Five Acts

[mercyrobot]

+ Post a list of your five favorite acts/kinks to read about. Check out this list if you need some inspiration. At the bottom of your post, add what fandoms/pairings you're interested in.
+ Read other people's lists; the master list of lists is here.
+ Post comment-fic based off of other people's interests.

1. Outsider POV. Not necessarily voyeurism, although it could have that element. Mostly I just like it when some third character ponders/notices stuff about the main pairing, maybe that they're together or maybe that they should be, maybe why they make sense or that they don't.
2. Non-canonical universes. What if xyz had happened this way instead of that way, what if they were librarians, what if time travel, what if the TARDIS or some wizards suddenly showed up. I guess it's kind of a cheat to lump AUs and crossovers in like that together, but I love anything that takes them out of normal canon in whatever way and I'm really not that picky about it.
3. Frottage. Clothes on, clothes off, clothes anywhere in between, dirty-desperate or slow-romantic, doesn't matter as long as it's face to face and grind-y.
4. Competency. Maybe they're a BAMF in a fight, maybe they're great at piano or making pizza. I love it when a character gets to have their mad skills appreciated, especially if said skills are a turn-on for someone else.
5. Friends-to-lovers. That point in a comfortable awesome practically-married friendship where the MFEO finally gets acknowledged.


Fandoms/pairings
Supernatural: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Dean, Castiel/Balthazar (RPF preferably in AUs only or French Mistake-type universes - Jensen/Misha, Jared/Jensen), whatever threesomes. ETA: OH, AND DEAN/JIMMY NOVAK. YEP.
The Walking Dead: Daryl/Glenn
CSI: Nick/Greg
Downton Abbey: Thomas/Branson
Crossovers: Anyone from the above fandoms mix'n'matched with anyone from another. This also applies to Ianto Jones, Simon Tam, and Xander Harris.

Fills!

For me:
Kitchens are a Dean & Cas thing! - SPN Dean/Cas + Sam, outsider POV by dazedrose

What Dreams Are Made Of - SPN/Torchwood crossover (Jack/Ianto + Balthazar, non-canonical universe) by shadownashira

Not Covered by Our Insurance - SPN, Cas/Dean, Terrible Life!verse, frottage by triedunture

New, just like ever before - SPN, Dean/Cas, Friends to lovers by brokentoy

By me: (oh man, I need to write faster! >.>)

Lines on a Faulty Map - SPN Dean/Dean, Dean/Cas (clones...kinda, wet & messy) for triedunture

Blame Canada - SPN (French Mistake), meta!Misha/Dean, hurt/comfort for dazedrose

Sweet Understanding - SPN, high school AU, first time, frottage, Cas/Dean NC-17 (and also a little voyeurism and some implied-ish underage-ish Sam/Dean) for brokentoy

New Lens - The Hour, Lix/Freddie, jewelry & glasses, banter for mollivanders

Comments

[storyfan.livejournal.com]

3, 4 and 5 are right up my street.

I write frottage far more often than I write anything else because I find it easy to set up various scenarios. So much intercourse is written as "slot A in slot B," and I think writers (including me) have a difficult time making such scenes sound fresh.

Downton Abbey. Have got to see that.

Mad skills — like Jeeves speaking French, perhaps?

Kitchens are a Dean & Cas thing!

[dazedrose.livejournal.com]

Sam enjoyed watching Cas cook. Having fallen completely after they de-souled the nuked-up Castiel, Cas was still finding his feet in the human world. He was still a good fighter, an ok shot with most of the winchesters guns, but not very good on the sleeping front ( it was the nightmares caused by having billions of monster souls swirling around ones head). The one thing that they found that Cas excelled at was cooking. Baking to be exact. Cas found that he could make just about anything, especially the sweet desert treats that Dean loved. 

Of course Dean took advantage of Cas's talent. Every time they are able to spend time at Bobby's, or stay long enough in a town after a hunt to warrant a better then their usual motel rooms, Dean would have Cas in the kitchen baking. Cas never complained and would always let Dean help, well until Dean started eating more then actually went into the baked goods.  

Sam can see the signs. Even a blind man could see how Cas and Dean gravitated around each other. It's a pity that blind man never gave either Cas or Dean the memo. They moved in sync with each other, Dean anticipating Cas's need for the sugar, or Cas will hand Dean the spoon from the mixing bowl instead of putting it in the sink. It's beautiful to watch, and Sam is man enough to admit that he loves that his brother is happy, even if said brother wouldn't admit it out loud, especially to the source of his happiness.

As Dean walks around the kitchen table in bobby's kitchen to put the mixing bowl in the sink, Sam knows he is trespassing on a very intimate moment between Dean and Cas. It's in that moment that, as Cas turns to say something to Dean, Dean just happened to be right there. Face to face, lips mere inches away from each other. Sam thought he would see Dean jumping back, cracking some joke "remember we talked about this Cas, personal space", causing Cas to blush, but to look a little sad as he turned away. 

