to Callie's room. The nurses who watch the ward question him as he returns - his badge doesn't work when he's not on shift - but as soon as he explains the situation they let it slide. It's unorthodox, and yeah, they'd get in trouble if they got caught, but the nurses seem especially willing to accommodate when they find out who he's going to see - Nurse Barnes mutters darkly about how it's about time someone took an interest, without elaborating - and Cas starts to understand why when he arrives at the room and reviews the medical records stored in a folder wall-mounted beside the door. Callie's roommate is a Jane Doe, age unknown but estimated to be between 25 and 30. She was found severely beaten, with excessive head trauma, in a back alley in a bad part of town. She had no identification and if there was a criminal investigation, her medical records say nothing about it. There's no mention of any effort being made to identify her beyond the basics, either - no fingerprint in the system, no person matching her description reported missing - and it looks like basically no one cares that Jane Doe is still breathing. Cas peruses the file, pain tightening his chest, surprise tinging his judgement - his soulmate is a woman? Really? - and then goes in to the room. Callie's room shows signs of familial affection - a pink quilt, her hair combed and clean, correct size magenta pajamas on her, a favorite stuffed toy tucked beside her - but Jane Doe's half of the room feels...dead.

Drawing the curtains to give Callie her privacy, Cas takes his first look at Jane Doe. She's...unkempt. Cared for, at least minimally - the nurses are competent and wouldn’t neglect a patient - but her hair has grown out and is a mess; her clothing is only hospital wear; and there's not a single personal item, not even a thread of whatever she arrived at the hospital in. She could be anyone, or no one, and she's been in a coma for 4 years and 103 days, according to her file. Taking a deep breath - feeling skeevy, though he's not sure what else he can do - Cas draws the blanket back, reveals her arm, and rolls his own sleeve up.

The marks match - a Rod of Asclepius, wrapped around with briars, pierced by thorns, but still vibrantly colored against Cas' tanned skin, and even more so against Jane Doe's thin, white forearm. That's as much of her as he's prepared to expose, until he notices something weird.

She's flat.

Not just small breasted, but flat, masculine, even, and while sure, there are women like that - anyone living on IV nutrition for years is going to lose most of their fatty tissue - but still, it catches his attention, and after a long internal debate, he decides to violate his own sense of decorum, move her robes aside, expose her, and investigate her chest.

Two long, perfect incisions mark the skin beneath her nipples. There was nothing in the records to indicate mutilation to that area during the assault, or any other medically necessary reason for breast removal to have been done as part of helping her... not her...recover from their assault.

Not Jane Doe.

John Doe. He's had top surgery, and judging by the healing of the scars, probably not long before he was attacked. 

Relief floods Cas - of course his soulmate isn't a woman; fate is capricious but he's never heard of an instance where someone was soulmarked to be with someone of a gender they weren't attracted to. 

His soulmate is a trans man.

Anger floods Cas - because there was no note whatsoever on the medical file that John Doe had had top surgery, no indication or acknowledgement of what was obvious to Cas' eyes nigh-instantly. Every doctor and nurse who interacted with John Doe must have seen the same evidence Cas had. Nurse Barnes' comments come back to him, and with the memory comes a slew of questions. Who is the attending? Who are the police on the case? Given the statistics on attacks on trans individuals, surely John Doe being trans is medically and criminally relevant, so why is it not acknowledged in his file, and why is nothing being done?

Well, if the attending wouldn’t do anything, and the nurses couldn’t do anything, then Cas would.

He checks in with the nurses - "from now on, can we call him John Doe, and use either male or neutral pronouns?" - and gets an approving nod from Nurse Barnes and an indifferent shrug from Nurse Masters. He returns to the room, pulls out his phone, loads Kindle, sits at the bedside, and reads to John Doe for the next two hours, until fatigue burns grit in his eyes and his next shift at the hospital is in mere hours, and only then does he make his tired way home.

He doesn't sleep.

Whenever he gets close, his thoughts spin curiosity and anxiety and fury at John Doe's situation. After the first hour tossing and turning to no avail, he sits up, turns on the light, gets his laptop, and starts to research. Soon, he's well acquainted with the public details of the case, scant as they are. A police blotter noted the attack, the unconscious...person...found at 6 AM the next morning, attack presumed to take place a little after last call. Witnesses at a local bar - a queer bar, Cas thinks, reading between the lines - agree that Doe was there, but none knew them, and none could say much beyond that they'd left in the company of several men who also weren't regulars. Still reading between the lines, Cas thinks he catches hints of prostitution, but it's impossible to say for sure. The piece is accompanied by a sketch of Doe - at the time of the attack, the drawing suggests, their hair was close cropped, their cheeks scruffy, their features fairly masculine. Probably taking T, in high doses, Cas thinks. The drawing ran for the next week, along with a hotline number to call if anyone recognized the individual in question, and after that...there's nothing.

It's little enough to go on.

But Cas grew up in the foster system, paid his way through college, fought tooth and nail to get into medical school, and he is nothing if not tenacious.

His life takes on a new rhythm in the weeks that follow. He still has 12 hour shifts at the hospital, still works his residency and his internship, still has an online teaching gig that helps pays the bills, but now when he's not working or asleep, he's either at John Doe's bedside or he's researching, following leads, pestering the police, and doing whatever he can to force the incident out of the cold case files. He reads to John Doe every day, and though he's probably imagining it, he can't help thinking that Doe's features look more relaxed, his breathing easier, his skin a slightly healthier shade of pink. He cleans Doe up, combs his hair, looks into getting him a haircut to match the photo in the newspaper, brings some color and life into his room. He argues with the attending doctor until he gets the douche bag to at least acknowledge the top surgery, and add it to the official file, and report it to the police. With that information, the police are able to tie the attack to several other similar ones - they'd thought it unrelated because the others had also all been against trans men - and it turns out the men responsible had been arrested two years ago, and were currently awaiting trial. The DAs file some additional charges, adding John Doe to the list of victims, but nothing provides additional information to help figure out Doe's identity - if the men are guilty, they aren't talking, and so whatever information Doe might have shared with them and that they remember is inaccessible.

His own research has more success - too much success, frustratingly. The Midwest abounds with disowned trans children; too many families broken, too much unreasonable hate. Cas follows lead after lead, only to have them come up with nothing - the person has been found, alive or dead, or the pictures don't match, or the details are wrong, or, or, or. It's maddening. Doe had top surgery, for fuck's sake, there must be some information about him somewhere .

It takes him six months to convince Nurse Barnes to violate HIPAA with him.

Okay, that's selling her short.

It takes Nurse Barnes six months to convince him to violate HIPAA with her .

And finally, by doing a general search of electronic medical, they get some solid leads. Only so many people in the state - in the entire country - had top surgery during the window when John Doe must have, and armed with that list, Cas is able to finally make some solid inroads. It takes weeks to investigate every name and determine the current status of each individual, but when he’s finally done, Cas has a list of only a half-dozen names that could be the right person, a manageable number, and he sets about, in what spare time he has, knocking them off the list.

Yet, for all that, if he'd only had that list he'd not have succeeded - he's not able to find three of the people on it, all identified by what are presumably their dead names: Hannah White, Raphaela Johnson, and Deanna Winchester - and he'd have failed if not for message boards and online groups he'd joined as part of his search.

"Lost: One Sibling," the topic reads, and while Cas often skips such posts - they're so depressing, so hopeless, and he can't help - the username (WinWinLoseChester) draws him to check this one, because it tickles something in the back of his mind, reminds him of a name on his list.

"I don't know if this is the place to post this, but my sibling has been missing for 5 years, and at this point I'll try anything." The post goes on to discuss the sibling in question, always using carefully gender-neutral language, and by the end...well, Cas isn't certain, he's been certain of nothing about John Doe except his gender in all the months he's investigated...but he's convinced enough that WinWinLoseChester’s sibling might be John Doe to follow up. He private messages WinWinLoseChester, and they agree to meet at a public place - with apologies that an adult will also be present cause it turns out he's underage.

Cas' biggest regret, as he takes a long weekend, is that he won't be able to visit John Doe's bedside for the next few days. In the almost year since he found his soulmate, he's spent at least an hour with Doe everyday, and while maybe it's a delusion that it helps Doe, it certainly helps Cas - to process his soulmate's state, to fall in love in many small, strange little ways, to know he's doing what he can to care for at least one poor soul forsaken by most of the world. If this lead doesn't pan out, Cas isn't sure where he'll turn to next, and the time will have been lost for nothing. 

But if it does pan out...

He doesn't let himself think too far down that path. He doesn't want to get his hopes up.

He meets up with WinWinLoseChester - Sam, he says his name is in their online messages - at a Starbucks in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, under the watchful eye of a guardian who tersely introduces himself as Bobby - and can hardly find the words. Stammering, tripping over his tongue even just trying to say his name, he just holds out two pictures: the police sketch from the newspaper right after the attack, and a photograph Cas took yesterday. One shows Doe as masculine, the more recent far more feminine, though as emaciated as Doe had become, it would still be hard for even a loved one to identify him...and Sam takes the pictures, struck as silent as Cas is as he stares with wide eyes.

"That'" Bobby grunts. "That's Deanna to a tee."

Deanna? No - that's a woman's name, a dead name...but Bobby didn't say she, when he could maybe the family is okay with Doe being trans, and maybe...

"Yes," breaths Sam. "You found him! You found my brother!" And Bobby nodded.

"Yup. That's...him."

...oh, thank god. At least I haven't found family that will do nothing but hurt him again.

Sam wants to leave immediately, to hop in a car and drive to St. Louis pronto - even threatens to pick Bobby's pocket to do it, since Sam is 17 and has his license, and from Bobby's long-suffering sigh, it wouldn't be the first time that Sam had done so - but Bobby and Cas manage to convince him to wait. They don't know each other, not yet, and there are steps that need to be taken for the safety of each of them, and for Doe's - Dean, Sam names his brother, though Cas doesn't know for sure if that's the name Doe chose for himself, as similar to his dead name as it is, or if it's just the male alternative that Sam alit on - there are proper channels to follow, protocol to observe, and still so much work to do.

They also have to cover Cas' tracks and come up with a convincing story for how they found each other, since Cas wouldn't have joined those chat groups if he hadn't gotten the names from HIPAA, and wouldn't have thought to follow up with Sam if not for the similarities in names. They have to talk to the police, and the hospital, and all the while try to get to know each other and figure out if they can trust each other.

Basically, it's a mess, despite the relief that Cas has finally succeeded, after looking for so long.

