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(Group Message Sam and Dean Winchester)

C: Dean. Sam. We must help the mighty Thorin Oakenshield reclaim his stolen homeland of Erebor.

D: What the hell are you talking about?

S: I meant to tell you this earlier.

S: I took him to go see the Hobbit.

D: Why would you do that?! You know he gets weird ass ideas.

C: Dean, we must go help him. He could die without us.

D: Why should I give a rat's ass?

C: He is a majestic ruler, Dean. His majesticness must be saved for future generations.

D: His what?

C: His majescticness.

D: What the hell?

S: Thorin was pretty majestic. I have to admit that.

C: Then you understand, Sam! We have to go help the Dwarves reclaim Erebor!

S: You know what, Cas, you're right. You and Dean should get ready and be on your way tonight.

D: Sam, what are you doing?

S: I'll even go find you a bow and arrow. You can match wits with Kíli.

D: Sam, what the hell are you doing?

S: I'll pack your provisions.

D: Sam, stop it.

S: I'll even call Gandalf for you.

C: Dean, Sam is going to help us project King Thorin's majesty

S: Damn right I will.

D: I hate you both.
Even Cas loves Thorin's majesticness.

I am so out of practive on writing these damn things.

Give me a few hours, and I'll go back to the way I used to write them.

Being without practice fucking SUCKS.
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It was freezing. The heater was broken and there was a horrible draft. They were in the dead of winter and a hail storm was raging outside, the tiny balls of ice beating at the window violently. It was surprising that the glass didn't shatter altogether.
Jim sat on the couch with Sebastian's hoodie and a blanket wrapped around his small figure. He was tempted to go downstairs and yell at someone about it, but he didn't want to move from his warm cocoon he created around himself. It was too cold to even think about moving. He didn't dare let his fuzzy-sock-covered feet touch the icy ground.
He silently urged Sebastian to come back to their flat faster. He was out on a job Jim gave him earlier, no doubt out there in the freezing mess that people called the weather. Jim smiled slightly at the thought. That Sebastian would sit out there in the swirling flurry of ice, unseen and waiting for the perfect time to shoot, all for him.
It was at that time that Sebastian decided to walk into the flat. He nearly took off his jacket but decided against it, noticing that it was practically the same temperature inside as it was out there. He looked at Jim, curled up on the couch and wearing a devious smile. Sebastian plopped himself down next to him after brushing bits of ice off of him. Jim gave him a sideways glance but otherwise didn't move. "What are you thinking about?" Sebastian asked as he grabbed the bundle of blankets, Jim and warmth and pulled said bundle into his lap.
Jim shivered against the cold body he was pulled up to. "You." he answered simply and reached up to kiss his pet briefly. Sebastian kissed back eagerly, and when they broke apart Sebastian nuzzled his nose into Jim's warm neck, causing him to shiver again. "You're affectionate today, pet." Jim commented, smirking.
"It's cause you're so fucking warm." He said into Jim's neck, making the statement come out muffled.
Jim hummed in acknowledgement. He picked apart the cocoon of blankets to include Sebastian. He accepted the blanket gratefully and wrapped a new blanket-cocoon around the two of them. He couldn't help but notice Jim wearing his hoodie but didn't comment on it. He enclosed Jim with long cold arms in a tight embrace, stealing as much of Jim's warmth as possible. They stayed in that position for a while, each trying to ignore the cold outside world and enjoy each other's body heat. Somehow they both ended up lying on the couch, Sebastian having to curl up around Jim so as not to have his feet dangling over the arm rest on the opposite side. Jim lay on Sebastian, with his head tucked under his sniper's chin. In that position they fell asleep in each other's arms, both cherishing the body heat shared between him. But before Jim fell asleep completely he silently celebrated the fact that he didn't go downstairs kicking and screaming about the heater. After all, he had his own personal heater right here.
I actually wrote this about a week ago in a notebook my friend gave me, I just didn't bother to type it up yet. I have a couple more I need to type up too actually. I'll do that tomorrow. For now, I'll go to bed. :3
I hope you like it~! This is my first Mormor fanfiction, actually, so any constructive criticism is very appreciated!
Sadly, I don't own Sebastian Moran or Jim Moriarty. :I
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D: Sam, I've got some bad news.