Sam expected it. But sometimes life throws you a curve ball, and makes even the most stubborn men change the way they do things. Sam watches Dean's wall come down, sees him open himself (finally) to what everyone else can see. As Dean lends into Cas, watching as Cas's eyes flitter between his lips and eyes, Sam hopped off the couch to walk out to the porch. He doesn't need to see the kiss that's happening as his back is turned. He knows what is happening there is a long time coming. He is just happy that they finally got their act together. 

What Dreams Are Made Of - SPN/Torchwood crossover (Jack/Ianto + Balthazar, non-canonical universe)

[shadownashira.livejournal.com]

Years ago, when he had still been with Torchwood One in London, Ianto had a dream. It had been a very strange dream.

“Ianto Jones, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he says. “Who is this?” He feels like he’s having a phone conversation, but he’s fairly sure he went to sleep the previous night and that this is a dream because he can’t see anything except a grey emptiness around him.

“Excellent! Human dreams are so hard to navigate; I was a little worried that I’d gotten the wrong one,” the voice muses. “Oh, by the way, I’m Balthazar.”

“And what are you doing in my dream?” he asks, wondering what it reveals about his psyche that he’s subconsciously named one of the voices in his head Balthazar.

“That’s a very long story which I’ll have to give a short version of. Time passes differently down here, my absence will be noticed if I stay too long.”

“Absence from where?”

“Heaven, of course! Didn’t I mention it? I’m an angel.” The statement is made flippantly, with no concern as to how ridiculous it sounds. Ianto wonders if perhaps the stress of working at Torchwood has addled his mind.

“Anyway, I’m here because I’m looking for a vessel to inhabit. A close friend of mine has been treading some dangerous waters recently. Never thought he had it in him, but I really think he’s going to shake things up and make some major changes up there.”

“Let me guess, I’m the vessel,” Ianto says dryly, deciding to play along.

“I knew I picked the smart one! I’ve got two suitable bloodlines to choose from, but I actually prefer the Welsh accent to the French one. Much sexier. Could have asked your sister, of course, but I would rather have a male vessel. Just a personal preference. So what do you say, Ianto?”

“Let me get this clear. You, an angel, need me as a vessel so that you can, I don’t know, run away from Heaven?”

“It sounds terrible when you put it like that, but in essence, yes. There’re also the benefits of being capable of living forever, of being able to fly, and having access to an unlimited amount of knowledge. You like knowledge, don’t you? Let me reassure you that I’m very considerate; your soul will still be intact afterwards and you can stay and share control with me until you get bored, at which point I’ll send you on to Heaven. How about it?”

This would be a very amusing story to tell Lisa, Ianto decides. “I’m sorry, but I must decline. I very much prefer to remain alone in my own head.”

The voice sighs theatrically. “Of course, I didn’t really think you would consent right away. I just thought I’d lay everything out on the table first.”

In the distance, Ianto sees a pinprick of light appear in the greyness.

“I don’t really expect things to come to a head in Heaven for quite a while yet, so that gives me time to make some preparations and for you to change your mind. When you’re ready, just give me a shout. I’ll be listening.”

There’s a blaze of light which fills up the emptiness, accompanied by the sound of wing beats, and that is when Ianto wakes up.

Now, years later in Thames House, Ianto lies dying in Jack’s arms, feeling the virus work its way through his body and knowing that this is the end.

Above him, Jack is asking him not to leave, voice filled with despair. Ianto wants to tell him that he doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay, stay with Jack and spend the rest of his life with him, no matter how insignificant it may be in the long run for the immortal. He wants to tell Jack again and again that he loves him and he always will.

But he’s too tired to keep his eyes open any longer.

Distantly, he recalls that he never did share the dream with Lisa. He doesn’t know why he didn’t, and he also doesn’t know why he thinks of it now in his final moments.

He wonders, very suddenly, if anything will happen if he says yes.

What would it matter if he tries it now? If he’s just being foolish, no one will ever know. He’ll take it to the grave with him, literally.

If he’s not…

Ianto gathers the last of his willpower.

‘Balthazar? I consent to be your vessel.’

Wing beats and light fill his senses.

1/3 Not Covered by Our Insurance - SPN, Cas/Dean, Terrible Life!verse, frottage

[triedunture.livejournal.com]

Dean leaned back in his chair and studied the man across the boardroom table. Cas Novak sat unmoving in his rumpled suit, tie askew, hair a mess. Between them, an untouched platter of fresh fruit and mini brie and turkey roll-ups. Dean tapped the cap of his Mont Blanc on the header of the contract set before him.

"The terms are fair," he ventured.

"From your point of view, yes, but I must refuse them. They are not in my client's best interests." Cas spoke quietly in a voice rough like a smoker's, and he seemed to maintain an unhealthy amount of eye contact. This guy was something else. No idle chatter about golf scores or weather with this one, oh no. Dean was beginning to think they'd never close this deal.

