#cavity-inducing fluff

[keldae]

Fictober 2021 -- Day Three

Spies were typically not the types of people to be family oriented. Indeed, few spies ever had families, or would admit to having them.

Even fewer spies ever lived to reach normal retirement age. The few who made it to being senior citizens were either more clever than they had a right to be, or luckier than the entire rest of the galaxy.

Reanden had been the exception to both rules for almost his entire career and he knew it. It was something he didn't take for granted, as he paced through the waiting room. He'd waited for this, dreamed of it for years -- yet half of him had expected this day to never become reality.

The door hissed open, and Reanden spun around to see his youngest son stepping into the room. "How did it go?" he asked, hurrying over to the former Sith. Sorand looked fatigued, but he was smiling, and holding a bundle of blankets in his arms…

"Perfectly, Grandpa." Sorand proudly grinned and carefully held out his precious burden. "I’d like to introduce you to Cuyan."

His heart in his throat, Reanden gingerly accepted the bundle, nudging the blankets aside until he could see his new grandson's face, all scrunched up in sleep. "Hi, squirt," the old spy breathed out as the newborn squirmed, blinking away the sudden blurriness in his vision. Grandpa… a title he'd never thought he'd have, and yet one that was now every bit as dear to him as "Dad" was.

He tore his gaze away from little Cuyan to smile at his proudly beaming son. "He's beautiful. He looks so much like you."

Sorand smiled, although the gesture was touched with old sadness. "I wish Mum could have seen this," he quietly said. "She would have loved him."

"She would have," Reanden agreed. "Hells, by this point she would have already stolen him and refused to give him back." He smiled as Sorand laughed, then looked back down as Cuyan squirmed again, one little fist flexing as it escaped the blankets. "She would be so proud… so it falls to me to be proud on her behalf." He fondly smiled down at the baby, tracing the perfectly formed little nose with his fingertip. "Which, Force knows I'm proud enough for both of us."

That got another smile from Sorand, this one a little wobbly. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered, leaning in to gently tuck Cuyan's wayward hand back into the wrappings. "Is… is being terrified normal?"

Reanden chuckled, carefully adjusting his hold on his grandson. "Oh, you have no idea, kiddo. But I have every confidence that you're going to do just fine with him. And you know I'll be here to help. Always."

[chatonne-rousse]

La Vie en Rose

Written for @adrinetteapril, ostensibly for Day 30: Stay, but also including the prompts best friends, anime, family, dreams, sunrise, you're beautiful, sunset, future kids, napping, and cuddling.

Read it on Ao3 here.

This is very obviously a love song dedicated to one of my favorite places in the world and my beloved OTP, who deserve nothing less than a future full of love and laughter and hope.

For @jennagrinsoverml, the only other person I know who loves these two as much as I do, and whom I love dearly.

Accompanying artwork by @oriollie, whom I also love dearly!

Enjoy! 🐨

[hyperdoctor11writes]

So many more feelings in this than I intended. Like, so many. This can be considered cavity-inducing fluff if I’m being honest. Which is something I usually don’t write, but here we are!

882 words

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~~~

Mick hated going to the SHU, but it was better than being around punk-ass kids who thought they were tough and COs who threw their weight around to show they were in charge. While had may have hated the trip to the SHU, he hated the trip back to his cell in Gen Pop even more. He had gotten used to the solitude and didn’t want to have to put up with the idiots that had put him there in the first place.

“Open thirty-two!” The guard escorting him yelled. Mick’s cell opened, and he was pushed forward into it. “Close thirty-two!”

Mick’s cell door closed, and he was able to take in everything that had changed while he was away and everything that was the same. The kid that had been his cellie -- the one who had gotten him thrown in the SHU in the first place -- wasn’t there. He had the cell to himself once more. The guards hated putting anyone in with him, told him he was too dangerous to have a cellie, let alone be released back into the world.

Mick climbed onto the top bunk and fell back onto the hard mattress. As he shut his eyes, there was a loud noise coming from outside his cell. He recognized it as yard time -- something he hadn’t missing having with other people.