Over the next couple days, while Cas crashes on Bobby's couch ("there's no way you're staying at a hotel!" protests Sam, while Bobby gives Cas a glare that promises that if he tries anything Bobby will shoot him without a single qualm), they learn of each other. Sam tells a sad story, a mother who died when he was a baby, an older sibling who wanted to be the perfect older sister but was always also trying to find themselves, a father who didn't want a daughter, but instead wanted a surrogate wife. Dean played Sam's mother and sister for years, and in high school when he started trying to show his true identity, his father ruthlessly and brutally quashed that before the school bullies in Lawrence even got the chance. The abuse got back to CPS, but not before Dean ran away from home at 17. For a couple years, John Winchester tried to get his act together, but when he killed himself after wrapping his car around a tree - drunk off his ass to boot - Sam was kicked into the foster system. On that topic, Sam and Cas bond, since they'd both spent years in it, and the only substantive difference in their experiences was the outcome. Sam found Bobby, who had actually been an army buddy of John's, and Bobby fought with CPS until Sam could stay. Cas had never found a home, and had aged out of the system, and had his share of unpleasant stories that he dragged forth with great difficulty in an effort to build a rapport.

Dean had run away at 17.

Almost 10 years later, after endless searching whenever he could, this is the first the Sam has heard of his brother.

No wonder he wanted to drive to St. Louis immediately.

Bobby convinces him to wait until Saturday - Cas arrived on Thursday - so that Sam won't miss school, and Sam reluctantly agrees - mostly because measures like school attendance and good grades are one of many areas that CPS watches to make sure that Bobby is being a good foster parent, and the last thing either of them want - or Cas, for that matter, Bobby's an over-protective bear of a man and Cas already kind of adores him for it - is for Sam to be taken away. Over beers on Friday night, long after Sam has gone to bed, Bobby laments that he didn't realize how bad John was fucking his kids up, and who gave a shit if Dean was Deanna or Dean or someone else entirely, he was a good kid, and that Bobby'd'a done something if only he'd known.

Cas has zero reservations about reintroducing the two men into Dean's life.

He hopes they're as sure as him, as confident that Cas is good people, because nothing is taking Cas from Dean's side now.

Thus his thoughts are tending when, around midnight, his phone rings. He's been gone since early Thursday morning, a bit over 36 hours. The caller ID names Nurse Barnes, and fear and panic immediately lance through him.

"Nurse?" he answers.

"Now calm your jets, boy," she scolds, "I can already tell you're not breathing. Your boy is fine...I think he's fine--"

"I'll drive back right now!"

That earns a shocked look from Bobby.

"Don't think that's necessary...don't know for sure I guess...I just thought you should know..."


"He's crying."

Stunned, Cas stares at the tabletop, trying to process how that can even be possible. "Huh?"

"John Doe--"

"Dean. His name is Dean." I think. I hope.

" Dean's crying."

He's been completely unresponsive for years, and the first night I'm gone since we met...the first night I'm not sitting there, holding his hand, reading to him...

But it has to be a coincidence...

"Figured...that was kinda a thing, right?" The Nurse's confident smile is evident through the phone, but Cas can only nod in response, uncommunicative, useless. "Doc Novak?"

"Thank you," Cas mumbles. "I'll come back tomorrow. With his family."

"I think he'll like that, Doc. I think Dean'll like that a lot."

Cas fills Bobby in on the update, and when Bobby asks, "well that's a good thing, right?" Cas can only shake his head, because he has no idea if it's a good thing, or a bad thing, or medically relevant, or if it means anything. Brains were so strange, and comas so unpredictable, that Dean could be vegetative for the next fifty years or he could wake up tomorrow and there was no knowing. With that unreassuring thought, they head to bed to prepare for the next day, but Cas can't sleep again and spends the midnight hours reading up on cases of people unexpectedly recovering from comas. The next day, he drives, exhausted, back to St. Louis and straight to the hospital, Sam and Bobby tailing him all the way. They reconvene in the main lobby, and Cas is left to his own devices while Dean's doctor talks to Sam as presumed next of kin, and then the police talk to them, and then they are shown Dean and make a positive identification, and then - and only then, with their permission - is Cas allowed in to see his soulmate again.

He...hasn't actually explained that part to Bobby and Sam. There hadn’t been time.

He’d been afraid how they’d react.

They stare between Cas' arm, and Dean's arm, and Bobby just rolls his eyes. "Well, that sure explains a shit ton."

Cas shrugs, takes his usual seat, takes Dean's hand, and waits for whatever the hell is going to happen next.

The last thing he expects is the weak, unmistakeable squeeze on his fingers.

Sam is overjoyed to see his brother, Cas is stunned by Dean's new responsiveness, and Bobby is a knowing, protective mother hen constantly hovering in the background. Sam can't miss school, so as loathe as he is to leave, he and Bobby head out on Sunday night, vowing to return to the following weekend, admonishing Cas to take good care of Dean. Over those two days, Dean shows many other small signs that he's finally coming to. He cries again after Cas leaves, and Cas seriously considers petitioning the hospital to let him stay in the room, but he knows they'll never allow it. Sam is already talking about having his brother moved to Sioux Falls, which of course would be most appropriate, but Cas can't leave St. Louis for another six months, until he finishes his education, and even then there's no promise that he'll be able to find a job in Sioux Falls. Texts fly over the week, and Cas hardly knows how he gets through his shifts, so eager he is to return to Dean, to look for more hints of recovery.

The next big one comes Saturday morning, when Sam walks into the room, gives a heartfelt "Hello, Dean," and Dean opens his eyes and his lips shift as though he's trying to speak.

They arrange for him to be moved to a recovery ward.

With Dean awake, Cas confronts a whole new set of challenges. He's known Dean for months, but only as a coma patient, not as an actual human. Dean has just lost years of his life; the last thing he wants, probably, is an unknown soulmate who feels owed something to tie him down. So Cas takes a step back, let's Sam take over, gives Dean space. He feels the absence as a pit in his stomach and a hole in his chest - classic soulmate pining sickness - but comforts himself that Dean surely isn't feeling that also, since Dean never actually "met" him, and that he's doing what's best for Dean. Cas' feelings are anything but fair anyway. He loves a phantom, an apparition he created in his head, an illusion in need of constant care. That's not what Dean needs now. Sam delightedly arranges for Dean to be moved, and never seems to think there might be a problem; it's left to Bobby to point out that Cas is being a "damn idjit" and steamroll over any objection Cas raises as being "the stupidest mumbo jumbo bullshit he ever done heard."

Dean, meanwhile, recovers apace. He's in multiple kinds of therapy, and soon enough, he's able to sit up, lift his arms, speak in a raspy whisper. Cas is happy for every update that Sam and Bobby text him, and ignores the continual suggestions that he should visit. It's not his place. It doesn't feel right.

Dean asks after him, or so Sam reports.

But Cas stays away.

Being apart feels so, so, so wrong...but is so, so, so necessary.

And so a few agonizing months pass.

Until, one Saturday morning when Cas returns, exhausted, from an overnight shift and finds Bobby, Sam and Dean sitting on the welcome mat outside Cas' apartment.

The agony wracking Cas' chest immediately dissipates, and it's all he can do not to reach out, embrace, touch, and only knowing that consent has never been given stops him.

He's spared holding himself back for long, though, as Dean practically collapses against him.

"I heard you, you fricken dumbass," mumbles Dean. "I heard every stupid-ass story you read, and I swear, if we don't get some real books on your fucking Kindle, I'm gonna leave and not come back."

"Like what?" It's the stupidest, least relevant question Cas can ask, and the only one that will come to him. He's so...relieved, overwhelmed, happy, scared...emotional that he hardly knows what to do with himself.

"Kerouac. Ginsberg. Harry Potter. You know, the classics."

"Anything you want, Dean, anything at all."

Sam doesn't try to make Dean leave again.

Dean gets back on T, and works on finishing his transition.

Cas and Dean talk, endlessly, getting to know each other, getting constant confirmation that fate, as usual, knew exactly what it was about when it paired them off.

Cas finishes his residencies, and he and Dean plan to move to Sioux Falls...only to be pre-empted by Sam announcing he's going to college in St. Louis.

And it's complicated, and it's hard, and it's so, so easy and natural and perfect that Cas can hardly believe it's his life.

(and they build a damn impressive sex toy collection; Dean’s favorite strap on is...indescribable.)

Cas wouldn't change a damn thing.


Chapter Text

Cas and Jimmy have been messing around for years. It started around when they hit puberty, because hey - two horny teen boys, attracted to each other, in the same room...just bros being bros, right? Everyone did shit like that, right? They both hide it under a mask of, “okay maybe this is a little dirty-wrong-bad but we’re just having fun, it’s nothing serious,” and they are both lying their ever-loving asses off. Jimmy is hopelessly in love with his brother. Cas is no less hung up; whenever Jimmy dares to hint at his feelings, Cas puts him off with all the nobility of a martyr. It’s what’s best for both of them, right? So they pursue relationships with other people, but they always gravitate back to each other. They’re completely hands-off if the other isn’t single, but when they’re both flying solo, they fall back into bed with each other. They can’t seem to untangle their lives - neither truly wants to, truly can - so they go to college together, find jobs in the same city, always roommates.

Neither admits that some of those attempted relationships fail because their partner senses there’s someone else - and maybe even suspects who that someone is.

Then Dean enters the picture.

He and Jimmy meet at rock concert. They hit it off well, and exchange contact information, but it never feels like a relationship even as it’s obviously developing into one. To Jimmy it feels more like...having another bro. They meet up for drinks. They mosh in the pit. They play darts. They exchange blow jobs in the bathroom. Just bro shit, at least in Jimmy’s experience. As to Dean...well, Jimmy doesn’t know, and he doesn’t ask, but he notices that Dean’s got a brother he’s damn close to, also, and he thinks there might just be some history there. 

But it’s not a relationship.

Which means Jimmy still messes with Cas.

And also means that Jimmy starts to integrate Dean into his day to day life, as he’s never dared with other partners. It’s not intentional - he doesn’t think it through or plan for it. Just, sometimes lazy blowjobs in the bathroom transform into lazy movie nights at the twins’ place, mutually masturbating as they lounge on the couch. 

And, sometimes, Cas is there.

And it’s all cool, right?

Just bros being bros.

For Dean’s part, he’s convinced he’s monumentally boned. He’s never been much for relationships or love. Waste of time. Too much effort. Except Jimmy is no effort at all, and neither is Cas. They both just seem to get it - that sex can be as casual and fun as eating a meal out or as exhilirating as pressing down the accelerator and letting the wind stream through his hair. It’s no big deal. Whatever he does with Jimmy, it’s fun , and as Cas increasingly joins them, he realizes...that’s just as much fun. Maybe more. Dean’s been involved in his share of orgies, but Jimmy and Cas never have, and he introduces them to all the new possibilities available when there are three dicks and three assholes and three mouths.

He can’t help but notice that the brothers are...very close...and very comfortable with each other’s bodies. Usually when he’s fucked twins - okay, it’s happened twice, not exactly a pattern, but - they focus on him and avoid each other. Not so with the Novaks. They’re all over Dean, and they’re all over each other.

They settle into an easy rhythm, a comfortable fuck-buddy situation. 

Until they don’t.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Cas laughs as he heads to the door. Their pizza is ready for pick up, but Dean is so damn close to coming, and Jimmy is teasing him mercilessly, and that leaves Cas to get the grub, right?

Neither of them notice the tension.