Dean rubbed a hand across his tired face. "Look, we've been running in circles over these clauses all morning. Want to take a breather, clear our heads?" It was a tactic he'd used to great effect many times: get personal, get under the skin, then use that as leverage.

Cas, though. He just tilted his head and frowned. "My head is fine. But perhaps you would benefit; you do not seem to understand me clearly."

What was this guy, just a huge passive-aggressive dick? Or maybe he had one of those mental things, where you don't get what's inappropriate. Like that one guy on Boston Legal. Dean was in the process of deciding when Cas rose from the plush chair and turned his laser blue gaze out the plate glass window.

"The weather is fair. Perhaps we should walk along the pier," he suggested.

"Uh." This was not what Dean had been expecting. Drinks were the usual midday respite from negotiations, not traipsing along the waterfront in his three-piece suit. But shit, if his guest wanted to go for a walk, they'd go for a fucking walk."Sure. Absolutely."

Dean left instructions with his PA, clipped his Blackberry to his belt, found his sunglasses in his desk, and rode the elevator down with Cas. It was the first time in weeks he'd left the building during work hours. The sun was blinding, leaving him squinting away dark spots for long moments as they walked. In contrast, Cas seemed content to just squint.

As they walked along the pavement leading up to the riverfront, giving the flocks of gulls pecking at trash a wide berth, Dean watched Cas from the corner of his eye. No wedding ring, he'd already noticed. Nice watch, nothing fancy though. And that trench was no Burberry. Why'd they send this mook to deal with him?

"So, Cas," he cleared his throat, "how long have you been working in--?"

"Let's not discuss our professions," Cas interrupted. "Please."

"Um. Okay. What--?"

"You have a sister, correct?" Cas asked.

"Yeah. Jo. She's in school right now, doing engineering of all things." Dean smiled to himself, thinking of his little stick of a kid sister. She better be giving those boys hell at Stanford, he thought. "You?"

"I have many brothers and sisters. I come from a large family."

"Catholic, huh?" Dean didn't often touch on religion (or politics) when doing business, but this guy seemed eager to go off script.

"Very." Cas gifted him with a small smirk. They strolled along the gangway, where Cas paused to lean his forearms against the rail and look out over the sailboats and kayaks moving through the bay. "Do you enjoy this place, Dean?"

Dean blinked at the reflection coming off the water and listened to the shrill calls of the seagulls and kids laughing. "To be honest, I don't get out here much. I try to get a few miles in on the treadmill every morning, but--"

"Try closing your eyes," Cas said.

Dean stood there, staring stupidly from behind his Ray Bans. "What? Why?"

"Please, just try." Cas seemed so insistent, like this was really important. So Dean slipped the sunglasses into his breast pocket and closed his eyes with a little sigh, hands clutching the sun-warm rail.

The sounds faded. The pounding sunlight on the backs of his eyelids seemed to lessen, like a cloud was passing overhead. The warm weight of Cas's hand brushed the back of his own, and when he spoke, Cas sounded like the rumble of an oncoming thunderstorm.

New, just like ever before - SPN, Dean/Cas, Friends to lovers [1/?]]

[brokentoy.livejournal.com]

They have been friends forever, that is the simple truth. Castiel can't really remember a time when Dean wasn't in the picture, cocky and self-assured where Castiel was quiet and unassuming.
He still asks himself what it is that Dean sees in him, but after fifteen years of being friends, two of which sharing the same apartment off-campus and a knowledge of each other that is bordering on creepy, Castiel has given up on ever finding out.

People look at them and think they're strange, living so in sync with each other and being completely different in all the things that (supposedly) matter. What they don't know, is that behind Dean's gruff exterior hides the heart of a champion, someone that would sacrifice himself for the ones he loves the most, and that under his perceived arrogance lies a sense of insecurity, of never being enough.

Cas knows this, knows Dean for what he is, and even if Dean can be unnerving and superficial Cas finds himself revolving around his best friend like it's his very nature.

They keep doing the same things as they did as kids, staying up late playing video games, watching movies well into the night. They still do the book&music nights, and Castiel still drapes around himself his favorite blanket as he lies over the couch reading while Dean listens to his favorite records, slouching on the huge chair he inherited from his dad.

When it first happens, it's not a big deal. Dean is listening to some Zeppelin, completely relaxed over the battered sofa, and Castiel doesn't have it in his heart to ask him to move. What he does, instead, is murmur a soft “Scoot over” as he climbs beside him, stretching his body over the length of the couch, feet dangling on one side as he rests his head nonchalantly over Dean's tight.

If Dean is surprised by it he doesn't say anything, and the night passes in companionable silence.

From then on things start to change. Dean will touch him more, a squeeze on the arm when they cross each other's path in the living room, a pat on the back before he goes to class in the morning. Sometimes his touch lingers, and Castiel feels his skin tingling as he tries to make sense of it.

They'd always been pretty physical, hugging more than necessary and always stepping into each other's personal bubbles, but there's something different in the air now, a certain intent Castiel can't fully understand.