“Colinnn. Shut up.” grumbles Bradley from under his pillow. His roommate is making an obscene amount of noise and dragging things around the room. And…barking?

“COLI…was that a dog?” Bradley lifts his head up off the bed and peers out from under the pillow. Colin is standing at the foot of his bed, looking sheepish, with a tiny yellow lab puppy in his arms. Bradley rolls his eyes and falls back onto the pillow. 

“Colin. Why?” he says, closing his eyes again. Maybe he’s dreaming. 

“Oh c’mon. Just look at him. Is he not the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen?” Colin says.

“Murghhhh” Bradley grumbles, “Where did you get it?”

“It’s a he, Bradley. And one of the ladies from costumes. Her dog just had a litter. I told her we’d keep him.” Colin says, and Bradley opens his eyes.

“We?” he says, staring at Colin, who blushes. 

“I did..I mean. I. I told her that I’d keep him.” he says, and Bradley smiles, because Colin’s blush touches just the top of his cheekbones and he’s so cute that Bradley gives in.

“He can stay, Col. Don’t get flustered.” says Bradley, sitting up and stretching. Colin beams at him.

“Good! Now what’s his name. I was thinking…” says Colin, blushing again. The dog seems to like Colin’s blush as much as Bradley does, and he stretches up and licks Colin’s cheekbone before snuffling in his ear. Colin giggles and Bradley’s heart actually flutters. 

“I was thinking..” Colin starts again, “Arthur. Y’know since he’s, blonde and..”

“Colin.” Bradley interrupts him, “That’s a great name. Best name ever, actually. But if you don’t put him down and come over here and kiss me right now I will be forced to kill you.”

———

Sorry it took so long, I was distracted. But it came out fairly cute and it gave me warm fuzzies to write.

:D

“What is this place?” asked Amy, standing in the doorway, surveying the landscape in front of her. She looked back over her shoulder into the TARDIS, expecting an answer.

Instead, The Doctor brushed past her out the door and into the strange city’s streets. He was wearing a huge silver helmet with giant wings on either side. 

“This, Amelia Pond, is Asgard. And we just happened to arrive in the middle of the Great Cheese Festival!” he said, gesturing to hundreds of booths selling thousands of kinds of cheese.

“Sorry, cheese festival?” said Amy, spinning around to see everything.

“Yes. Every five years, the Asgardians throw the biggest party in the glaxy, and it all revolves around one thing, cheese!” exclaimed The Doctor, picking a piece of cheese off of a tray and popping it in his mouth. 

Amy laughed, staring in wonder at the hundreds of gleaming buildings surrounding her Doctor, who was eating a square of gouda in a war helmet. 

“This is brilliant!” she said, hooking their arms together.

“Wait till you see the royal party tonight.” he said, leading her down the street.

“Ooooh. I love a good party.” Amy said, smiling. 

——-

“Who’s that?” Amy said, pointing at a tall man with wavy blonde hair who was built like a brick wall. They were in the crowded ballroom of the royal palace, leaning against a table laden with every type of cheese imaginable, along with several hundred types of beer.

“That, Amelia, is the royal prince, Thor of Asgard.” said The Doctor. As soon as the word “prince” was out of his mouth, Amy was crossing the room, cutting through the crowd, and extending her hand towards the blonde. 

The Doctor chuckled to himself and turned back to the cheese table. 

He didn’t see Amy again until later that night, when he was dancing with a group of kids, all dressed in yellow. She came up to him, smiling, and slid her chin onto his shoulder. 

“I.” she said, “Have just snogged the God of Thunder.” 

——————

You’re welcome, Emily. 

Dean hates it when Cas cries. Those deep blue eyes fill up with tears and Dean can’t take it.

So Cas took to hiding whenever he cried, but he always hid in the same place, the guest bathroom on the second floor. Dean always knew where he was, but he never went and comforted him. He figured Cas would want to be saved the humiliation of having Dean see him cry. 

This time, however, Dean waited an hour, and Cas still hadn’t emerged from the bathroom, so he went to find him. He wasn’t in the bathroom. Dean checked every room in the house, until he found Cas in the backyard, drinking a beer and standing in front of a mound of dirt under the huge oak that shaded the house. 