S: You didn't break Bobby's new table, did you?

D: No…not yet.

S: Did you break my new laptop?

D: That's not the bad news.

S: Good.

D: But I did break it.

S: You asshole! I fucking told you not to go near my damn laptop, and the first damn thing you do is fucking break it!


S: Sorry, sorry. What happened?

D: I'm pregnant.

S: You're what?!

D: Pregnant.

S: You and Cas didn't use protection?! I fucking told you to! I fucking told you, and now you're gonna-I can't believe this, now I have to deal with your fucking mood swings and I have to go buy your sorry ass a shitton of pickles, and I have to deal with you and then I have to deal with Castiel and then your kid and DAMMIT DEAN!

S: Dean.

D: Yes, Sam?

S: You're not a girl.

D: No I'm not.

S: So you can't get pregnant.

D: No I can't.

S: So I'm an idiot.

D: And he finally catches on.
Sorry I haven't posted anything in a while. Microsoft fucked up on me, my grandfather's about to have a surgery, my cousins are down from North Carolina, I've been forced to swim, and my laptop has been hidden from me. T.T

So, yeah. Anyway. I saw an FML where this girl told her dad she had gotten her boyfriend pregnant and her dad freaked out and broke all her shit, and then he realized what she said.

Dean would totally do this to Sam, and Sam would totally bitch him out. And then realize that it's impossible for Dean to get pregnant.
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That wasn’t supposed to happen. It should have been a not friendly but still peaceful business meeting, not an exchange of potentially lethal shots. But when you worked for James Moriarty you could never be sure of what was waiting ahead for you. For that reason, and for many others he had learnt during the years spent at the madman’s side, Sebastian Moran was always ready. For what, he didn’t know, but still prepared pretty much for everything. And they had to thank his quick reflexes if the people with a bullet in the skull were some of their client’s men and not them.

The sniper had felt the atmosphere of the small Finnish cottage getting colder and colder and he calmly had crossed his arms, his right hand casually resting on the gun hidden in his jacket and the left tapping on the one he had secured on his hip. He wasn’t exactly listening to the discussion going on between the Russian man and his employer, he was too busy keeping an eye on the armed men who were standing behind their clients. He had already spotted their weapons, three guns on each bodyguard and the one on the left had also a knife in his boot. He and Moriarty were facing the door, but there was a window behind their backs, large enough to become an emergency exit once broken the glass.

A sudden stream of curses in Russian had forced him to move his attention back to his boss’s speaker, whose face was now livid and awfully tense. He was grinding his teeth in rage, but Jim had showed no worry at all, had spoken few amused words in the Slavic language and chuckled. The client hadn’t seemed to have appreciated whatever he had said because he had jumped on his feet and shouted orders. His jackals had immediately reached for their guns, but before they could draw them Moran had already shot two of them and had grabbed Moriarty by the waist.

“Moran, what are you…?!” the consulting criminal had started to protest, but he had interrupted him ignoring the deadly glare he had just received.

“Sorry, boss, but it’s time to leave the party” he had stated shooting at the window and crashing the glass. His opponents were quickly recovering from their shock, they needed to get out before the shooting started. He had lifted himself through the opening and had dragged the shorter man with him, ignoring the splinters that scratched his skin through his trousers. “Forgive me my bad manners, but we are in a rush. I’ll make it up to you later.”

“You moron! If you don’t let me go immediately be sure that I’ll skin you alive as soon as we get home!” Jim had growled, clearly irate, struggling in the other’s strong grip. “I’m not kidding! Let me go, Moran!”

Pretending not to have heard the threat, Sebastian had jumped on the frozen ground, running quickly behind a woodpile, and, once there, he had unceremoniously threw his employer in a snowdrift. And there he was, knelt beside the shorter man, carefully leaning out, gun in hand. Behind them there was only the lake shore, only two metres apart. That meant no alternative ways of escape, but at least their enemies couldn’t surround them either. The bodyguards had run out after them through the cottage door, followed closely by their boss, who was once again shouting in Russian. The ex-soldier didn’t know the language, but there were few expressions, which could turn out to be essential in his job, that he had forced himself to pick up in many idioms. One of them was “kill them” and it was exactly what had just come out from their now former client. He didn’t wait another second and shot one of the men right in the chest. The other collapsed in the snow, staining its white with his blood.