Getting off the bed and out of his cell, he followed the line keeping his head down as they made their way to the yard. He noticed a few new faces as his green eyes found the newest, smallest, and skinniest kid in the yard. Mick saw the kid’s mouth moving but couldn’t hear any of what he was saying over the loud chatter of everyone else.

Something about the kid, how he held himself, and how he looked made Mick want to protect him. Nobody who looked like that had it easy in life. He could see a shiner covering the kid’s left eye that looked faded -- something he had to have gotten outside the prison walls, Mick thought.

Between the time it took Mick to blink away the dirt in his eyes, the skinny kid was surrounded by several of the older and bigger inmates. Mick told himself to ignore it -- the fight wasn’t his problem. The kid wasn’t his problem. All he had to do was keep his head down, and he’d be released soon.

But Mick couldn’t keep his nose out of the kid’s business when he saw the glint of a shiv in Marcus’ hands. Almost as if on instinct, Mick raced over to the fight and ripped the shiv away from the kid’s general area and threw it away from them.

Mick pushed the group away from the kid. Without the group holding the kid up, he fell to the hard, dirt ground from the pumbling he had received. Anger flared up inside of Mick. He hated bullies. Mick took on the group of five kids using brute force. After tossing three of them away with ease, the other two decided to take off, knowing it wasn’t worth being caught in a fight with Mick Rory.

“I had it,” the kid said with a sharp tone.

Mick looked at the kid as he stood up, wiping at the blood from his split lip. The cold look in his blue eyes was meant to show Mick he was tough. All Mick saw was a kid trying to punch above his weight.

“I noticed,” Mick said gruffly. Mick started to walk away when the kid called out.

“Hey!” The kid yelled, running to catch up with Mick. “I’m Leonard Snart.”

“Mick Rory,” Mick said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, wishing he had a lighter to play with.

“Thanks for your help,” the kid said almost begrudgingly. “If you hadn’t had done anything-”

“You’d be dead,” Mick said plainly. He glanced down at the smaller kid. “I don’t like bullies.”

Leonard made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. “Neither do I.” Leonard noticed that everyone was avoiding Mick and himself. “What’s with everybody? Too scared of you?”

“I like fire, and I don’t hesitate to fight someone,” Mick said, glancing around at the other teenagers who regarded him with hesitation. “They all think I’m just a brute without a brain. They don’t trust me.”

Leonard regarded Mick, looking him over with a careful eye. “You can’t be all that bad. You seem to be smart than you look.”

Mick snorted. “Sure, kid. Keep thinking that.”

Silence fell between them as Leonard continued to follow Mick for the rest of the hour. Leonard seemed to be in deep thoughts despite his eyes canvassing the entire yard. Mick couldn’t understand why the scrawny kid was still following him when no one else wanted to be around him. But there Leonard was. A silent presence for the entire hour that comforted Mick -- something he thought would annoy him more than Leonard actually did.

When yard time ended, a CO came up to Mick and Leonard with a sneer.

“Looks like you’ve already met your new cellie, Rory,” the man said with a slight snarl to his voice. “Hopefully, this one sticks.”

Hopefully, Mick thought silently to himself.

[shootingstarcas]

A Dean and Cas AU, ~900 words

From this post, “Your cat keeps getting into my house and I don't even know how would you care to explain,” with a few modifications

Crossposted at AO3

Cas shuffles the puppy under his arm, reaches forward to knock on the door. “Sam? It’s me, Castiel.”

He hears footsteps, the door swings op, and oh- that is definitely not Sam Winchester.

“Hey, he’s not home right-” The guy stops, hand on the doorframe. He swallows. “Oh. Um. Hi. I’m Dean. Sam’s brother.”

He should be embarrassed by his staring, but then, Dean’s staring too. Finally he takes Cas’s hand, his own warm and a little dry.

