#bay fic

[bourbonbucky]

Thor had learned, slowly according to Loki, that sometimes the only thing to do was to steal back by force that which had been taken from you.

ya boy comin’ at ya with another thorki fic lol

[transdreamsicle]

this is never gonna be finished, so fuck it

Dean had heard of this place, the Labyrinth of Enoch, but he’d never seen more than blurry photos. The caravan was still at least three miles away as they traversed a winding mountain path, but the city was plainly visible. There were no walls reaching for the sky to protect the people within. The protection came from the dead-ends and false paths for the first mile of the city’s outer perimeter.

From here, Dean could see trails between empty houses that suddenly cut off into nothing. Castiel had explained it. No one lived in any of the buildings at the edge of the city. Invading forces were funneled into thousands of dead-end paths. There were hundreds of miles of these empty trails surrounding the city, and out of that there were only ever four or five paths into a populated area. Those changed every few months as new walls were built to connect houses together and others were knocked down for new walking space. It was impressive, what they’d done. While Dean’s forefathers obsessed over the perfect stone to stop canons, and then guns, Castiel’s people took a much simpler route.

The path got wider near the base of the mountain, and the party went from following behind a single wagon to having five horses side by side. Castiel rode beside him, sitting tall and proud. His lips were painted a deep red, and his eyes were surrounded by gold. He was a beautiful sight. Dean looked away, back to the city that would become his home.

Tall, lush grasses filled the valley surrounding the city of Enoch. Wind coming down over the mountains kept the grass from ever being still. It moved like the ocean, waves and swirls that bent and twisted the blades. As the horses navigated it, Dean felt like he could even see ripples radiating from them. The grasses brushed his boots, coming up to the horses’ chests. When he was this close Dean could see the size of the buildings that formed the perimeter. Twice as tall as Sam, maybe three times, it made sense to him why no army had ever succeeded with an invasion. You couldn’t even climb over the buildings and try to run straight over.

The caravan turned to the right, toward the towering falls that thundered in the distance. Dean looked back at Castiel and found his new husband looking at him already. Castiel smiled, the curve of his lips glossy and wet to the point that Dean was almost shocked they weren’t dripping. He offered a smile to Castiel, then turned back to face forward.

The caravan entered the city, and Castiel kicked his leg, gesturing to a white brick once he had Dean’s attention. Dean looked for the white bricks as they wound their way through the maze of empty houses. Six white bricks, a right turn, then five and a left, four and another right, three and another right, two and a left, then one more and they turned left and poured out onto a wide road.

Hundreds of people lined the street on either side, watching them as they returned. It wasn’t as loud of a homecoming as Dean was used to. People would cheer for their returning princes back home. Here, they were as filled with love and adoration, but it was quiet. They threw flowers and grains. One young girl ran up to Dean’s horse and gave him a silk scarf dyed a deep crimson. She wore a similar one over her head. He bowed his head to her and smiled, losing sight of her as soon as the party turned again.

Castiel chuckled and extended a hand for the scarf. Dean gave it to him and watched as he ran his fingers over it, then sniffed it. If it was perfumed, Dean didn’t think he’d be able to tell. Everything here smelled of something else. Castiel gave the scarf back, and Dean laid it over his horse’s neck.

The crowd got thicker as they approached the center of the city. Merchants and wealthy elite alike poured out, hands full of presents raised above their heads. The gifts were gathered by squires, or whatever equivalent Castiel’s people had, who then placed all the gifts in any wagon that had room.

Castiel’s eyes were a weight on his skin, pressing against him starting at the knee, then lazing up his body until they reached his face. The first time they met was on the battlefield just after the war had started. Dean had thought he was riding up to Michael. Men dragged in the dead to be burned, the moaning of those who’d survived was all anyone could hear. Dean had ridden up to give Michael the new plans after the heavy losses they’d sustained. What greeted him instead was Castiel.

Dean was pulled from his thoughts when the party came to a halt. He looked at Castiel, finding him staring intently forward, and followed his gaze. The castle had no spires or towers, no high-seated battlements, no turrets, or even a gate, but there could be no mistaking that it was a palace.

Guards dressed in flowing robes with tall spears stood roughly four paces apart. Between them were open archways that lead into the sprawling royal home. It was the only building within the perimeter that Dean had yet seen with two floors. Balconies jutted out from the upper level, filled with men and women wearing loose-fitting silks with their skin covered in shimmering powders and bright pigments.

Dean turned to Castiel and tried to keep his voice quiet, “is that the royal court?”

Castiel looked at the same people Dean was observing and a grin curled his red lips, “if I told you they were prostitutes would you know the difference?”

Dean raised an eyebrow and paused, glancing back at the group, then back at his husband, “you want me to be honest?”

Castiel shook his head and laughed, his shoulders falling a bit as he relaxed into a slouch. He stopped laughing after a moment and said, “that is the royal court, yes.”