A spray of gunfire followed his shot, forcing him to take shelter behind the woodpile. He cursed heavily under his breath. There were more men than the five who had been in the room with them. It wasn’t going to be easy. He glanced at Jim who was still wearing his frown but hadn’t shown any intention of scolding him again. The shorter man’s suit was completely damped and he was shivering, even if he was trying not to show it. The sniper bit his lower lip, growling lowly and cursing the horrible choice of place for the meeting. Neutral ground or whatever, he didn’t care. The fact was that temperature was several degrees below zero and his own fingers were starting to become numb. He needed to get them somewhere warmer soon or they both would risk hypothermia in addiction to a bullet hole.

“Hold on, boss” he said quietly, biting his lips. “I’ll get us out quickly”. He handed Jim his other gun. “Take it. And don’t move. I’ll take care of those bastards.”

Moriarty raised a questioning eyebrow as he took the weapon, but Moran once again ignored it and brushed past him heading towards the other end of the pile. The bullets were still being fired, but he was sure that it was only a diversionary. There were eight armed men on them, but he could count only four guns shooting. They were surely covering the other four approaching their shelter. He needed to be quick if he didn’t want to find himself in a quite inconvenient position. He crawled in the snow, ignoring the biting cold, and reached his destination. Once there he took a deep breath, flexing his fingers. Catching his opponents off guard was his only chance to end the whole thing quickly. He had to succeed in shooting them all before they got him. Otherwise…He would have to deal with serious injures too.

Sebastian tightened his grip on his weapon and stood, immediately setting his sight on the nearest man, who had almost reached the woodpile, instantly shooting him dead. The others immediately turned towards him, but he didn’t let them the time to take aim and fired again, shot after shot, hitting his target each time. A bullet grazed his arm, gaining a gasp of pain from his lips, but he forced himself to ignore the blood soaking his shirt and jacket and drew the gun towards the last jackal, only to find out that the man had already his weapon on him and was smirking triumphantly. The sniper swore, stiffening in his spot. His mind was racing. The bastard was about to shot him. He would have no time to dodge it and, even if he had fired in turn, he would have been hit. His finger tightened on the trigger. One thing was sure. He wasn’t going down alone.

However, before he could do anything, the bodyguard collapsed, crimson liquid flooding out from his forehead. The ex-soldier turned and his surprised eyes met the figure of his employer standing, gun still drawn in his target’s direction. A feral smirk blossomed on his face as he started to walk towards him. Jim never wanted to dirty his hands, but he knew well that the consulting criminal still had a very good aim when he needed it. He always had to put at use all his skills to dodge the objects that the shorter man threw at him when he was in a foul mood. And at times the paper holder or the lamp hit him anyway.

“Nice shot, boss” he complimented going to stand by his side, rubbing his wrist on his wound. “You have been going to the shooting range again, haven’t you?”

“Don’t try to flatter me. I’m still going to punish you for ruining my clothes and forcing me to use this stupid thing”. Moriarty let his weapon fall on the ground. “My suit costs more than your favourite riffle, you idiot. I’m going to use your payment to buy a new one”. He gave his sniper another dirty look. “And don’t even dare to think that I’ve been practicing just because you suggest me to do it. I was bored.”

Moran rolled his eyes with an amused grin and opened his mouth to retort, but he caught a sudden movement with the corner of his eye before he could say anything. His training kicked in immediately and he pushed the consulting criminal aside, out of the line of fire. The bullet penetrated his flesh this time, sticking into his right shoulder. He cried out in pain and fury, falling in the snow. His sight blurred for a moment, but he quickly blinked to clear it. There was no time for weaknesses. He grabbed the gun that Jim had abandoned with his left hand and shoot, hitting their former client in the chest and successfully getting rid of him. A few time he had been so glad to be ambidextrous.