Neither of them notices anything is wrong until nearly an hour later when the pizza joint drops them a line, asking if they’re ever going to come and get their goddamn pizza.

Frantic phone calls and desperate searching follows. Cas as gone AWOL. His car is gone. His drawers in the armoire are empty. He doesn’t answer their texts. Whatever the fuck he’s up to, he’s clearly been planning it for a while. Jimmy sinks immediately into a weird morass of anger and depression. Cas should have talked to him, and maybe they could have figured shit out, but also this is what Cas always does, whenever the brothers are approaching some threshold of emotional intimacy, suddenly Cas is gone - withdrawing, acting like there’s something noble in his self-denial when it’s actual utter douchey cowardice.

For the first few days after Cas disappears, Jimmy and Dean are frantic, worried, and it distracts them from the deeper issues. They search and search, finding nothing. None of their mutual acquaintances know where he went. No one has seen his car. No one knows anything. His phone has been deactivated and removed from the twins’ family plan. Jimmy can’t even bear to be in their apartment. Everything reminds him of Cas, and with Cas gone - truly gone - for the first time in their lives, he’s devastated, verging toward catatonic when insomnia has him up through the night. 

They take to staying at Dean’s place.

And Dean, well, he’s always thought love, in the romantic sense, was total bullshit but the way he feels now has him wondering a little. He doesn’t think he loves Cas, or Jimmy, not in the way other people describe love, but Jimmy’s angst is like a knife twisting in Dean’s stomach, the more agonizing because he can do nothing to alleviate Jimmy’s desolation, and Cas’ absence is like one of his limbs has been torn off.

Slowly, their fear and desperation gives way to vacant, unavoidable acceptance. There’s nothing they can do. There’s no way they can find him. They’re helpless, and all they have is each other and, after a couple weeks, they both find the words to admit…’s not enough.

Without Cas, just the two of them...isn’t right.

I’m not exactly sure how they actually find Cas again - maybe Sam, concerned for his brother, tracks him down, or maybe their mutual friend Charlie accidentally runs into him when she goes to a LARP Conclave in another city, something like that - but when they do track him down, it all comes out.

And...they work it out. It’s not easy - in fact, it’s fucking agony , and by the end of it Jimmy and Cas are both wrecked and Dean is on the verge of remembering all the reasons he thought relationships were way more trouble than their worth.

But then, just as suddenly as it fell falls back together again.

And it’s easy again.

And it’s casual again.

And it’s fantastic again.

But it’s years before either Jimmy or Dean lets Cas be the one to go on the pizza run.

Chapter Text

Zimbits: Double Life

So, Jack’s got a secret, and it’s a whopper. Not that he’s queer - that’s not exactly public, but it’s become kind of a byword in the league - whenever guys trade gossip in their locker rooms, Jack’s name is front and center on that list, and he’s cool with it. Much lower pressure than actually coming out. No, his secret is...much more secret.

He’s a drag queen.

It started as a lark - he was anxious, and depressed, and fresh out of in patient. His hockey career was obviously shot, he’d basically ruined his life, and he just needed to be someone, anyone , else. Not Jack Zimmerman. And so Marissa Kissa was born, and couldn’t be more different than him. While in his makeup and dresses, Jack could be bold and audacious, brave and out , as he never could be in hockey.

The offer to play hockey at Samwell was a shock, and Jack accepted expecting it to come to nothing. He intended to let Marissa go, but he brought a couple costuming pieces to school, just to wear in private, just to keep himself sane in a new environment where he faced expectations…

...Shitty found out the truth in approximately four days…

...and then Jack was Marissa, and Jack, and he’s been both ever since. He knows he should let it go - tells Shitty and Lardo so after every drag show he manages to squeeze in during the off season - but in his heart, he has to admit, he can’t just let it go. It would be like cutting off a limb - Marissa Kissa is part of him, and expressing her is as essential to him as putting himself out on the ice is.

And meanwhile, he’s got a second problem.

So, Bitty’s got a secret. A big one. His figure skating career has been taking off since he moved north, moved away from home, got some friends who accepted him as himself, and got a few good binders. He could pretend to be Erica on the ice, pretend to be the good, hard working girl he’d always been, as long as when he got home he could tuck his hair under a cap, flatten what little chest he had, pack, and know his friends would use the right damn pronouns.

And he really, really wants to transition.

But the status of trans athletes is so in flux, he doesn’t dare. He’s got a real shot at the Olympics this year, but even if he’d started taking T a year he wouldn’t have been able to compete on an international level with the best of men’s figure skating, and if he tries to compete as a woman while taking T, he’ll be accused of doping or something, and anyway, if he starts his transition that means he finally gets to accept that he’s not a woman, and the thought of still having to masquerade as one after he makes the biggest leap of his career turns his stomach.

It’s Ford who suggests he come out to the clubs, Ford who convinces him that even if he’s not transitioned, it’d be okay for him to join the Boston scene openly queer and openly male. It’s Ford who integrates Bitty into her existing friend’s circle like it’s nothing, Ford who introduces him to Lardo and Shitty and many, many others. Erica Bittle is winsome, slight, America’s darling with a million-dollar smile and a costume covered in rhinestones and a ticket to Nationals; Eric Bitty is someone else entirely - Eric Bitty is no one , hunch shouldered, inelegant, in love with baggy shirts and skinny jeans - unrecognizable as his far more public persona.

It’s through Lardo and Shitty that he meets Marissa Kissa.

The attraction is instant.

There’s something eerily familiar about Marissa, Bitty thinks, something in her broad shoulders and the confident glitter in her gorgeous blue eyes. Bitty’s at least passingly familiar with every skater in the country, whether they be figure skaters, hockey players, speed skaters...if they’re known at a national level, Bitty probably knows them, and when he sees Marissa in a glittery jumpsuit, he can swear he’s seen that ass before. 

But he’s admired a lot of guy’s skater butts in his life.

There’s something eerily familiar about Bitty, Jack thinks, something in his blonde hair, and his distinctive dark eyes, and the smooth way he moves, like he’s dancing even when he’s walking. He just can’t put his finger on it.

But he rarely has time to wonder, because as much as he likes Bitty, he can’t risk exposure, and training camp opens in weeks.

Bitty notices when Marissa’s disappearance from the scene coincides with the start of the hockey season, but his own training schedule is ramping up, from three or four hours a day that he squeezes in before a day job to seven, eight, ten hours, so many he can’t stand by the time he collapses into bed at the end of the day.

Ford notices that he’s wearing himself to death, and also notices how often he wistfully talks about missing Marissa, and how many nights he falls asleep with a hockey game on.

Lardo notices a few things, too - that Jack seems sad and troubled and keeps eyeing lithe young blondes, that Bitty has largely disappeared from the scene, that when Ford comes alone she seems frustrated.

The two get to talking.

At first they’re both super careful, noticing who isn’t there, commenting on the absences, stepping around each other like navigating a minefield.

It’s Lardo who snaps first, dragging Ford to a private dressing room “Marissa” uses when doing shows and saying, “okay, I know who I’m protecting, who the fuck are you protecting?”

And it all comes out, that Jack and Bitty’s situations aren’t that different, that both are pining, that neither will ever admit anything because the risks of exposure are just too great.

So they get to plotting.

Meanwhile, though, other events start to outpace them, because after dozing through a few too many post-game interviews, Bitty starts to dream about Jack Zimmermann, and finally one day when he’s not completely flat he does some googling, puts pictures of Jack and Marissa side by side...and he’s sure.

Not that he can act on that.

Nationals are in a week.

Meanwhile, though, Jack’s been thinking a lot about Bitty. Maybe obsessing, just a smidge. He’s certain Bitty’s a dancer, but that doesn’t explain why the face is familiar. Jack doesn’t know jack shit about dancers. But over many a night on the road, and many a morning alone in a hotel room, he lets his thoughts wander on the topic, and realizes...there are dancers he’d recognize, provided they dance on the ice. With that thought foremost, he tunes into the National Figure Skating Nationals. He knows the odds are long, but he hopes that maybe he’ll catch a glimpse of something that jogs his memory, someone in the early rounds of male skaters with a resemblance.

He does not expect to watch Bitty skate to gold, but as soon as he sees Erica Bittle on the ice, he knows , and not just because of the similarities in their names.

They both know.

Neither has any idea what the heck to do with what they know. They both know, too well, the dangers of their respective positions. As much as Bitty likes Marissa, he’s positive the feelings aren’t mutual, and if he really cares for Marissa - and he does, more than he should, he knows - the best thing he can do is say nothing, lay low, and accept that he knows one hell of a secret that no one else can ever, ever find out. And as much as Jack likes Bitty, the last thing the trans man needs is for his secret to come out months before the Olympics.

That Jack will also be at, representing Canada.

Ford and Lardo know better than to plan anything that starts mid-season, but with both men set to go to the Olympics? They are so, so ready, and both there as entourage.

It takes a lot of doing to get Bitty and Jack in the same place, and even more to get them to actually start talking to each other, but once they do?

They both realize they’re idiots.

Because for once, their public personas protect them.

There’s nothing weird about Jack Zimmermann, Stanley Cup Winner, Olympic gold medalist, dating sweet Erica Bittle, darling of America, flag-bearer for the US team, silver medalist. They have a perfect cover, they met at the Olympics, hit it off, fell in love. Their romance quickly becomes the biggest “ awwwww ” moment of the Olympics.

And if, in the bedroom, Bitty puts on a strap on, hikes up Marissa’s skirts, and pegs her into a oblivion?

Well, no one needs to know that but the two of them.

(when they’re careers both settle down a little, of course Bitty will transition, and Jack will officially come out, and post-Hockey he’ll end up a contestant on RuPaul’s Drag Race, which he’ll win, because Jack Zimmermann is not a loser...and the romance that starts as the darling of the entire country ends as the dream of queer young people everywhere, and much fluff and winning.)

Chapter Text

Or, the one where Dean doesn’t know that the coworker he’s crushing on is also his favorite camboy.

Ever since Cas Novak started at Sandover, Dean’s been attracted to him in every sense of the word. Okay, not quite true. Right when Novak first started, Dean thought he was a weirdo, in his thick glasses and over-sized suits and backwards tie. But within a few days of being forced to work together, his dry sense of humor won Dean over, and his face was devilishly handsome, especially when he forgot to be unemotional and distant in a work-appropriate way, and there’d been plenty of hints that the bod beneath that oversized clothing was to. die. for. and yeah Dean had an unhealthy addiction to staring for that stupid one inch of belly that occasionally got exposed when Novak reached up for shit. He felt like a damn chick flick...and he secretly put things he knew Novak needed on a higher shelf, just so he could get a glimpse.