Dean hesitated in the doorway, then sighed and crossed the yard, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. Cas instinctively leaned back into Dean. 

“I miss him too,” Dean said gently. 

“I just…we’ve had him for ten years,” Cas said, his voice breaking, “I keep expecting him to run around the corner of the house..”

“With one of your shoes in his mouth?” Dean said, smiling a little.

Cas offers a small chuckle. “That dog sure did love footwear,” he said.

“He’d always pick my work shoes, too.” said Dean, fondly.

“He had good taste.” said Cas, and this time Dean laughed out loud. Cas sighed, turning around in Dean’s arms and resting his forehead against Dean’s. 

“What would I do without you?” he said, softly.

Dean just smiled and kissed him. 

—————-

*evil cackling*. I accidentally AUed. 

Just this once, everybody lives! Except for their dog. Who I named “Cap” cause Dean loved The Avengers comics. 

This is a little sickeningly sweet. But weddings are always sickeningly sweet, so there you have it.

     Hunters don’t get to be happy. The Winchesters know that, maybe more than anybody. They’ve had more than their fair share of disaster, heartbreak and disappointment. They’ve lost everything, broken down, and had to pull themselves back together again.
    Dean had let it make him bitter, and he woke up every morning with three shots of whiskey and a heart full of anger. He spent so long being spiteful that he almost forgot what it was to be happy. Almost.
    Dean adjusts his tie in the mirror, and runs his palms over his suit jacket. He turns to one side, and then the other, and suppresses the urge to laugh. He’s not used to being this happy. He hasn’t stopped smiling all day. He tries, and attempts a grimace at himself in the mirror, but he looks constipated, which makes him smile wider. There’s a sharp knock at his door, and his brother’s voice is urgent,
    “Dean. Dean. Open up. We have a problem.” Dean’s heart flips and he’s so sure for a moment that something has gone horribly wrong, and it seems fitting, that even this day would be ruined for the Winchesters, but then he opens the door and this time he laughs out loud, and he can’t seem to stop. Sam is standing in the hallway, looking like a giraffe in a tux, his hand resting on Cas’s shoulder. Cas’s bow tie is in a giant knot at his neck. Dean makes eye contact with his brother over Cas’s head and Sam is pressing his lips together, trying not to laugh. He grins, a big, lopsided, dimpled grin, the one that Dean had been sure he’d never see again. It was Sammy’s smile, and Dean couldn’t help but smile back.
    He looks back at Cas, who gives him a small smile, with one corner of his mouth and says,
    “This tie has proved to be…problematic.”
    “Yeah, I can see that, Cas. Come here.” Dean says, and without thinking, he grabs Cas’s hand and pulls him gently into the room. It’s an uncharacteristic moment of gentleness, but Dean doesn’t care. Not today. He rubs his thumb softly over Cas’s palm before he lets go and reaches up to fix the disaster that is Cas’s tie.
    “Wow, Cas. You really fucked this up, didn’t you?” Dean says, but he’s smiling, and Cas fucking blushes, and that’s it, it’s over. Dean feels the warmth in his chest spread through his whole body, and he’s never been this happy in his entire, sorry excuse for a life. He wants to tell Cas somehow, let him know that he loves him, loves this, loves everything, but he can’t find words, so he just stares at Cas’s crooked smile. His mouth opens and closes noiselessly, and Cas looks up at him, eyebrows pressing together, and cocks his head. He leans forward and whispers, soft and slow, in a voice full of urgency,
    “I love you too, Dean.” Dean wants to laugh, wants to tease him, and make some wisecrack about chick flick moments, but he can’t seem to breathe. That’s new.
    He looks away from Cas’s face and down at the tie, his fingers working through the knot, loosening it, until he’s undone all of Castiel’s handiwork. He reties it gently, and presses it down into place.
    Dean turns around and glances at his brother, who is lost in his own thoughts, staring out of the window in the hallway.
    “Hey Sammy. You good?” he asks, his voice warm and full of the smile that is probably frozen on his face by now. Sam doesn’t look away from the window, but offers a small,
    “Yeah. More than good.”
    “What’re you looking at?” Dean asks, but he kind of already knows. Sam turns at that, giving his brother a small smile.
    “Her.”
    And for a second Dean thinks maybe, just maybe, happiness is something that they’re allowed to have.