As soon as he saw the Russian falling, he let his arm relaxed and groaned, closing his eyes. Luckily no bone had been hit, but it hurt like hell anyway. He threw the weapon away and pressed a handful of snow on the wound to stop the bleeding. The last thing he needed now was to faint for blood loss. He would have to extract the bullet and wrap the wound as soon as they would be somewhere comfortable, but for now the snow could do. There was a small team waiting for they call only few kilometres apart.

He forced himself in a seated position and looked around, just in time to spot Jim trudging out of the lake, now completely drenched. In the rush of getting him out of the fire line he had inadvertently pushed the madman in the freezing waters. He was going to pay dearly for his carelessness. His eyes widened in horror and he stood up immediately, rushing towards him and taking off his jacket in the process, not without difficulties and ignoring the fact that he was now wearing only a blood-stained shirt. His attention was all focused on Moriarty, who was now shaking uncontrollably, arms wrapped around himself. The ex-soldier put the piece of clothing on the other’s shoulders and dared to hook his good arm around them, pulling his employer close to him. Body heat was the first handy way to fight hypothermia. The long nights in the desert during the months at war had taught him and his comrades that.

“Boss, you have better to call the others” he suggested, feeling the other snuggling even more in his chest. Under different circumstances he would have laughed at the scene, but not now. At least, he had better not if he wanted to stay alive. “It’s a bit too cold for my tastes.”

“Y-You…weren’t the one w-who ended up in…in a f-fucking frozen…lake!” Jim stuttered in an angry tone. He usually never swore, but the situation was pulling him to his limits. He was used to stand behind the safe line, watching the others working, fighting and dying from a comfortable spot. Now he was completely, literally frozen and even thinking was getting harder. The heat of the ex-soldier’s body was helping, but wasn’t enough. The taller man’s skin was cold as well. They needed help and soon. He sneezed. “Moran…you…you useless low being! C-Call them. My phone…is dead! Thanks to the bloody lake!”

Sebastian nodded, not daring to answer, and removed his arm from his employer to grab his phone, quickly sending a text before putting it back around the shorter man’s shoulder. The consulting criminal sneezed again, teeth chattering, and they both knew that the next day he would be ill, for the first time in years. The ex-soldier lifted his eyes. Fantastic. He would have to deal with a sick Moriarty other than with a gunshot wound.

Five minutes later the team was there, bringing everything they needed and ready to assist them. Jim was wrapped in a thermal blanket and brought on the snowmobile, while one of the men helped the sniper to take care of his wound, extracting the bullet for him and wrapping the injured flesh. Once they were done, Moran nodded a silent “thank you” to his subordinate and joined the consulting criminal on the vehicle. The engine was immediately started and the snowmobile got away the cottage behind, leaving the clean team the task to erase every trace of the mess. The Moriarty leant into him, seeking even more warmth, and he was glad to comply, twisting his body so that his boss could almost rest in his lap. None of them speak a word, each lost in his own thoughts, while outside the snow started to fall.


Sebastian snorted exasperated as a pillow hit him right in the face, making him drop the book he had been trying to read for an hour by now. He lifted his eyes to meet pissed dark ones. His boss was sat on the other side of the leather coach, wrapped in two blankets and surrounded by used tissues. An empty cup was rested on the coffee table in front of him, together with a half-eaten chocolate cookie.

It had been almost a week since the Finnish fiasco. Jim had become unbearable as soon as they had crossed the threshold of the consulting criminal’s flat. Moran had been forced to move in to be able to play at his best the role of the nurse. He didn’t mind that part, after all he had being spending more time there than in his own apartment in the last year and half, nights included, both for work and for his own pleasure. The guest room was pretty much his own by now and he even kept some spare clothes in the wardrobe too. He wasn’t bothered even by his many, at times annoying tasks. Taking care of the madman was a part of his job and he had already got used to having to do all the domestic chores, as well as to fighting with his employer to get him to eat and sleep. So adding to them a new struggle to make him take his meds didn’t really matter to him. Actually, he had to admit, not aloud obviously, that this sick version of Moriarty was almost cute in some moments. The man spent most of his time huddled up in his blankets, cheeks lightly blushed because of the fever and looking almost harmless, which was a first. Usually he managed to look dangerous even in the silliest situation, but apparently not when he was curled up like a big cat on the sofa, sulking, a steaming mug of tea in his hands. It almost made him smile.