Since long before Cas Novak started at Sandover, Dean had been a regular subscriber to a camboy channel owned by one NaughtyAngel4U. He’d tried a number of live streams with different providers before he’d settled on that one, and now he couldn’t imagine switching. If NaughtyAngel4U ever quit, Dean would cry. The byline on the stream had been, “Big cock angel loves taking big cocks” but that in no way did justice to the marvel that was NaughtyAngel4U. Yeah, Angel was hung like a damn horse, and yeah, Angel took huge dildos into his tight little ass like it was a personal challenge to fuck the largest one he could find, but there was so much more than that - because Angel invested in awesome toys and was clearly a Bad Dragon addict, and because Angel was an expert in self-ties and clearly adored teasing and edging himself, and because Angel was hot as fuck and so sensitive and vocal and responsive that Dean could easily fantasize that he was the only guy watching the live stream, could so automatically invest into the dream that he was actually there, sucking that dick, fucking that hole, being pounded into the mattress, tying up or being tied up.

Of course, he wasn’t delusional. He knew he wasn’t NaughtyAngel’s only client. 

Cas Novak was clearly out of his league - or something. From various hints, Dean was pretty damn sure his coworker is gay, and Dean had dropped several hints that he was interested - subtle enough not to require HR if taken the wrong way, open enough that he couldn’t imagine that Novak had missed them. Indeed, he was almost as sure Novak realized as he was that Novak was gay...and Novak had shot him down. Sometimes, Dean could swear he saw longing in those gorgeous blue eyes, but Novak never said anything, and Dean let the matter drop. They were friends, and friendship was awesome too, and if sometimes Dean thought he wasn’t the only one pining...well, he wasn’t sure enough to risk his job or his friendship to test that supposition.

And so he pined.

And religiously watched NaughtyAngel’s Thursday night livestream.

And if sometimes, he thought NaughtyAngel’s torso (his face was never in frame) kinda resembled Novak’s...if occasionally, the name that slipped from his lips when he stroked himself to those videos was Cas instead of Angel one had to know that. (though he often suspected his Friday morning blushing must give him away).

He pinned some hopes on the Christmas party, the one night a year that was a standard exemption to Sandover’s usually strict harassment policies. Harassment was still obviously off the table, but there was mistletoe, and more than one coworker romance had come to fruition when two consenting adults had found themselves beneath the mistletoe and exchanged a first kiss, usually to the vast relief of their colleagues who’d watched them dance around each other for months. Despite some nerves, Dean made his move, offered the invitation, and was shot down, explicitly, for the first time.

“I’m sorry, but...there’s too much about me you don’t know. I can’t.”

Not - I’m straight. Not - I’m not interested. Not - it’s not you, it’s me. Not - I won’t risk our friendship. No, there was some bullshit secret keeping them apart.

The frustration and bitterness was what led Dean to make one of the least sensible fiscal decisions of his life. His holiday bonus was hefty, and most of it he saved, invested, paid against his debt - used in all the ways he ought.

But a precious one thousand dollars, he set aside for himself. NaughtyAngel did live streams once a week; other nights, he scheduled private clients at two hundred bucks an hour. Kink negotiated ahead of time, but once the basic parameters were set, nothing was off the table - NaughtyAngel would do anything a client requested that didn’t violate his “red light” list, and the livestream was full two-directional - Dean would be able to see all of NaughtyAngel, including his face, and NaughtyAngel would be able to see whatever parts of Dean that Dean was willing to expose.

Dean was ready to expose himself...thoroughly...and with a thousand dollars set aside, he’d get to do so for 5 full hours, or for five one hour sessions, or...well, there were a few options and they were all delicious .

With folks spending their holiday money to get their rocks off, NaughtyAngel was booked out several months in advance, and anticipation drove Dean increasingly nuts. He had so many ideas, and their kink negotiation via e-mail made it clear, they were super compatible. It was silly to think that they were engaged in anything but a service exchange - NaughtyAngel was polite to him, affectionate toward him, enthusiastic about Dean’s ideas, because that was his job . Dean got that, but sometimes he dared to think there was a special spark there.

Which was nice, because the spark with Novak seemed to have been quenched. Oh, the longing looks were there - more obvious than ever, from Novak toward him, Dean thought - but somehow even as their mutual interest because more clear, the actual distance between them grew greater. They were friends but they didn’t have any kind of outside-work relationship, and there was no way within their work relationship for Dean to ask, what the fuck is holding you back .

Finally, finally , the night of his private session came. Dean spent the whole damn day at half mast, and was super glad he paid the mark up to have a weekend session, because focusing on his job that day would have been fucking impossible .

At 6:45, 15 minutes early, Dean checked his connection, got everything set up, logged in, and waited. No way in fuck all was he risking a technical issues causing him to miss even a minute of his special time.

And 7 PM came.

And NaughtyAngel4U logged in; for a moment the camera showed only a familiar crotch, and then NaughtyAngel stepped back, got his face into the frame, and smiled, and--

--and holy shit , that was Cas Novak--

--and Dean suspected that the shocked expression on Novak’s face was an exact mirror of Dean’s own look, because holy shit .

As Dean’s brain melted down into a confused muddle of “yes omfg perfect” and “oh god he knows me log off right now,” he watched in frozen shock and mystification as Novak squawked, grabbed his blankets, covered his nudity, and tried to form coherent words.

They didn’t have any sex during that live stream.

But they did talk for the entire two hours.

And they did have sex during their second scheduled live stream.

And they did skip from “coworkers who’ve spent the last year awkwardly dancing around each other” straight to “maybe we should just move in together” in the space of about three weeks flat (much to the relief of their coworkers, who, yeah, thought maybe the two men were moving pretty quick but at least the pervasive funk of UST was finally out of the office atmosphere). 

Sam was the only person to whom Dean told the truth. He knew it meant giving Sam a lifetime of material with which to mock him, but he didn’t keep secrets from his brother, at least not secrets that important. Sam, unsurprisingly, thought this was the funniest shit he’d ever heard. 

“Dean, seriously, how the fuck did you not figure out that your work crush was also your...what...porno habit?” 

“I mean, his face is never in frame!” Dean spluttered.

“How did he not realize? Didn’t you pay him? Didn’t he see fricken ‘Dean Winchester’ on his payment statements?”

“Hey, there are like 15 people with that name in the country!”

“Did you fucking google that? WHY THE HELL DID YOU GOOGLE THAT?

...Sam wasn’t wrong.

Sam was rarely wrong.

Yeah, Dean probably should have figured it out.

At least now they knew.

On their wedding night, NerdyAngel4U quit. The money had been good, and Dean didn’t mind Cas continuing, but Cas wanted to quit, and he’d put together one hell of a nest egg.

Once, Dean had been certain that if NerdyAngel stopped streaming, Dean would be devastating, but as it turned out he had absolutely nothing to cry about. He did, however, scream Cas’ name repeatedly ...

Chapter Text

  • It’s 1968. Cas and Dean are both young, like college age. 
  • Cas is the stereotypical hippy - idealistic, naive, entitled, from a privileged family. He’s never really had to work for anything, he sees the world in rose colored glasses and loves the Beatles and Elvis and the like.
  • Dean is much more blue collar, and the only reason he didn’t meet his dad’s expectations and immediately enlist in the army on his 18th birthday is that the family is too poor and Dean is making good money as a mechanic - he makes a deal to defer joining the army until Sam is in college.
  • Cas and Dean meet at a party, and even though they see the world fairly differently, they have instant chemistry that they can’t deny. It’s a “relationship” that’s 9 parts passion 1 part sense.
  • Obviously this is a Big Secret but they manage to find ways to see each other, not nearly as often as they’d like, thus guaranteeing that the ways in which their personalities don’t actually work great together never come to the fore - they’re too busy being secretive and banging like bunnies.
  • Through impassioned logic (and hot sex) Cas starts to change Dean’s mind about things like the necessity of the war. This is helped along greatly as the year passes and…well, 1968 happens. They’re both shaken when MLK is killed in April, and Dean is particularly affected by RFK’s assassination in June. He’s starting to come around to Cas’ way of thinking, and they’re starting to see each other more and get along a bit better on an interpersonal level.
  • …until Dean’s draft number comes up. Cas does everything he can to convince Dean to skip out on the draft, but Dean isn’t prepared to go against his dad, and so he goes.
  • Over the following years there’s a whole lot of Holy Shit This War Sucks. Dean goes through utter hell, pretty much literally. Cas becomes more and more active (in like a borderline scary vigilante way) in the anti-war movement. Maybe even gets arrested and the like. And probably gets caught as gay and has the crap beaten out of him at least once.
  • Dean and Cas trade letters the whole time.
  • Dean manages to get leave a few times, and when he does he and Cas meet up and are inseparable for that time, and it’s incredibly intense and hot but clearly non-functional. Like, by the time these scenes are done the reader knows that as hot as it is and as much as they have chemistry, when they no longer have the war to add tension to their relationship the odds are high that “reality” can never compare to the tension-fueled fuckfests and the whole thing is going to epically fall apart. The fact that Dean has obvious PTSD already doesn’t help.
  • Dean’s term of enlistment is almost up in 1972, when the US military is heavily withdrawing. He doesn’t end up getting the chance - he’s severely injured during a non-name engagement with the Viet Cong.
  • He’s sent back to the US to heal. Initially, despite the severity of his wounds, it looks like he’s gonna recover. Cas is able to visit him, and it’s immensely sappy and angsty.
  • Dean takes a turn for the worse when infection sets in. He dies slowly and painfully and Cas is with him the whole time.
  • All the feels. And Elvis.
  • Epilogue: Cas lays a single flower below Dean’s name on the newly-unveiled Vietnam Memorial.

…and curtain.

Chapter Text

Omega/Omega WangXian outline


Wei Wuxian has three secrets:

  1. He's a virgin
  2. He's gay (these two are shamelessly inspired by a Destiel fic by betts but my plot is totally different)
  3. He's homeless and orphaned


Lan Wangji also has three secrets

  1. He's also a virgin (his gayness isn’t a secret...)
  2. He's an omega
  3. He lives alone in his family's mansion cause they're always traveling for work.


It was all that Lan Wangji could do to convince his family that he should have a chance to go to a regular school. They’re not celebrities but they are rich; his father and uncle ran a corporation together until his father died (of grief, most likely, after his mother died); now Lan Qiren runs it largely solo, though only temporarily - as soon as Lan Xichen finishes his MBA, he and Lan Qiren will be in charge together, and when he’s old enough Lan Wangji will help as well. He’s never really thought about how he feels about that, but it’s not like he has any choice - that he’s in the line of succession is simply a fact of life, and he does his best to live up to Lan Qiren’s expectations. The only complication is something that no one, no one , can ever find out: that he’s an omega. He takes suppressants, and hormones that mask his scent and make him seem an alpha in public. Society is progressing to a point that it finds the old mode of alphas lead, omegas follow, to be hopelessly outdated, but unfortunately the corporate Board of Directors is a bunch of ancient fuddy duddy alpha men who would never accept an omega in a leadership position, especially not a male omega.

With all that in mind, the condition of his attending a regular school was simple: he must be valedictorian. If he was going to stoop to do what normal people do, he must excel and blow them out of the water, and his attendance there must act as a springboard for his college admissions. After all, if he can dominate academics and extracurriculars, he’s guaranteed a spot in a top-notch university - not that he wasn’t guaranteed that anyway, with his family heritage and the money he has. 

