When they were young, as Loki remembers it, there would be days when they were inseparable. ((thorki. post- Avengers, pre- Thor 2))

I will not cave under you, for my heart is an unending tomb. I will not trouble your rest, for my heart is infinity blessed. Coda to 9.10 ("Road Trip"). Angst. Hurt but mehh not that much comfort.

"And while Dean is absolutely dreading being seen in his current state by literally thousands of people, it's the reaction of a certain defensive lineman that really scares him (especially since this whole thing is basically his fault). And also Jo's." In which Dean loses a bet and ends up in, well, read it and see. HSAU, cheerleader!Dean, jock!Cas. Smut, language, plot (oops).

He sat down to write a speech and found that something else came to him instead. Bittersweet drabble (in tandem with The Sign of Three).

written for a friend on tumblr with the prompt "snily first kiss B)". the story is set when they're about twelve or so. just some cutesy fluff from your friendly neighbourhood fic author ((it's pre-series, so it could be books or movies or w/e i don't think it matters)).

"It's January, right? Shit." ((a very very very belated birthday fic for one Dean Winchester. WARNING: MAJOR ANGST/SUICIDAL THOUGHTS. also explicit sexual content and a whole lotta coarse language))

(an open letter to the Messiah)

You loved him Nicky, don't you lie.

Will can hear the desire buzzing in the air between them- here, they are on even ground. Nature's laws must be observed- food, sex, sleep. For Will, killing has fed a sense of self that, until now, he has been afraid to name. Food, sex, sleep. Nature's laws must be observed. ((post-2x09. PWP))

Valentine's Day. Their first one as a couple, and it appears that they've both completely forgotten. Sherlock of course has never been the sentimental type, but still... ((fluff that I wrote for Valentine's day 2014. it was supposed to be a multi-chapter affair, but I've decided to nix that and just post it as it is))

When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it. ((a poem about the Dean Winchester of Purgatory, from the perspective of its residents)).

When Will Graham wakes up in a hospital, with the sharp white walls and the piercing smell of cleanliness, he is both shocked and in pain. Shocked to be alive at all; in pain because he is. (post-season two, mentions of Hannibal/Will, violence, sexual content).

"There was a tradition in Spartan culture that when warriors left to do battle, their mothers or wives would hand the men their shields and say "return with your shield or upon it". Victory or death. There was nothing else." Bucky has always been Steve's shield. Steve never thought he'd come back without him. ((there's a happy ending in here I promise))

"In the late afternoon silence they can hear only each other's breathing, and the ever-present urge Steve has to kiss Bucky wells up inside his chest, making his heart skip a beat (or two) when he thinks of how he can when he's here. This is their home. This is a safe place." Pre-serum Steve, loads of schmoopy late-night fluff for a friend. Enjoy!

Cas looks him in the eyes, in the empty black eyes and says "I love you- no matter what." Dean closes his eyes and realises- he no longer knows what that means. ((spoilers for 9x23))

"Hey Steve, if I asked you to marry me, could I say 'I'm with you 'til the end of the aisle?" It took Steve five minutes to stop laughing and then ten more to stop kissing Bucky long enough to say yes. ((the stevebucky wedding fic I never imagined writing)).

"Every morning, Bucky wakes up loved." More late night drabble for a friend. (Post Winter Soldier). Short and sweet and fluffy.

"I was so alone, and I owe you so much." Reichenbach au wherein Moriarty didn't shoot himself and is in fact still wandering the living world. Basically a rehash of the final scene in the cemetery. Angst, sadness, you get it. (more two A.M. drabble for you).

"Oh, I see... you're afraid you'll taint me, aren't you, Doctor Lecter?" "My dear Will," He murmurs fondly, the swing of the pendulum restarting again, "I'm afraid I already have." ((pseudo fluff, midnight drabble)).

"Would you tell me if it was really important?" He asks, wishing that Sherlock would look him in the eye so he knows they understand each other. Sherlock sighs, almost inaudibly. "Yes, John, I would. Honest." And he looks John, in the eye, but only for the moment that John's name crosses his lips. ((two AM drabble. Fluff. Boys kissing. The usual.))