What really disturbed his was his employer’s attitude towards him. The consulting criminal was always irritable, possibly even more than his usual self, and, when he didn’t give him the silent treatment, he spent his time whining, complaining and insulting him. Everything that Sebastian did was turned into a pretext to start a fight or to cover him with sarcastic comments and offensive remarks. He knew that it was a payback for what had happened at the cottage, but the sniper couldn’t help thinking that he was being wronged. It wasn’t his fault if their late client had decided to get rid of them because he didn’t want to pay the due price, nor it was the fact that Moriarty couldn’t have a conversation without calling his speaker every name under the sun. He hadn’t pushed him in the freezing waters on purpose. He had prevented him from being shot, and he was rather inclined also to remind that he had taken the bloody bullet in his place as well. So nobody could blame him if he repaid the shorter man with a similar harsh treatment when the other hit on his nerves. He had more than once refused to satisfy his employer’s whims, ignoring his protests and leaving the flat without permission. He had also started to smoke inside, knowing well how much the other hated it. Other times he had tried to talk Jim out of that childish behaviour, but in vain. Nothing he had done or said had been enough to stop their war.

“What was that for?” the ex-soldier asked, grabbing the pillow and throwing it back, right in his speaker’s face.

Moriarty let out an annoyed groan at that, but pushed the soft object on the floor. He couldn’t start that kind of battle, he couldn’t compete with Moran’s aim. “You pushed me in a bloody frozen lake, that’s what it was for” he stated harshly instead.

“Again? Come on, boss, drop it. This thing is starting to get awfully annoying. For the both of us” Sebastian answered, trying to keep his temper in check. “Besides, I’d like to remind you that I was trying to save your fucking life.”

“I’m more tempted to think that you were trying to end it” the consulting criminal accused, his voice getting even colder. “Just let me get better, Moran, and I swear that you’ll never forget your punishment”. His eyes shone dangerously. “If you were at least able to do your job properly, I wouldn’t be confined here with a stupid cold. Instead you are one of the most useless beings who have ever walked on the earth! Your task was to keep me safe, and what have you done? You have almost made me freeze to death. If it wasn’t for you being the best sniper on the market, you would already be dead and buried.”

The ex-soldier bared his teeth. “Fuck off, Jim!” he barked getting up. He could feel his anger growing in his chest, pushing to be realised. He needed some fresh air to calm down or he would end up punching his employer.

“Where do you think you are going, Moran? You are not leaving this flat until I tell you that you can go. Sit down. Now” the consulting criminal ordered, knowing too well that the other had to obey to a direct command. His voice turned from ice-cold to mockingly. “What’s wrong, Sebby? Can’t stand you the truth? Does it hurt being the stupid, common and awfully boring little being that you are? Oh, I can understand it. If I’m so disgusted by you, I can’t even image how horrible being you must be. My poor worthless pet. You always try so hard and yet you only manage to be disappointing.”

Moran clenched his fists, knuckles paling as his nails sunk in his palms. That was really enough. He hadn’t slept properly in three days because of the shorter man’s moods and pranks. He was tired, he had a terrible headache and his injured shoulder hurt like hell because he hadn’t had the time to treat it properly in the last week. “So that’s it? I’m just a useless bore to you?” he sneered, his pale eyes burning with anger. “Alright. That’s fine. I mean, you are the almighty genius here, so it must be true. Then I guess you don’t mind if I quit, do you?”

Jim’s eyes widened in surprise. He wasn’t expecting that answer. “You what? You can’t be serious” he asked, furious and incredulous. “You can’t just quit, Moran! Don’t be an even worse idiot. You know very well that there’s only one way to leave my side.”