Dean nodded and looked at them more closely. They didn’t wear as much jewelry as nobles where he grew up, and definitely not as much clothing. This was his new royal court, and he was their newest prince.

[bourbonbucky]

i am 100% kastle trash so here’s a ficlet

Frank stares up at the moon and lets the cold bite at his body. He tries to let his shoulders relax, but he knows it won’t happen until she shows up. The list of people who look him in the eye and call him on his bullshit is short, but Karen is at the top. She’s fearless, and he... it’s one of the things he admires most about her. 

Foot steps approach, and he smiles because he already knows it’s her. “I’m supposed to meet a friend here named Pete. You seen him?”

Frank laughs and turns to face her. “Will you settle for Frank Castle?”

Karen smiles. “I wouldn’t call that settling.”

The water flows past, waves lapping at the rocks beneath them. He can barely speak when he looks at her. She’s so soft looking it kills him. 

Frank looks away for a second, opens his mouth to make some smartass remark, but she’s flying toward him and he has a flashback. For goddamn once it’s not about war, it’s the hug in her apartment. She’s warm for such a little thing, and she’s wrapping her arms around him like she’ll never let go. 

He holds her just as tight. 

I want there to be an after.

Frank sighs and buries his face into her hair. After. It’s fucking terrifying. Karen pulls back just enough to press a kiss into his temple, and he shakes. 

After. 

“You said Pete is free. Is it over, Frank?” Karen sounds like she’s about to cry, and Frank just squeezes her tighter. 

He nods. “Yeah. Yeah it’s over.”

“Oh my god.” Karen sobs into his shoulder. “I was so scared.”

Frank’s eyes burn. “You and me both.”

Karen pulls back, and her eyes are glassy with tears but she’s smiling. “Can we talk? Somewhere that doesn’t have wind chill?” 

Frank smiles and lets her go, his whole body screaming at him not to. She leads him to her apartment, and he’s still doing his checks out of habit, but at least he doesn’t need to do three laps around the building. She all but shoves him down onto the couch while she calls for pizza. He laughs and sticks his hands up in surrender when she whips her head at him for shifting in his seat. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He glances around the room and sees the roses hanging upside-down, drying out so they can be preserved. 

Something tugs at him, just knowing that she kept part of him like that. Karen plops down next to him. “Pizza will be an hour, that’s what we get for ordering on a Saturday. Do you want a beer?” 

Frank chuckles. “I’ll take a beer.” 

Karen darts into the kitchen, and Frank follows her, almost silent since he kicked his boots off at the door. She turns and hands him his beer, not shocked to see him in the doorway. She knows him. 

They watch each other as they drink, silent and content. Frank thinks to himself, that this is what it’s like. No war on the horizon. It’s terrifying for him, but he can’t let that eclipse this. 

“Do you have a place to stay?” She asks him. 

Frank shrugs. “Got a motel room right now. It’s enough.”

She purses her lips. “You’re welcome here, anytime.”

Frank’s mouth quirks up at the corner. “Open invitation, that’s dangerous.”

Karen smiles. “We both know that you’re not dangerous to me.”

Warmth fills Frank’s chest and he takes a long drink of his beer. She went from almost shooting him to defending him against a US senator. Frank Castle isn’t a terrorist. 

“You feel safe with me?” He asks.

Karen’s brows knit together, and she tilts her head. “Of course.”

Frank sets his beer down on her kitchen counter and steps in close to her. She’s at ease, relaxed and smiling at him when he’s close enough that he feels her breath on his skin. Karen trusts him. After everything. After. 

He cups the back of her head and presses a kiss to her forehead. His eyes close and he just lets himself feel her warmth and his lips on her soft skin. Karen sighs and leans into it. When they part Frank feels something in himself unwinding. Muscles all over his body relax, tension bleeding from him in a wave. 

He swallows roughly. “I’ll have to take you up on that offer.”

Karen sets her beer down and grabs his face with both of her strong hands. “Good.”

Her fingers rub at his jaw, and Frank feels like he’s falling even further and faster than ever. At least he has a place to land now.

[bourbonbucky]

okay i’ve been kinda dying to post a preview of this kastle au i’m writing. it’s a witchy pagan-y au where frank held an oath to ares and did his work as the punisher, then once his oath is fulfilled he moves to the city where his friends are, which happens to be where karen lives. anyway, here’s a snippet. idk when it’ll be finished bc i’m not rushing it, but i am really excited about.

Frank wandered between groups of people, observing the crowd and his surroundings. The courtyard of the temple was lit with fires, people wore masks and there were small plays happening almost every fifty feet. The Great Dionysia was actually one of his favorite festivals. He could get piss drunk and watch people dance and have fun. Even during the war, he would try to make it to these feasts. Used to dance, even.

Attendants moved throughout the crowd with large trays holding fruit and small bowls of wine, others milling about with bins filling higher and higher with empty bowls. The smell of roasting meat filled the air, smoke rising high in the sky from the fires. Frank could almost let himself relax here.