“He’s just, uh, he’s out of town,” Dean says, and right, Cas was looking for Sam. Wasn’t he? “I’m house-sitting. And dog-sitting.”

Right. Dog. Cas remembers just in time the squirming puppy under his arm. “You’re not doing a very good job of it,” he says, clearing his throat.

Dean’s hand slips off the doorframe, and he stumbles forward. “Wait, is that Bones?”

“I believe so.” Cas holds the puppy out with both hands. It’s a soft, golden thing, with the cutest pink tongue slipping out. He’d been rather surprised this morning to find it on his living room floor.

“How did he get out?” Dean asks. He reaches forward and takes the puppy, cradling it against his chest.

“I have no idea,” Cas says, “but it’s happened twice this week.”

“Do you want to- that is, do you want to come in?”

Though Cas has been living beside Sam for a year now, though they’ve gone for drinks together a few times, he’s never been inside the apartment. “Yeah, please. We should probably solve the mystery of the missing puppy.”

Dean snorts, opens the door wider to let Castiel inside. “So you, uh, you’re my brother’s neighbor? I think he’s mentioned you.”

“Yes, well, he’s certainly mentioned you.”

Dean’s step falters, but he covers it well. “Yeah? What’s he say?”

They walk into the living room, where Dean unceremoniously drops the puppy on a couch. Cas takes a moment to absorb his surroundings, the bookshelves and the family photos. He recognizes Dean in one of them, beside Sam and a sleek black car.

“He says you’re hardworking,” says Cas, crossing to look more closely. “He says you like Star Wars. It, ah, came up once.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“I have a limited-edition model of the Millenium Falcon in my apartment,” he says, and follows it with, “Is that a 1967 Chevy Impala?”

There’s a crash from behind him, as if Dean tripped over something. When Castiel turns, he realizes that something was the dog.

“Friggin’ mutt,” Dean grumbles. “I don’t know why Sam likes the thing. Uh, yeah, yeah. That’s my car.”

“She’s gorgeous,” Cas says. You’re even more so, he thinks.

Dean comes up behind him. “Wait, so you know cars, you like Star Wars, and you have a limited-freaking-edition model of the- hang on, can I see it?”

“Sure,” Cas shrugs, trying not to imagine Dean in his apartment Dean in his bedroom. “But first, the puppy.”

“Right, right. I have no idea how- damn.” Dean stops, spins in a circle. “Do you, by any chance, live on that side of Sammy?” He points to the left wall.

“Yes,” Cas says. “Is that relevant?”

“Well,” Dean says, with a lopsided expression, “I know how he got into your apartment. That’s some Mission Impossible crap, right there.”

“What?” Cas says. He follows Dean’s gaze, to the bottom of the wall, where a gray vent cover sits beside an open vent. “Oh. Oh.” It’s just big enough for a very small puppy to fit through.

Dean crosses the room, drops to his knees. Cas follows. “Yup,” Dean says. “This goes straight through to your place.”

“The screws on the cover came loose,” Cas says. “I was going to redo them this weekend.”

“And I was doing maintenance on Sammy’s side. Took the cover off last Saturday, forgot to put it back.”

Cas puts a hand on the vent cover. So this is it. Mystery solved. “Maintenance? Are you a mechanic?”

Dean looks at him sideways. Licks his lips. Cas tries and fails not to drop his gaze. “Nah, not really. I’m a firefighter. But I, y’know, work on the fire engine. I tinker.”

“Good with your hands, then,” Cas says, before his brain catches up with his mouth.

They are really close to each other, here on the floor. Cas can feel Dean’s body heat through the thin space between them. Dean is barefoot in blue jeans and a Rush t-shirt. Cas has seven Rush albums in his apartment.

He decides he wants to kiss Dean. Even more so when Dean says, “Can I see your Millenium Falcon now?”

“Maybe later,” Cas says.

And that’s how he ends up making out with his neighbor’s brother on the floor of the apartment. The puppy goes through the vent again, looking pretty damn smug about it as he does, but they’re too distracted to notice.