“Oh, I know it well, Moriarty” the sniper spat out, crossing his arms. He was still standing in spite of the previous command to sit down and his eyes wore a defiant look. The shorter man was right, he wasn’t thinking about getting fired, in all senses, for real. But he couldn’t take that situation any longer and he wanted to push the other as far as he could, not caring about the consequences. Moriarty wouldn’t get rid of him so easily, or at least he hoped so. “But I am quitting. Come on, call your men and have me killed, that’s this is the procedure, right? I have executed too many people for you not to know how it works. Will you torture me? I bet you will, after all I’m not just one of your minions”. His sneer widened in a sickening way seeing that his boss hadn’t moved at all. “What are you waiting for? I’m worthless, an idiot, aren’t I? I’m sure that you can easily hire another sniper, even if he won’t be as good as I am. But you can deal with it. As you can find a new second in command and someone else ready to fuck you. Don’t you agree, Jim?”

“Moran, I told you to stop being an idiot. You are talking nonsense” the consulting criminal said, coldly but calmly. He couldn’t believe his ears. That wasn’t the first time they had a heated fire, but he must really have pulled the man’s strings too much to make him say those things. And he didn’t like it at all, because he could read in the other’s posture that he wasn’t kidding after all. Besides, his employee had never used his surname since their first meeting. Another bad sign. “Maybe it’s better if you go for that walk and cool down. Then you had better to come back and apologise. Otherwise I will consider for real your death wish.”

Sebastian held his gaze, almost mockingly. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere. You are no longer my boss, you can’t give me orders. I’m a dead walking man, but I’m also a free one now” he stated, lowering his voice in turn. “So, go on and kill me. I have no intention to work for a man who doesn’t even care for his own life. I’m not ending up once again alone and unemployed in a blood dirty hole just because my boss has killed himself or has been killed out of carelessness! No way, I’d rather die while still holding my position!”

Jim rolled his eyes, irritated. “Now, now, Moran. Don’t give me that crap” he snorted, leaning his chin on the palm of his hand. His tone was soaked in sarcasm. “Because you, filthy thing, care about my life instead, don’t you?”

The sniper shook his head in disbelief. How could the madman ask such a stupid question? “Of course I do care, you prick! I took a bullet for you less than a week ago! Or have you already forgotten? And it hasn’t been the first time that I almost got killed to protect you and your affairs. It’s my job, but I don’t enjoy it that much. Or do you think that I have some freaking fetish for being shot and torture perhaps?” he exclaimed, too worked up to really mind what he was saying. “I’m ready to do anything for you, to keep you safe and satisfied, to meet your bloody impossible expectations! I care about your life, and not only because you pay me. I care because working for you is my only aim, the only sense of my existence, because you, insane son of a bitch, and your fucking suicidal plans are my life!”

He was almost yelling by the end of his speech and once he was finished he just stood there, panting and frozen. He had said too much, he had let dangerous words slip through his lips, implying meanings that should have never seen the light of the day. The silence had fallen on the flat and a thick tension burdened the atmosphere, matching the intensity of the strange dark light that shone in Moriarty’s eyes. The latter kept his gaze focus on the ex-soldier, an unfathomable expression on his face. It was impossible know if he was furious, disappointed or simply disgusted. Sebastian knew only one thing. His boss hated sentiment, especially the kind he had just shown. It was really true, he was a worthless failure, he had just thrown away years of almost perfect service by making an only unforgivable mistake.

“You are so sweet that it makes me even more nauseous” the consulting criminal commented in the end, several minutes later. His tone matched his words, he really sounded sickened. His eyes, instead, bore something else, to obscure to be read. “You have deeply disappointed me, Moran. I haven’t hired you and made you my right-hand man to have you to care. On the contrary, I did it because I thought you wouldn’t. What should I do with you now?”

“I think I should leave” the ex-soldier answered quietly, lowering his gaze in shame. Speaking those words hurt more than the wound on his shoulder. “If you decide to get rid of me, your men will find me at my place. I won’t fight back, I promise. If you don’t…Call me when you have got a job for me. I’ll go on doing everything I’ve always done for you, but I swear that you won’t see my face or hear my voice again unless it’s strictly necessary.”

He was about to turn to leave, but Jim’s voice stopped him one more time. “Sebastian Moron, take another step and I will shoot you here and now” it threatened, but the harshness in it was gone. “Where do you think you are going? I’ve already told you that you can’t leave if I don’t give you the permission to do it. You can’t leave, I still need your assistance. I’m sick and it’s your fault. You still have to make it up to me.”