I’m bored and my ask box is open and anon is on so go leave me pairings and prompts and I’ll fill ‘em for you.

I’d love some cross-fandom pairings because those are my very favorites, but I’ll write whatever you guys want.

Fic: Forgetting

Pairing: Dean/Cas, Dean/Jo

Description: Dean can’t seem to let go.

Her hair smells like cheap shampoo, like fake flowers and soap. It’s fanned out over the pillow, and Dean stares at her, stares at her chest, rising and falling, her ribs, small and fragile underneath her pale skin. Dean stares at the way the streetlight outside the window lights up her hair, shining gold against the scratchy pillow case. He leans down and rubs his thumb across her temple, brushing hair off of her face, and he stares at her eyelashes, resting against her cheeks. She’s lovely, he thinks.

…

Read More

I can’t tell if I hate you for this one or if I want to hug you because it is brilliant. We’ll just have to see

———————-

It’s just before dawn, and Merlin wakes up with a start, sitting up in bed, and for a moment he can’t figure out where he is. When he finally makes sense of his surroundings, he’s even more confused. He’s in Arthur’s bed, in Arthur’s chambers, and Arthur doesn’t seem to be there. His heart starts to pound, and he can’t remember how he got here or what happened the night before.

“Arthur?” he whispers, his voice rasping strangely in his throat. Actually, now that he thinks about it, his whole body feels strange, like he doesn’t quite fit in his skin. Weird. He thinks, but he’s got bigger problems, so he pulls the blankets off the bed and discovers something else. He’s naked.

“What the fuck is going on?” he whispers to himself, and he swears that he sounded like Arthur for a moment. He crosses the room quickly and pulls open Arthur’s wardrobe, grabbing the closest item of clothing he can find, a bright red shirt, and as he tugs it over his head, he’s surprised how well it fits him. Maybe he’s getting stronger. That thought makes him grin, but it fades and his momentary happiness is replaced with more butterflies and anxiety. He turns to look at himself in the still-darkened windows. When he sees his reflection, he very nearly passes out, because it’s not his face that he sees in the window, it’s Arthur’s.

He raises his eyebrows, and window-Arthur raises his eyebrows too, and when he crinkles his forehead in confusion, so does Arthur.

“Oh, no.” he says, and Arthur’s mouth moves too. He touches his face, and catches sight of his hands. Arthur’s hands. He can’t beleive he didn’t notice it before. He loves those hands, he’s watched them for hours, gripping the handle of Arthur’s sword, holding the reins of Arthur’s horse. They’re strong, but soft and gentle too. Or Merlin always guessed they’d be. Now he knows, because he’s running them over his face. Well, Arthur’s face. He’s leaning in closer to the window to look into his- Arthur’s- eyes, when the doors bang open.

He jumps, and turns to see himself shoving through the doors, fully dressed, and it takes him a moment, but his brain catches up quickly and he realizes that this must be Arthur.

“MERLIN” shouts Arthur, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t…sire..I..is that really what I look like when I’m cross?” Merlin asks, suppressing a chuckle, but Arthur doesn’t seem to find any humor in their current situation.

“Obviously this is the work of a sorcerer.” Arthur says, “We need to get this sorted out right away. I can’t have myself looking like a clotpole of a servant forever.”

“Right. Yeah. And I can’t imagine anything worse than people thinking I’m a royal pra….Arthur?”

“Yes, Merlin?”

“Did you..did you put on my scarf?” and with that, Merlin has the strange experience of watching himself blush.

“I..yes. It..It suits you.”

Merlin grins, and he feels Arthur’s signature charming smile spread across his face.

————

asdhajsdh for the record that was my first time ever writing Merthur.