The only thing that really baffles his family is... why would he want to go to regular school?

Lan Wangji is honestly not sure of that either, just he knows that for a few short years of his life he has to escape the ivory tower in which he’s been confined since birth, and to which he’ll return when he goes to college.

Lan Wangji doesn’t know why, but he knows he needs this.

What he doesn’t need is Wei Wuxian. The class delinquent couldn’t be more different, or a more frustrating distraction. He disrupts class with his inane questions, he riles up the teachers with his shenanigans, and he regularly ends up in detention, often with his friend Nie Huaisang at his side. If Lan Wangji is the top of the class, they’re surely the bottom.

Wei Wuxian, meanwhile, has really been dealt a shit hand by life. He’s queer as can be, in a society that doesn’t approve much of male omegas or homosexuality, and he’s never gotten laid despite his reputation as a shameless flirt - a reputation he only has because he flirts with any woman breathing, no matter her presentation type, lest the truth become obvious to anyone. And he’s terrified to think what will happen if anyone learns that, at 16, he’s living alone on the streets. He likes his life, after a fashion, and he likes his friends, and he doesn’t want to be shuttled into the foster care system. He’s heard too many horror stories about what happens to omegas in his situation. And so he does odd jobs under the table for local business, scrimps and saves, depends on the school lunch, and gets by, if only barely. If his clothes are worn, and his belly is puckered, and his hair has to be cropped short so it won’t show that it’s unwashed, well, those are manageable problems. Two more years and he’ll be an adult and have his diploma and then, the sky’s the limit.

He does hate how the better-off students look down on him, though. That any alpha with their nose up in the air judges him is wrong, but it’s especially infuriating when it’s someone like Lan Wangji, who has never had to work hard for anything a day in his damn life. He’s never chosen between eating rotten food or starving. He’s never had to wear the same outfit for a week, coming up with increasingly creative excuses why, because he has no other clothing. He might think he’s working on his grades and his damn after school activities, but in reality, if Lan Wangji just...stopped...his family would still be rich, and he’d still have everything he could want - everything Wei Wuxian could want - and Wei Wuxian would still hate him.

Then, one day when walking home late from school, after finishing up fencing practice, Lan Wangji catches a scent in the air - the tang of an omega in heat, blowing on the wind. Concerned, he follows his nose, and finds his way to a filthy, trash strewn alley...and Wei Wuxian, huddling and whimpering (so different from the confident facade he shows at school!) a top a trash bin while a group of smirking alphas threaten him, growling filthy promises, swearing they’ll give him what he needs.

It’s any omega’s worst nightmare, and Lan Wangji doesn’t hesitate before acting - he takes out his foil and drives the shocked alphas away. Wei Wuxian’s wary expression doesn’t shift, though, nor does the obvious evidence of his sexual distress. He reeks of slick and desperation, his old, ragged clothes concealing neither wet spot nor erection.

“You must get home,” Lan Wangji commands. “I’ll accompany you, if you want.”

“Can’t,” Wei Wuxian whispers.

“Fine - go alone if you must. Is this your first heat? Surely your parents will understand and won’t judge you, but it isn’t safe for you here.”

“ parents. No home. I live here.”

Stunned, Lan Wangji can only stare and blink until Wei Wuxian manages some of his usual brazen confidence and says, “we’re not all rich, Lan Wangji. I’m an orphan, and I live here, and if you’ve got a problem you can just fuck right off like those other alphas did. I don’t need your pity. I can take care of myself.”

In an instant, Lan Wangji makes a decision. Wei Wuxian can not stay here, and so he must come home with Lan Wangji. Lan Qiren is somewhere-or-other on a business trip, and his brother is at school, so there’s no one in the house to know. When Lan Qiren comes back and smells heat, Lan Wangji can always claim his suppressants failed.

Wei Wuxian only resists his urgings for a few minutes before surrendering and following Lan Wangji home. At least, with an apparent alpha at his side, no one else harrasses the omega in heat.

They’re barely in the door when the heat truly over takes Wei Wuxian, his mating drive overriding his intelligence, his propriety, his shame. He begs Lan Wangji for a knot - impossible, not that Wei Wuxian has anyway to know that - and when he’s denied that, he starts hunting through the mansion for anything even vaguely phallic. Lan Wangji leaves him in a bathroom, soaking in a hot tub, fucking himself raw with a shampoo bottle. It’s licentious, and pornographic, and shameful...and it’s enticing, and beautiful, and fascinating. Sex has been so little a part of Lan Wangji’s life - his only glimpses the porn he’s occasionally sneaked a peek at while at bookstores - and he’s shocked to find himself turned on and curious. He wants to watch. And...he wants to answer Wei Wuxian’s desperate pleas, to give him what he’s begging for. weird. Everyone says that omegas don’t feel attraction for other omegas.

Maybe the meds that Lan Wangji takes so he can masquerade as an alpha are effecting his mating drives?

Or, maybe what everyone says is wrong?

Grateful that it’s a Friday night, that Lan Qiren left him cash, and that no one really knows his face, Lan Wangji goes out to get some better toys for Wei Wuxian to use. Despite the temptation of Wei Wuxian’s wrecked voice, his slim body (though he’d be more appealing if he wasn’t so emaciated; there’s nothing healthy about the way that Wei Wuxian’s skin presses against his skin), his wet hole, having sex with him is inconceivable , when Wei Wuxian is incapable of consent. (but, Lan Wangji is forced to admit to himself, if Wei Wuxian was capable of consent? He’d be tempted. Very, very tempted.)

The next few days are...euphoric. Wei Wuxian is delirious most of the time, except for the few hours after the knotting dildo finally sates him. During those times, he mostly sleeps; though he usually finds at least a little energy to express how damn embarrassed he is and repeating that he could leave, should leave. Maybe it’s wrong of Lan Wangji to prevent him doing so, but there’s no place safer for the desperate, horny omega, and it’s not like he plans to imprison him long term...not like he’s really imprisoning Wei Wuxian. The omega could walk to the door and out onto the street any time, the lock can be opened from the inside easily enough. 

Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to leave, though. As crazed as his hormones are making him, he’s well aware that his being in this mansion is practically a miracle. He’s safe from dangerous alphas, he’s well fed and cared for, he’s respected . Lan Wangji might be a giant bag of dicks but as the hours stretch into days Wei Wuxian is having trouble remembering that - all he can remember is how the Lan Wangji’s scent suffuses the bed sheets on which Wei Wuxian ruts, how ever whiff of it calms him, how Lan Wangji keeps his distance, and gets him what he needs, and then leaves.

Well... that is a douche move, he should be fucking Wei Wuxian senseless and knotting him and breeding him. 

Though in his more sensible moments, Wei Wuxian knows...that’s wrong, and not what he actually wants, and he has the vague sense that as frustrating as Lan Wangji’s behavior is right now, sometime soon he’ll appreciate it.

Still, in the most desperate moments of his heat, his boundaries do break down. In the middle of the night, after most of a day without being able to get himself off, he crawls (literally) to Lan Wangji’s room, climbs into his bed, curls up against him. Lan Wangji protests, of course, but Wei Wuxian can’t fathom moving. He needs this - needs it - he’s so fucking desperate - and so he ruts against Lan Wangji, rubbing Lan Wangji’s erection against his crack, shifting the dildo still buried in his hole, stroking his own dick desperately.

And if, after an achingly long time of listening to Wei Wuxian beg, unsatisfied, Lan Wangji’s willpower finally breaks, and he reaches around and wraps a hand around Wei Wuxian’s dick, and another around the base of the toy, and does what he can to give his classmate, his enemy, his...rival...maybe...maybe his omega?...what he needs.

They both shatter when Wei Wuxian comes.

On Monday, Lan Wangji has to go to school - perfect attendance is obviously also a must for the perfect student - and is forced to field scads of questions. The heat scent is pungent and different enough from normal that no one things that the omega Lan Wangji spent the weekend with is Wei Wuxian, but there’s no hiding that he spent the weekend with someone . Of course the school’s golden boy also gets hot omega nookie at the prime age of 17. IDon’t some people have all the luck. t’s hard to concentrate all day, knowing he smells like sex, knowing he got very little sleep the night before because of Wei Wuxian, knowing that, at home, Wei Wuxian is likely awake and horny again, and alone, and maybe begging for him. 

Wei Wuxian spends the day tangled in Lan Wangji’s sheets, huffing his scent like a drug, whimpering his name as he masturbates.

And such is where he still is, when Lan Wangji gets home.

There’s no keeping their hands to themselves, but Lan Wangji manages to keep certain lines intact. They don’t have penetrative sex. They don’t kiss. They touch as little as they can. It’s hard, he thinks given half a chance Wei Wuxian would mount him and take what his body demands, consent be damned...and if he really tried, Lan Wangji doesn’t think he’d stop Wei Wuxian.

He’s glad it doesn’t come to that.

On day 4 into day 5, Wei Wuxian’s hormones finally begin to subside, and they finally manage to have actual, sensible conversation. Wei Wuxian does consent to further intimacy, but the air is still redolent with heat, and Lan Wangji can’t quite trust that consent. Still, And somehow seem to have more in common than Lan Wangji would have imagined. Yes, Lan Wangji is reserved where Wei Wuxian is gregarious. Yes, Lan Wangji is a rules-follower where Wei Wuxian is an inveterate mischief maker, but they’re both alone, and isolated, and lonely. They’re both brilliant, and curious, and hard working, and determined.

On day 6, Lan Wangji suggests that maybe Wei Wuxian doesn’t have to leave when his heat is over. He’ll have to go, or hide, when Lan Qiren returns, but the mansion is enormous and has ample guests rooms, and there’s always enough food for an army. Heck, Wei Wuxian is probably the first omega in ages to come out of a heat healthier and better fed, with more meat on his bones, than he had at the start.

On day 7, Wei Wuxian declines and leaves.

On day 10 (or would it be eleven? Eh, I don’t feel like mathing) - the heat well past, and a weekend apart - Wei Wuxian pulls Lan Wangji aside on asks if the offer for him to stay at the mansion is still open.

And somehow, over the weeks and months that follow, they develop a friendship. Their classmates are baffled, though Nie Huaisang goes along with it like it’s the most normal thing in the world that the school’s richest and poorest students, who always seemed to loathe each other, are now besties. Lan Wangji often appears to merely be tolerating Wei Wuxian (but actually increasingly finds his mischief endearing, especially now that he understands the mask that Wei Wuxian wears) and Wei Wuxian often rolls his eyes at Lan Wangji’s hideboundness (but really he just likes trying to get a rise out of him) and they spend more and more time together.

More and more people hypothesize that the omega that spent their heat with Lan Wangji was Wei Wuxian.

They don’t deny those rumors, but they also don’t confirm them.