He stopped walking when he saw Karen and Curtis standing side by side near the hearth fire. She said maybe they’d meet again at a festival, but he didn’t think it would be so soon. Curtis drank wine and laughed with her about something. They knew each other, were friends. Frank considered it, that his best friend was close to this woman he’d met. Something was happening, but he felt like he was three steps behind. Someone stepped up beside him, and he tensed for a moment before realizing it was just Red.

“Enjoying yourself, Frank?” He always sounded smug, even though he rarely was.

Frank shrugged. “I like this festival. I can get drunk and eat til I puke.”

Red, Matt, whichever he was in this city, laughed at that. “You do that anyway.”

Frank smirked and shook his head. “You’re really are a dick of an altar boy.”

Matt scoffed. “No wonder you and Karen get along.”

“What do you mean?” Frank asked.

“Karen has a sharp tongue, and she’s stubborn. I’m just not surprised that you ran into each other almost as soon as you moved to the city.” Matt grabbed a bowl of wine from a tray as it passed and took a long drink, then handed it to Frank.

Frank accepted it with thanks and savored the flavor of real, good wine. He finished the bowl and Matt grabbed another without a word. He glanced back to the fire at the center of the temple’s courtyard.

“Hey, what’s the deal with Karen standing up there with the priests?” Frank accepted this bowl, too, when Matt passed it to him. “I’m gonna want one without your backwash in it at some point.”

Matt smiled. “To answer your question, Karen is actually a member of the local witch guild. She’s a local leader, and Curtis usually invites her out to show cooperation between their organizations.”

“Huh.” Frank handed the mostly empty bowl back to Matt to finish off. “So, what does she do?”

“Why don’t you go talk to her and find out?” Matt grabbed two bowls when another tray passed by and gave them both to Frank. “This is your religion, your temple, you don’t have to walk around like an outsider.”

Frank frowned, but Matt was already walking away from him. Dick. Well, he could either drink both bowls, which was definitely in the spirit of the holiday, or he could grow a pair.

[bourbonbucky]

you know that to frank the sexiest thing karen could wear would be one of his shirts, because it would show that she wants him and wants to be his

[transdreamsicle]

What if the stars lied? The stories woven between them could be nothing but the deranged whispers of gods never named. It could be that the vast openness of the night sky mocks those who should dare to touch it.

Castiel closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He has trained for this job since infancy, but he can't say if he'll ever be ready. Of all star groups to be assigned, he gets the Winchester cluster. The spirits of ancient hunters from a race of half-giants, their victories and defeats are commemorated so far above the heads of those they've protected.

Worn leather keeps Castiel's hands warm as wind whips through the field and pushes against him. He'll have to come out another time to visit these spirits. Unless he wants to freeze to death, of course. If he can't get the spirits to speak to him he might consider it.

Guardian after guardian has tried for generations before him. Other stars will fall from the sky and take their place on Earth to guide their worshippers. The Winchesters haven't taken form in as long as anyone can remember.

Castiel follows the stars with his eyes. He knows each story and each name, and has studied every piece of art to go along with them.

He knows, though, that it takes more than petty loyalty to bring stars out of the sky.

[bourbonbucky]

Loki’s breath trembles and he berates himself that he can’t stop tears from slipping out of his eyes. Even blindfolded he knows Thor is smiling, he feels them wiped away from his cheeks and hear’s Thor’s lips part to lick them up. His hands are bound or he’d put a stop to this. He would. Probably. He isn’t sure. This is too much for him, to sit astride Thor’s lap, just stroked and petted like some valued thing. 

Thor’s fingers dig into the muscle of his back and he moans at it, tension leaving him under Thor’s ruthless and loving command. “Let go.”

Loki shakes his head. “Just fuck me already.”

Thor laughs through his nose and presses a kiss to Loki’s collarbone. “No. We’re doing this until you understand, Loki. You’re not just a hole for me to sink my cock into.”

More tears slip free of Loki’s eyes but he makes no noise. He can’t see anything so he feels everything, every time Thor breathes, every twitch in Thor’s thighs. Mostly he just feels the heavy weight of Thor’s hands on him. Touching him everywhere, worshiping him like he earned his title as a god in some benevolent way. Like Loki has never hurt him, never betrayed him. 

Thor needs this, obviously, needs to hold Loki and give him soft touches. Loki relaxes and sighs when Thor kisses up the column of his neck. If it’s a matter of Thor’s need, then Loki can take it.

[bourbonbucky]

What if Frank ran an arboretum with other vets and talked to trees like people so Karen is taking a relaxing walk through all of these pretty trees only to see Frank kneeling next to a sapling muttering and cussing like "you stubborn little fuck you're just going to have to deal with being transplanted because we do not have a big enough planter for you so get your shit together what the hell is your problem is it the nitrogen level in the soil?"

and Karen falls a little in love with him right there