Dean slammed Bobby’s front door shut and took pride in the metallic bang that echoed across the scrap yard. He hated fighting with Sam. Even more than that, he hated fighting with Sam and Amy. He and The Doctor butted heads constantly, that was nothing new, but there had always been something about Amy that he’d been drawn to. Maybe it was the way she never needed saving, or her rough Scottish accent, but Dean and Amy had been close from the get go, and they rarely fought. In fact, it was almost always Amy that came and found him after he’d stormed off, still pissed at Sammy. She’d been the only one who’d been able to calm him down when Cas had left.

Cas. The name itself was like a knife in his gut. Don’t think about him, you idiot,  he reminded himself. Don’t think about how he left you, don’t think about how they all leave you, don’t…

“FUCK” he screamed, so loudly that the word burned his throat. He grabbed a crowbar from where it had been leaning against one of the wrecked cars in Bobby’s lot and raised it above his head. He was about to bring in down through the windsheild of the nearest car, a rusted blue pickup that was missing two wheels, when someone grabbed his arm.

“DEAN. Stop.” Amy said, shifting in front of him so she was in between the crowbar and the truck, “What is this going to solve, Dean?”

“Amy. Move.” he growled, gritting his teeth. He didn’t want to see her now, he didn’t want to see any of them now, he just wanted to be alone. What was it she’d said to him? “He’s gone, Dean. He’s not coming back. You’ve got to let him go.” He set the crowbar down, and turned his back on her. What did she know? What the fuck did she know about losing everyone you’ve ever loved? How could she ever understand?

“Go. Away.” he snarled through closed teeth.

“You’re being ridiculous, you know,” she said, resting a hand on his shoulder and gently turning him around to face her. “We’re trying to help. Sam, me, The Doctor, we’re all trying to help. Don’t you see that?” She slid her hand down from his shoulder and rested it on his chest, straightening out his jacket. She tugged on one of the buttons. “He’s gone, Dean. But we’re still here. All of us. Dean. Look at me. I’m here.”

Dean raised his eyes slowly to meet hers, and willed himself not to cry. Not now, not here, you freaking baby. She reached her hand up and cupped his face with it, running her thumb across his cheek. He let himself close his eyes and lean into her touch, just for a moment. Then he pulled it away, squeezing her hand lightly before letting it go and turning his back on her again. “You’ll leave.” he said, voice thick and heavy.

“Dean Winchester. You shut up, and you shut up right now. I told you, I’m not going anywhere.” She said, and Dean almost smiled at how thick her Scottish accent got when she was angry.

“That’s bull, sweetheart. You’ll leave. You and The Doctor will run off in that freaky ass box and Sammy and I will be here dealing with all the bullshit that comes with living in the real world. So don’t lie to me. Not you.” he yelled, whipping around and screaming in her face.

“Oh shut up,” she said, shoving him backwards against the rusted truck. She pressed her palm against his chest to keep him in place. “Stop whining. Oh, boo-hoo, you’re all alone. Everybody leaves you. You complete and utter arse.” As if for emphasis, she pressed her lips firmly against his and kissed him fiercely, grabbing the back of his head. He kissed her back, without thinking, and grabbed onto the side of her face. “Is this real enough for you, Dean Winchester?” she growled, her eyes burning straight into his, and he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do, all he knew was that every nerve in his body was on fire and he felt alive for the first time in months. They stood there for a moment, before he wound one hand into her flaming red hair and pulled their lips together again.

———-

Yeah that was longer than I expected it to be. It was going to be longer but I stopped myself.

Thank you for introducing me to my new favorite ship. Amy and Dean are kind of amazing to write. :D

So if you drop a pairing and a one word prompt in my ask, I’ll write you a mini ficlet thing.

Except this time I only want cross-fandom pairings. (for example: Blaine Anderson/Rose Tyler) because I want to be creative and so on.

Also I should note that since I am lazy I probably will not be able to fill all your prompts, but you never know.

Prompts Go Here

Andrew nudges Jesse with his elbow.

“Jess. Jess. Watch this part. This part is the best.” he says, digging his elbow into Jesse’s ribs.

“You say that about every part.” Jesse says, glancing sideways at his boyfriend, who is staring intently at the screen.

“I know. I know. But this time I mean it. Now watch,” he says, pointing at the screen without looking away. “I can’t believe you’ve never seen The Princess Bride.”