The first kiss is almost an accident. Wei Wuxian is laughing about something, and with his cheeks less hollow, and his hair clean and growing out, and his eyes shining with mirth, he’s the most beautiful creature, and Lan Wangji leans toward him - he doesn’t intend to kiss, he truly doesn’t - it’s just that Wei Wuxian also leans in, and somehow they’re brought so close together that their lips

And that’s when secret (not-so-secret) friendship transitions to secret relationship.

It doesn’t matter if their classmates find out.

It does matter if Lan Qiren does - and keeping it a secret is incredibly complicated. The closer they grow, the more Lan Wangji worries about allowing his omega (his? Really? It is increasingly seeming that way…) to spend even a non-heat night alone on the street, and so they use all manner of ploys, but eventually it does come out. Lan Qiren comes home early from a business trip, and is furious, and kicks Wei Wuxian out.

Of all people, Nie Huaisang, to everyone’s amazement, rides to the rescue. He contacts Lan Xichen, who is neck deep in Business School and has missed literally everything , and fills him in. He then tweaks every single other contact he has (and seriously, how does a 17 year old beta have so damn many contacts?) to get Wei Wuxian somewhere safe, and let Lan Wangji know where he is. At first no one is what Lan Xichen’s opinion is, but he comes down firmly on his brother’s side. Still, Lan Qiren is inflexible.

Until Lan Wangji gathers his packets of hormones and pills, places them in a neat bag on Lan Qiren’s desk, along with a note that says, “if you won’t let him be with me, then I will never use these again.”

Saving face becomes a question of - admitting the teenaged Lan is actually an omega, and facing the massive fallout - political, social, emotional, and fiscal - that will cause…

...or let the “alpha” Lan Wangji have his scuzzy, street omega as a boyfriend.

A gay alpha CEO? Manageable.

An embarrassing significant other or, god forbid, spouse? Manageable.

Omega Lan Wangji?

Unthinkable .

And so Lan Qiren caves, much to the relief of everyone.

Neither Lan Wangji nor Wei Wuxian ever spend another heat alone.

Chapter Text

The rivalry between Jimmy and Cas Novak is a thing of legends on the surfing circuit. They’re twin brothers, but no one could ever confuse one for the other. 

Jimmy is laid back, long hair permanently wet and salt-curled about his shoulders, and seemingly the epitome of the out of it stoner type, at least until he’s on his surfboard, and then he’s fucking lights out .

Cas is clean cut, proper, and has been mistaken for a prosthelytizing Mormon more times than he’d care to admit. He seems the type to more slap wrists at a Catholic school, but he’s also fucking lights out on a surfboard.

Between the two of them, they’ve dominated the competitive surfing scene for the past four years. Multiple new stunts bear the name “the Jimmy” in some variation or other, and Cas has turned his wins into an empire, coaching and teaching and bringing up the next generation, all the while saying with a flat, calm expression, that he’s never seen anyone better than his brother...except himself...and none of these young folks will be able to dethrone him.

In public, they’re continually at apparent odds, and that they train at the same beach and live in the same apartment building is seen as a necessary evil for the two brothers that, to all appearances, take their rivalry extremely seriously. This doesn’t strike anyone as strange - there are only a handful of truly world-class beaches and breakers in the world, and accommodations in those locations are pricey. Even rivals would obviously put that aside, especially if they were brothers, in order to make the most of training opportunities.

That all that is true is extremely convenient, and makes an excellent cover for the fact that, beneath all the public anger, the two have an life. Pumped up on adrenaline and anger and adoration, they fight for dominance in the bedroom just as hard as they fight for dominance on the waves. Both avoid soft moments as much as they can - neither is prepared to admit that it’s more than just convenient, hate-fueled sex (as if they could ever actually hate the other, they each admit in the privacy of their own thoughts). 

And anyway, Jimmy reasons, there’s nothing hotter than knowing that straight-laced, oh-so-proper, snobby, full-of-himself Cas routinely comes, sobbing, with Jimmy’s dick in his ass.

And anyway, Cas reasons, he’s telling the simple truth when he says that there’s no one other than his brother who can possibly compete with him. Who else could he ever fuck? And the way Jimmy never stops fighting, never stops struggling, never stops clawing at his back, even when Cas has got him pinned and taking every inch of his erection? 

There’s no trading that for the world.

The pressure of the media and the competitive circuit is intense, and when they’re on the road it’s always hands off each other - the risks of getting caught are way too high when they’ve got to sneak between hotels instead of just using the trap door they secretly had installed, with a fold out staircase, so they can pass between their two apartments.

It’s during one such competition, in Hawaii, while - horny and frustrated that he was losing and So Done with media and fans, Cas steals an hour to go for a quiet walk along a secluded cove. There’s no beach here, and the thick forest and volcanic outflow surrounding the area prevents much development, which is probably why it’s completely empty despite the pretty damn impressive waves that break against the rocky shore - it would be a great surfing spot, if only one could get there with a board - and it’s while sitting on one crag of recent volcanic basalt that Cas realizes...someone has gotten a board there. There’s a dude riding one of the huge waves rolling toward shore, and he’s good.

The wave breaks, and the guy doesn’t even tumble; like fucking magic, he steers his board into the calm waters, drops to his belly, paddles easily to the next crest forming, hops back to his feet, and manages a flip on a wave so small that most pros would wash out.

He’s really fucking good .

And gorgeous , with short, sun-kissed hair curling about his ears and freckles covering his face and shoulders and arms, and, like, it should be utterly impossible for Cas to see that his eyes are green, given the distance, and yet they are, glowing in the dazzling sunlight, matching his swim trunks; the skin about his legs and abdomen and neck catches the light and seems to shine , like scales, though surely that’s just the sheen of water glinting in the sunshine, maybe some photoreactive plankton getting involved...

Enthralled, Cas can only watch, and he could have sworn he knew every single top-notch surfer in the world - it’s not that big a community - but he’s never seen this guy, and he’s absolutely good enough to be on their ranks. Finally, as the shifts of tides bring a temporary calm and Cas feels sure he’s not gonna get the guy hurt by breaking his focus, Cas shouts,


The guy jerks around, obviously absolutely horrified, squawks, and tumbles into the water, his board bobbing on the next eddy.

And doesn’t come back up.

With a flare of panic, Cas dives in after him, and finds...nothing, nobody, not a soul. He’s an excellent swimmer, of course, and the cove isn’t that big...but the guy is just gone.

So Cas retrieves his board - it’s old, and worn, and beaten up, which makes the tricks even more impressive, to control for the extra drag and friction on a board in that condition is incredible .

Like, Cas isn’t sure he could do it.

That evening, he chats with Jimmy about it over text, and the next day they both take what opportunities they can to investigate, but he’s not there, and the board is still beached. It’s not until the last day before their departure (Jimmy won, bastard) that they get a glimpse of the man again - but when they do, it’s while he’s on shore, getting his board.

So...they approach him.

Despite his obvious wide-eyed terror at being confronted by them, they manage to have a chat before he flees...into the water again...

...and seriously what the fuck…

...but they have to leave, so that’s that, they suppose.


Dean is a merman.

And he’s really not supposed to split to legs, like, ever.

And he’s definitely not supposed to love something so prosaic and human as surfing .

But God, it’s fun , a completely new and different way of interacting with the ocean he adores. It took him years to steal himself a board, and find the perfect secluded spot, and hone his skills. He practices daily, and his brother is the only one who has ever watched him…

...until those two humans find him.


That’s the end of that, he supposes. Now that he’s been seen, they must have inferred what he is - how could they not? - and it’s only a matter of hours before swarms of humans descend on the beach, dive beneath the waves, seeking him and his people.

His stupid fucking hobby may have ruined everything, for everyone.

So he stays away, retreats to the depths, and mopes around. Still, he can’t keep away from the shore, or his board, or his waves. And when he investigates, about a week later...he finds nothing. No humans. No discovery. No investigation. Just his board, precisely where he left it, and a note he can’t read - but his brother can.

Sammy says the note says, “Sorry we scared you. You’re bitchin’ bro. Hope we see you next time we’re in town - November 25th. We’ll be here!”

It takes a bit of doing for them to get their hands on a human calendar, and figure out the current date in the bizarre system they use, and discover that the date in question isn’t too many weeks hence.

And it’s while they’re snitching the calendar, from a beach-front surfer shack with a TV permanently on, that Dean finds out who his two discoverers are, because the TV is showing a surf competition, and an interview, and right fricken there on the screen is one of the two dudes, doing an interview interspersed with footage of him surfing. It’s the long-haired on, and man, is he easy on the eyes, even if his legs are permanent.

Because the things he does with those legs, while on a surfboard?

Dean has never seen anything more awesome.

But they’re apparently famous among humans or something, and that makes them dangerous, and seriously, Dean should never have surfed in the first place. He should go back beneath the waves, mind his own business, leave the damn sport to the humans, return to his life…

...but instead, he sneaks to shore whenever he can, watching more of the footage, practicing the advanced tricks he sees the competitive surfers do.

And on November 25th, he’s at the cove, hanging ten despite choppy waves.

And the two men show up, each carrying a board, and without saying anything or making any sudden moves that might freak Dean out (seriously, how thin skinned do they think he is - it’s pretty easy for Dean to pretend he didn’t panic like a wuss and run the hell away the first two times they met…) they take to the waves.

They’re even better in person.

The three surf together for hours, in seclusion, wheeling and spinning around each other, showing off, demonstrating, almost entirely in silence. They all know what they’re about well enough to communicate without using words.

It is, hands down, the best afternoon of Dean’s life.

And as dusk starts to fall and they head to shore, one finally calls, “we’ll be back in two days, if you want to do this again…”

Dean has never wanted anything more.

The twins can’t stop talking about the silent, intriguing, insanely skilled stranger. Who is he? They ask around, amongst the competitors, amongst the locals, but no one seems to know. How could no one know? And they of course go back as promised, and he’s there again, and this time he actually talks - his voice is sea-wrecked, rough and weird, but generally understandable - his name is Dean, he lives locally, and the only other thing he has to offer is a zillion questions about them. He’s seen them, he knows who they are, he dodges every single question about himself.

So things go. They see him as much as they can. When the twins leave, they both acknowledge...they’re intrigued, in more ways than one. There are multiple mutual masturbation sessions where they talk about him, imagine him, whisper about how strong his legs must be and how hung he must be and how slick his skin must feels and how amazing that voice would sound groaning their names.

And meanwhile, Jimmy takes things in his own hands - pulling in some contacts, he secretly enters Dean in the next Hawaii competition. Because he is good enough, and Jimmy’s got enough cred to convince others based simply on his word.

Drama of course ensues - when they tell Dean when they next arrive (because Dean...doesn’t have a phone? Or the internet? And so they can only talk to him in literal, physical presence? Wtf?) he’s at first furious and leaves even as they shout the time of the event after him…

...but he shows, with his ancient beat up board, and is the laughingstock of the assembly until about ten seconds after he starts riding a wave.

He comes in third.

He hides from attention as much as possible, and the twins help...until the time they can’t, and Dean is cornered.