“I don’t like movies.” Jesse says, fidgeting.

“I know but this is The Princess Bride” says Andrew, with emphasis on the title. This is…one of the best movies of all time.”

“You said that about The Lion King yesterday.” says Jesse.

“Shhhh.” says Andrew, leaning forward, towards the screen. Jesse smiles slightly at the back of his head.

Jesse tries to pay attention, he really does, but he’s too distracted watching Andrew enjoy the movie to enjoy the movie itself. Andrew’s completely engrossed in the movie, smiling and sighing at the romantic scenes, and laughing at the jokes. When it ends, Andrew turns to Jesse and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Well? What’d you think?” he says, tucking his feet underneath him and scooting forward on the couch.

“It was alright.” Jesse says, and Andrew’s face falls a little.

“Just alright? You weren’t paying attention, were you?” he says, crossing his arms.

“I…not exactly.” Jesse mumbles.

“Ughh. You are the worst. Go get my DVDs. We’re watching Lord of the Rings. And you are paying attention this time.” Jesse gets up and walks to the door, when he remembers a line from the beginning of the movie. He turns around, smiles and says,

“As you wish.”

“Hufflepuff.”

“What?” says Andrew, looking outraged, “Absolutely not. You think I’m a Hufflepuff?”

They’re sitting on their living room couch, and the fourth Harry Potter movie is paused on their TV. Jesse’s facing the TV, but Andrew is sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing Jesse and looking grumpy.

“Yes,” says Jesse, “Have you seen yourself?”

“Yes. And I am most definitely a Gryffindor. Remember that time I stopped you from walking out in front of a bus?” Andrew says, leaning forward on the sofa and looking at Jesse expectantly.

“Yes…but I think your sheer hipsterness automatically places you in Hufflepuff. Where many hipsters have gone before you.” Jesse’s laughing now, he can’t help himself, Andrew looks so serious that he can’t hold it in.

“Okay, first of all, “hipsterness” is not a word. And second, I am very heroic and also brave.” Andrew says indignantly.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a Hufflepuff, Andrew.” says Jesse, still giggling at the look on Andrew’s face. “What house am I in, then?”

“Slytherin.” says Andrew huffily.

“You’re just saying that because you’re pissed about being a Hufflepuff.” says Jesse.

“…irrelevant. You are very mean and conceited and an all-around horrible person… Fine. You’re a Ravenclaw, obviously,” says Andrew, leaning forward to tug on a loose thread in Jesse’s jeans. “Happy?”

“Yes.” says Jesse, grinning.

“Now can we go back to the movie, please?” says Andrew, grabbing the remote.

As soon as it starts playing, Andrew seems to have forgotten the arguement, and he spreads out across Jesse’s lap so his head is resting on Jesse’s knee. Jesse subconsciously reaches down and runs his fingers through Andrew’s hair. He leans down and whispers,

“You’re still a Hufflepuff.”

“No.” “C’mon. Just look at it. Its so cutee. Just hold it for a second.”

Andrew’s holding a tiny pink baby pig in his arms, and looking up at Jesse with giant pleading eyes. He sticks his bottom lip out, which makes Jesse roll his eyes.

“Why are we doing this again?” Jesse asks, arms folded.

“Because, my tiny, nerdy friend, we live two miles from a farm and we have yet to come visit it, which is practically a crime. Now touch the pig.” says Andrew, nuzzling his nose against the top of the piglet’s head.

“You are a nightmare. And it smells terrible in here.” says Jesse, gesturing to the barn and the pig sty. “That pig was literally just rolling in his own poop. I am not touching it.” Andrew grins wickedly, and holds the pig up to the side of Jesse’s face. Jesse flinches away, and Andrew laughs.

“It’s a baby pig. It’s not going to hurt you.”

“You don’t know that.” Jesse says, but he can feel his mood starting to lift. The image of Andrew with a baby animal is not something that he can exactly be angry at.

“Yes, yes I do. Aw, look. Somebody likes you.” Andrew says, pointing at the ground by Jesse’s feet with his free hand. Jesse looks down. There are at least ten baby chickens at his feet, and one of them is pecking at the toe of his sneaker. Jesse tries to look angry, but he can’t hold back a grin, and he tugs on his lip with his teeth and meets Andrew’s eye.

“Go on. Pick it up.” Andrew says, still pointing at the chick. Jesse rolls his eyes, but reaches down and scoops up the tiny baby chick in his hands. He strokes it’s head with his finger and it peeps at him. He smiles.

“So are you glad we came?” Andrew asks, grinning from ear to ear and still holding the piglet.

“Shut up.”

“Andrew. What is this?”

Jesse’s standing in the kitchen in his pajama pants, holding the fridge door open with his hip and peering into the meat drawer.

“What’s what Jess?” says Andrew with a yawn, rounding the corner and rubbing his eyes. He’s only wearing boxers and a white v-neck, and his hair is sticking up in a million directions, but Jesse can’t help but stare for a minute to appreciate the absolute gorgeousness that is sleepy Andrew. “Jess?” he asks again, tilting his head.

“Oh. Right.” says Jesse, remembering why he was annoyed in the first place, “This. What is it?” he asks, holding up the package of meat.

“That’s…bacon, Jess.”

“This is not bacon, Andrew. This is ham.”

“It’s Canadian Bacon, babe.” says Andrew, stretching and crossing the kitchen to reach around Jesse and grab the orange juice out of the fridge.

“Alright…well..how do I cook your fancy foreign bacon?” asks Jesse, turning the package over in his hands before glancing up at his boyfriend. Andrew stops pouring his orange juice and heaves an overly-dramatic sigh before snatching the bacon away from Jesse.

Jesse smiles to himself and pours a bowl of Corn Flakes before he sits down at the kitchen table. He loves watching Andrew cook. He’s not the best cook in the world, and more often than not, he even burns toast, but Andrew gets so into it that it’s mesmerizing. And on top of that, Andrew sings when he cooks.

He takes out a frying pan and turns the stove on high, ripping the bacon open with his teeth. He’s already humming, something by The Beatles, Jesse thinks, but he can’t make out the tune yet. It’s not until the bacon’s in the pan and sizzling that he really starts singing, tapping his fingers on the counter while he pokes at the meat with a wooden spoon.

“Here comes the sun, doo doo doo doo”

Jesse grins, biting his lip.

“Little darling, it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter”

By now Andrew’s banging the spoon on the stove, keeping time and sort of swaying back and forth.

When he decides the bacon’s done, he flips it out of the pan and onto a plate, grabbing a fork and knife out of a drawer before reaching back and pushing the drawer closed with his foot. Jesse’s eyes follow him all the way to the table as he slides into the seat across from his own.

“I love you.” he says, and Andrew looks up and beams at him.

“Try this,” he says, cutting a piece of the bacon and holding it up to Jesse. Jesse leans forward and eats it, chewing slowly.

“This…is just ham.” he says, swallowing.

Andrew laughs, and it’s Jesse’s favorite laugh, with his whole body shaking slightly and his eyes crinkling at the corners. Jesse can’t help but smile back. Andrew leans forward across the table and kisses him lightly.

“I love you, too.”

Come onnn. Gimme something original. Turd.

*huff*

I’ll write you a little one if you promise to give me a better prompt.

….

“Jess. Jess. Get. It. Off.”

“Andrew. It’s a butterfly.” says Jesse, looking incredulous.

“I know it’s a butterfly, you arse, now get it off of me.” says Andrew, standing completely still, trying not to disturb the tiny yellow butterfly on his left shoulder. “Jessss.”

“You’re afraid..of butterflies?” says Jesse, unable to control his grin.

“Jesse!”

“Alright, alright.” Jesse says, reaching forward and waving his hand at the butterfly, making it flit its wings and fly up and over Andrew’s head to land on a nearby flower. Jesse follows it with his eyes for a moment, and turns back to Andrew. “Okay. One more time, you’re afraid of butterflies? You?”

“Yes. They’re horrible.” Andrew says, lifting his arms to check for other lingering insects.

“Lucky I was here, then,” says Jesse, “I may have just saved your life.”

“Yes, you’re my nerd in shining armor” says Andrew, throwing his arm around Jesse’s shoulder and laughing.