Terrified, Dean does the only thing he knows to do - dives beneath the waves, transforms, and flees.

And that’s when the search parties go out, because unfortunately is someone goes down in the depths in a major public beach...that shit is taken seriously. They don’t find him of course, but he can’t exactly just...pop back up.

But that doesn’t stop him checking the cove forlornly. Because...he likes the twins. A lot. A whole, whole, whole lot. He wishes they were mermen too. He wishes they lived in Hawaii. He wishes...way too many totally unreasonable things. The first time he looks for them, it’s empty, but the second time, Cas is there, and the third time, Jimmy is. The fourth time, in the middle of the night, they both are, asleep in the mild winter night, curled amidst the rocks, high tide lapping at their toes. Dean finds a comfortable spot in the warm waves and they stir, when he flees again.

They’re still there that evening.

Finally, sheepish, he approaches them.

And they have a long, long talk - because, despite the risks, there’s no point in Dean approaching them at all if he’s not willing to fess up to some hard truths and explain himself.

Well, the twins acknowledge...Dean being not fucking human explains a thing or ten…

...the next year or so passes weirdly. Both twins spend way more time in Hawaii than they would have. They don’t attempt to enroll Dean in anymore competitions, his secret his too precious, his trust in them even more so. Instead, they see him when they can, and fall a little harder every time, and they surf together…

...and Cas looks into moving to Hawaii…

...and Jimmy is approached by an enormous moose of a man with long shaggy hair who introduces himself as Sam and say if the twins do anything to hurt Dean, he’ll bury them so deep in the ocean no human will ever find their bodies…

...and it’s the following surf season, when they’ve mostly arranged their move but haven’t seen Dean in six months that they find him on the rocky shore, waiting them at the precisely appointed time and place, board beside him as he lies, sunning himself, naked. His smile when he sees them breaks both twins’ hearts, and Cas has to acknowledge...he’s finally found someone in their league...and Jimmy as to acknowledge, as fun as it is fighting Cas over who gets to top, it’s even more fun fighting with Cas over who gets to top Dean .

And things...things are good, even if they’ve got to keep a whole heck of a lot of secrets.

Chapter Text

Drag AU?


Wei Ying is the most flaming and out and proud. He loves his body and he knows 80 bazillion awesome ways to style his long, luxurious hair, and he will sometimes spend entire days out and about in drag just cause it's fun. His drag name is Yingying, Matriarch of Yiling. When he first enters the scene, tends towards cutesy goth loli looks, but he can really bring it in any style on demand. However, after...something...happens, he tends toward a more glamour horror chic look - ala Sharon Needles of RuPaul’s Drag Race fame. More on what happened later...but he channels how much he hurts into a public persona as a coping mechanism. Like, when he feels broken, or he feels like a ghost, or he feels dirty, he's got the make up and technical skills to actually embody that feeling, and he finds that the deliberation, planning, implementation, expense and effort that goes into creating those looks is extremely therapeutic for him.

He’s kept what happened to him a secret as much as possible, so when he starts to change, no one around him really gets it.


Lan Zhan (since this is an AU this is his only name) is from a super conservative family and is so deep in the closet that he keeps his actual drag at his friend Mianmian's house (his family thinks he's courting her and couldn't possibly be more wrong, though she HAS suggested she could be his beard, and he's considered it). He came to drag slowly, as the one place he could both be himself...and not at all be himself. It's a disguise, a much thicker mask than he usually wears. Unlike most of his fellow queens, who change at their performance venues, Lan Zhan ‐ whose stage name is Wangji, signifying the nigh-spiritual significance of drag for him - always arrives already made up and unrecognizable. No one in the scene knows his actual identity. That's his only choice. But the longer he does it, the harder it becomes to keep his secret - not because he's in more danger of being outed, but because he doesn't want to have to be so secretive. He wants to make friends, and trade tips, and be himself. 

Instead, he keeps his secret, and only Mianmian knows, and he's lonely but at least he has some outlet for self-expression.


Nie Huaisang is in an interesting position, in that he's trans (ftm). A lot of his friends find his interest in drag odd, and his big brother is a dick about it and takes it as some kind of proof that Huaisang isn't actually trans because if he likes dressing as a girl obviously that means something right? But Huaisang does like dressing as a girl, and is still a man. He's intrigued by performative femininity (god knows, he studied it closely enough before he came out, since he was always performing) and androgyny. He has a fondness for beautiful things and is known for his apt (if sometimes excessive) use of accessories. His drag name is Madam Nie, much to the constant annoyance of Nie Mingjue.


Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian came up through the scene at around the same time, and Jiang Cheng's father (a well known drag queen) kinda adopted Wei Ying when he was first coming out. For Jiang Cheng it was more of a life calling than a hobby or an outlet. His mother owns and runs a well known drag pageant, and his dad was a queen back in the day. Thus, it's a source of constant frustration to Jiang Cheng that his features are relatively masculine, and it takes heavy makeup and wigs for him to convincingly pass as a woman. A lot of people - especially Wei Ying - tell Jiang Cheng that he doesn't need to pass, that the whole point of drag is to explore gender expression, and Jiang Cheng should do it his own way - which is rich coming from fucking Wei Ying, who can pass with a dab of blush and a skirt and literally no other changes. Jiang Cheng might be a little jealous and bitter, and he gets more jealous and bitter when Wei Ying suddenly forsakes his femme style in favor of horror chic (because of course Wei Ying doesn't tell even Jiang Cheng what happened to him...). On the plus side, Wei Ying does pass all his older style drag stuff over to his brother (...pssh like Jiang Cheng needs that garbage to succeed...but he uses it anyway...). Despite his jealousy and bitterness, tho, Jiang Cheng is very skilled and popular. His drag name is the Zidian Lotus. (thanks for that idea, neo!)


Jiang Yanli, Jiang Cheng's sister, has also found her way into the scene, though calling her a drag king seems a bit of a misnomer since she's not a performer so much as a model. She delights in reproducing complex historical scenes, with herself in detailed (male) period dress and a decor to match, and then she does photoshoots. Sometimes, if the shoot involves an ostensibly female role as well, that will be played by Jiang Cheng most often, or occasionally Wei Ying and, increasingly, by the mysterious Wangji, who also loves the meticulous historical recreation involved in the shoots (and yes Lan Zhan knows exactly how dangerous that is for him to do publicly but he does it anyway). Once the scene is set they do professional photo shoots, telling stories with the pictures, twisting gender roles, performative masculinity and femininity, and using the tropes and trappings of the historical setting to ovffr stinging social commentary about the present. Yanli has gotten famous in her own right for this work, and that renown is finally starting to translate into commensurate wealth. She is best known for her work in Western settings but, undeniably, Eastern shoots are her favorites.


Meng Yao is rather a nobody, and he comes to drag rather more as a strategy than out of any conviction or love of doing it. As he is, as he was born, he's dirt, but in drag he can reinvent himself and be anyone and anything, and in drag he can be famous, powerful, and as it grows more popular, wealthy. He wants all those things, and if all he has to do is claw his way to the top and play an act...that's easy enough. He’s been playing a part, wearing a false public facade, his entire life. He's well liked for his gentle manners, and tendency toward manipulation means he's generally able to cruise through every drama storm he creates with minimal damage. Many a well-known queen falls as a result of his insinuations and machinations; having forced most of the older generation into retirement, he's recently turned his eyes towards the up and coming stars - Jiang Cheng, Jiang Yanli, Wei Ying, and the strange Wangji (whose identity he is determined to learn). His drag name is Jin Guangyao, and yes he knows *exactly* how presumptuous that is, especially given the prominence of the actual Jin family in the city.


Wen Ning's family is a lot like the Lan's - prominent, well known, conservative - with one notable difference. His sister and he trust each other, communicate well, and she has his back 10,000%. He starts out slow and timid - he goes to a few shows, he hides some lingerie beneath his clothes, he wears makeup that matches his natural tones...and as he gets more comfortable, he takes more chances. Meeting Wei Ying really helps. Wei Ying’s unbridled enthusiasm carries Wen Ning along, and Wen Ning kinda becomes Wei Ying’s newest drag project. 

And that, really, is where the trouble starts.


Wen Ning enters the scene, openly, as Wen Ning, and Meng Yao sees his chance to sow discord and topple the Jiangs and their sycophants, like that damn annoying Wei Ying. He sends whispers toward the Wen clan about Wen Ning’s goings-on, and while publicly the Wens say they’re okay with this, behind the scenes they’re furious . Wen Qing’s favor drops, and the Wens plot behind the scenes how they can pull Wen Ning out of the scene, ideally by ruining everyone who is encouraging him. If they can make the drag scene be awful for Wen Ning, he’ll come back to the family with his figurative tail between his legs (...everyone knows that Wen Ning is a bit dim, and a coward, after all…) and Wen Qing will put on an appropriately public show of contrition and “now we know betters” and everything can go back to normal.

The Wens growing interest in the drag scene is what then draws the Lans into it as well, because anything the Wens oppose, the Lans will at least pretend to approve of - that’s just how the power dynamics in the city go. Lan Zhan knows that his family is exactly the same as the Wens, though - publicly, they’ll suddenly pretend they’re not conservative, but privately if he’s found out, the wrath of hell and Lan Qiren will rain on him and he’ll be lucky if he’s allowed to leave the family demesne for the next three years. Thus, rather than take the risk, he draws back from the scene - leaving his friends from less powerful houses to fend for themselves.

He ends up regretting this choice. Immensely.

Meng Yao is thrilled. He’s got no idea how his messing with the Wens has led to the ever-maddeningly Wangji leaving the drag scene, but it’s definitely an unexpected bonus. Some plotting, some networking with a Wen mercenary named Xue Yang, and contriving to have Wei Ying trapped, beaten bloody, and maybe worse, is simplicity itself. 

The attack on Wei Ying leaves him, at least temporarily, a shadow of himself. He doesn’t dare go to the hospital, not trusting the doctors to take him seriously, and definitely doesn’t dare go to the police because he knows too well what they’ll say. So he retreats to his own home to nurse his wounds and deal with the physical trauma, and try to get his brain back together after the psychological trauma. Unfortunately, Jiang Cheng is too used to his close friend randomly disappearing - once Wei Ying went to Harajuku on a shoe string for two weeks without even bothering to tell anyone, so what’s a day or two between friends? - and it’s not until Wen Ning starts to get worried, and Wen Qing asks some questions around her circles, that they start to figure out what happened. Wen Ning didn’t know Wei Ying during his least responsible years, and in his experience...Wei Ying never leaves a text message hanging, and never lets down a friend, so him not answering his phone, not responding to messages on his social media, completely disappearing, is massively out of character. Wen Qing finds out the truth, and considering she is one of those doctors that Wei Ying didn’t trust, she feels no qualms about grabbing her go bag and basically beating down his door until he finally lets her in.

Because as much as he wants to nurse his hurts privately and keep it all a secret until he somehow pulls off a triumphant return - he knows he’ll get there eventually, no matter how low he feels now - he can’t deny, when put on the spot…

...he needs her help.

And so Wen Ning and Wen Qing help Wei Ying recover, and they help keep his secret even if Wen Qing grimaces everytime (she thinks he’s being an idiot...she’s mostly right…). 

Unfortunately, Jiang Cheng finds out exactly the wrong pieces of this. He doesn’t learn why Wei Ying is hiding, but he does learn that Wei Ying has been avoiding him...while hanging out with the Wens...and enough has happened to his family’s business that can be traced to the Wens that his rage is incited. So when Wei Ying does return to the scene, with his new look, he and Jiang Cheng promptly have a falling out.

Which Meng Yao capitalizes on, driving more wedges between them with quiet.

Meanwhile, Nie Huaisang is watching all this from the sidelines and trying to figure out how his wonderful, happy safe space, and his closest friends, have gone from being amazing to being a total fucking mess. He plays himself off as so happy go lucky and oblivious that even Meng Yao is fooled, and in the meantime he starts his own long game - to salvage that which Meng Yao is trying to destroy and drive Meng Yao out of drag at the same time. 

Which, after a few months of things getting worse, is how Lan Xichen ends up at the club. He’s always been kind of skeptical of his uncle’s positions on queerness (and he has his suspicions about his brother) and he wants to better understand what the hell is going on, how something so...out of the ordinary...has somehow become the flash point for clan conflict. What he sees makes him a little uncomfortable, and very curious, and he can’t deny he feels a...strong...spark of...something...when he watches the Zidian Lotus perform. 

He also happens to be there on Wei Ying’s first night back.

And recognizes Wei Ying, in drag, from a photo he’s scene on Lan Zhan’s phone. He thought the woman in the photograph was an actress or something, she was so beautiful...and instead, he realizes, Lan Zhan must know who Yingying is, and has secretly kept a photograph of “her” on his phone.

So he heads home with the expectation of having a quiet conversation with his brother and learn the truth...and instead, accidentally, Lan Qiren learns the truth, and Lan Zhan’s worst fears are realized - now he’s not voluntarily avoiding the scene, and he has no choice...even as he’s hearing whispers that something must have happened to Wei Ying, because he’s...different...than he was.

Anyway, there’s obviously a metric ton of plot here that would need to get sorted through, but a lot will revolve around Xue Yang getting caught and - gleefully - admitting some of the horrible things he’s done, and enjoying the pain those admissions cause especially to Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, horrified to learn how much he might have prevented had he simply been present, resolves to never let Wei Ying down similarly again, and in the end they all happily ride off into the drag sunset, except Meng Yao, who gets exactly what’s coming to him after all his scheming.

(Lan Xichen falling hard for Jiang Cheng helps a lot)

(Wen Qing turning on her family also helps a lot, which she mostly does because she gets to know Jiang Yanli and realizes just how much of life she’s been missing out on, and that she doesn’t need to kowtow to things she doesn’t agree with any longer if she can have real friends...and more than friends...who support her...)

(Lan Zhan coming out publicly as Wangji makes its whole own mess, though less than it might have since about two minutes later, while still on stage and in drag, he grabs Yingying and snogs her in front of a packed audience, much to Wei Ying’s surprise and, once he’s wrapped his head around it, gratification. With the public hook up of two of the most popular queens in the city, people have better things to talk about than both a Lan and a Wen publicly being in the scene)

(How did my attempt at a light hearted drag AU grow this much damn plot? *sobs*)

Healing takes time...but, really, Nie Huaisang feels like he succeeded admirably in restoring his drag family.

Chapter Text

After how well Jiang Cheng and (assigned female at birth, and presenting as female from the beginning) Nie Huaisang get along at the Gusu Lan Lectures, Jiang Fengmian and Nie Mingjue decide to arrange a marriage between the two - it'll solidify their family relationship, all that jazz. But Jiang Cheng isn't in love with Huaisang (Huaisang is great...but Jiang Cheng is gay, not that his family knows that...) and Huaisang isn't in love with Jiang Cheng (...his secret is much too big to share with anyone, especially if there's any chance it'll ever get back to Nie Mingjue). But, they're close friends, and they both know a subsequent arranged marriage could be much much less pleasant if they decline this one, so they go for it. Sex is off the table, because neither wants to, no matter how Nie Mingjue and Madam Yu pester them for children (they're looking around for likely orphans or adoption possibilities, pregnant women who might not want their offspring once born so maybe they can fake it...)

And if Jiang Cheng starts to fall in love with Huaisang, especially as Huaisang gets more comfortable and increasingly just acts like "one of the boys"...

And if Huaisang falls in love with his husband, especially as Jiang Cheng seems to accept him even when he acts naturally and like himself...

...well obviously that love will never go anywhere, because Huaisang doesn't know that Jiang Cheng is gay, and Juang Cheng doesn't know that Huaisang is a man, and obviously their fragile understanding will fall apart if either dares own the truth.

(it takes a long time for them to actually get their heads out of their asses and talk - they both confide in Wei Wuxian, who immediately starts conspiring with his friend Lan Wangji to force them to honesty with each other….meanwhile Huaisang is determined to murder that word “friend” as applies to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji - but once they DO start talking, it takes about 3.5 seconds for them to each acknowledge they’re hopelessly in love with the other)

Chapter Text

Parker had never met anyone she hated more than Alec Hardison. He was prim. He was proper. He worried about everything . They could hardly have a conversation without him freaking out over some nothing or other.

“No, Parker, it’s too dangerous for you to measure the height of the cliff by rappelling from the top!”

“...but it’ll be fun…”

“Parker, for the love of my Nana, just wait for the bear to leave!”

“’s just a bear, Hardison…”

“Do. Not. Take. The school trip. To. Dead. Man’s. Gulch. DID YOU HEAR THAT NAME? DEAD. MAN’S. GULCH. Does that sound like a place for children?”

“...I went there as a child…”

“Exactly, and just…” Hardison made a gesture at her like somehow that proved anything.


“Would you both shut up?” 

Honestly, if not for Ranger Spencer playing mediator, they’d have murdered each other (actually, no. Hardison was a wuss. He’d have been murdered; Parker had firearms training and wasn’t afraid to use it). Instead, they avoided each other as much as possible. Parker focused on park management, exploration, and - when she had to - public relations. Hardison focused on their website, their phone app, their interactive tour, and a bunch of other useless bullshit that at least kept him out of her hair. Spencer jumped between a lot of tasks, but seemed most enthusiastic when they had to handle wildlife (and no, school kids didn’t count as wildlife, and yes, Parker had asked, repeatedly.)

They were the only three full time employees at Ashford State Park.

It could be worse.

They could be on fire.

(Parker had seriously considered it once or twice...or every day…)

Spencer, on the other hand...him, Parker liked. He was no-nonsense, down to earth, knowledgeable, shockingly competent in a really random range of areas. (“It’s a very distinctive squirrel tail, okay?” “It’s a very distinctive maple.” “It’s a very distinctive bird call.” “It’s a very distinctive bird print.” She’d never thought real people had catch phrases and she snickered every damn time something bizarre came up and he launched into yet another, “it’s a very distinctive…”) He made her laugh, and he didn’t take himself too seriously, and he was adorable when he got flustered.

She might have a smidge of a crush.

The only thing she didn’t like about him?

“God, Hardison is at it again ,” she’d grumble, and Spencer would shake his head and roll his eyes.

“Would you lay off the guy? He’s doing good work too. That app he made has doubled park attendance in the last year! We’d all be out of jobs if it wasn’t for him.”

“ don’t know that…” She knew she sounded petulant...and Spencer knew it too, staring her down for her ridiculousness.

Yeah, they’d have been boned without Hardison’s digital outreach efforts. His dumb ass Facebook group had like 8,000 fans. His instagram had 12,000 followers. His twitter - a constant stream of some stupid pictures with random words over them that he called memes, and videos of feral cats, and anecdotes about weird shit patrons did - was inching up on 50,000...twitterpates...or tweety birds...or whatever the fuck they were called.

Parker didn’t care.

She didn’t need any of that.

(She totally needed all of that - or, at least, the park did.)

They were just...never going to see eye to eye. 


It was the spelunking that really drove Hardison nuts (even though he had to acknowledge, the videos of Parker’s . For some reason, he always thought that Parker was going to plummet to her death - like she didn’t have years of experience climbing, exploring, mounting a harness. Her knowledge of the field was literally why she was hired; the State Park featured extensive cave features, and they required a dedicated ranger who could navigate underground.

Still, okay...the time when Hardison was at the top of the cliff, and she played a game of chicken with him, ending in her throwing herself off the escarpment when he thought she wasn’t wearing protective equipment… if she’d ever be that dumb, even to piss him off...

...that might have taken their game a little too far.

“Are you out of your mind?” God, Hardison never sounded dumber when he was hysterical over some absolutely, perfectly safe thing that Parker had done.

“Are you an idiot?” she retorted.

“Quit pretending you’re a bird, Parker!”

“Well, I’d rather be a bird than a...a...a fish! Cause that’s you are, a helpless, dumb fish stuck on land, acting like you’re always about to suffocate. Why do you even leave the office?”

“To keep you from accidentally killing yourself! And I’m not a fish! I’m a...a skink. A majestic, noble skink. And I--”

And that’s when Spencer (and where the hell had he been?) stepped in. “Both of you, enough ,” he snarled. “Hardison - we’ve been through this a zillion times. Parker is just egging you on. She knows what she’s doing. Relax, already. And Parker - stop teasing him. I get that you want in his pants but save that for after work. Taking chances just because you like getting a rise out of him is insane, and dangerous, and you will get hurt if you keep it up.”

“...she wants what ?” said an astonished Hardison.

“You think I - you think we - oh my God,” she spluttered. “You have never been more wrong about anything.”

“You have a very distinctive flirting style.”

“Like you’d know, you’ve been ignoring me for months!” she retorted.

“You want Eliot ?” said a still-astonished Hardison.

“I wouldn’t touch Hardison if he were the last man on earth!”

“Harsh! And I’m a noble skink, thank you very much!”

“That was you flirting ?” asked Spencer.

It takes 20 minutes for them all to calm down enough to have a sensible conversation.

It takes another 40 minutes for Parker to acknowledge...there might have been some justice in what Spencer said.

It takes 15 minutes after that for Hardison to acknowledge he was only so worried because he really, really liked Parker.

It takes yet another 23 minutes (not that Parker was counting) for Spencer to admit he kinda had the hots for both of them but since they seemed to hate each other so much he hadn’t felt he could approach either of them about it.

And it takes 3 hours, 53 minutes and 12 seconds before their shift ends and the three of them can act on the revelations of the day.

The wake up the next morning in a content snuggle pile in Spencer’s surprisingly modest, comfortable, modern home.

Work at Ashford State Park is about to get a lot more interesting…

...especially after hours…

...and Parker really can’t wait.

(she has so, so many more ideas for ways she can fly and freak the ever-loving fuck out of Hardison)

(preferably while Spencer is there to kiss him calm again afterwards)