Moran looked at his employer, confused and surprise. He had thought that the man would be happy to have him out of the way, instead there was an almost playful hint in his voice. The consulting criminal got up from his spot and approached him, but when he sought his gaze he noticed that the other’s eyes were now avoiding him.

“Boss?” he inquired, uncertain.

“I’ll tell you more, ‘Bastian. You’d better make up your slow mind and move in here, once and for all. You have been thinking about it for months. I think you should just act on it as you do with all the rest” he claimed, leaving his employee speechless. For the first time he was thankful for the fever that reddened his cheeks. Not that he would blush, of course. His body didn’t know that kind of reaction. Even if he couldn’t deny that he was feeling a bit uncomfortable. He grabbed the taller man’s wrist and his nails painfully dug in the other’s flesh. He was a psychopath unable to feel love or friendship or whatever, and yet the thought of no longer having his lethal shadow by his side made something tremble inside him. It didn’t scare him, but it still didn’t feel right. “I can’t afford you to go around alone. You a potential target that could be used against me, even if not an easy one. I need to keep you close to me, so that I can help you to hide your idiotic sentimentalism. We have appearances to keep up. Moriarty can’t afford weaknesses. Got it?”

Sebastian grinned widely at that, a real smile blossoming on his face. Jim couldn’t help staring at it. He had never seen his sniper smile sincerely. He usually smirked or sneered, and there was always a hint of sarcasm or scorn in his expression. His sharp features seemed softer in that moment. He felt a hand covering his own, fingertips gently brushing his skin.

“I got it, boss” the ex-soldier nodded slowly. He hadn’t missed what his employer wanted to say with his words. “I don’t know how this happened, but I fucking care too. I should have you killed, but instead I want you to stay by my side. Forever and always”. It warmed him up from the inside. He wasn’t expecting the other to say it aloud and he was fine with that. It was as Jim had said, Moriarty couldn’t afford to have weaknesses, as Moran shouldn’t have. He sank his eyes in those dangerously charming dark globes. “And I got you.”

The consulting criminal smirked, a hint of fondness on his face, and realised him wrist. “I’m sure of that, Seb. You are the best when you take charge of something” he simply stated, closing the matter and making up a bit for his previous insults at the same time. “Now, I think you should cook us dinner. It’s already late.”

The sniper nodded and disappeared in the kitchen, while Moriarty sank back in the couch pillows, listening to the sound of dishes and kitchenware being moved. He tapped a finger on his lips, pensively. Maybe he had made a mistake, indulging on his moment of fragility. But it should be nothing irreparable. After all, he had done nothing but sorting out an inconvenient issue that had stayed unsolved for too much time and that his employee had accidentally brought up. It was fated to happen sooner or later. Moran had never put too much effort in concealing the attraction he held for him, both on a physical level and on a mental one. He himself had never been immune to the sniper’s rough charm, especially since he was able to see his sharp mind behind his merciless bloodthirsty killer’s mask. They had started to gravitate around each other every time they had had the chance to, both of them pretending not to notice their common pull. Then one evening, after a particularly exciting job, it had happened. Sebastian was turned on as always after a killing and he was still thrilled as well by the unexpected but fun sides that the episode had provided to him. Their eyes had lingered in each other a moment too much and the next thing he had known was that he was pressed against a wall, hands in his sniper hair, while they were both busy devouring each other’s mouth. It had been the first of the countless night that the taller man had spent in his bed.

And yet, not even the sex had solved their issue. Acting on a purely physical level had gave them the chance to unload the tension, but it was only a matter of time before it would start not to be enough anymore. The Finnish fiasco had been the breaking point of a situation that had been going on for years. He was furious because Moran had been shot. He knew too well that the ex-soldier could have died on that frozen land and he had found himself unable to deal with the overwhelming feeling that the awareness had given him. So he had taken it out on the sniper, who had been madly worried as well because Jim had avoided death by a hair in turn. The whole situation had already happened before, more than once, but they had arrived at their limit. They had to ways to solve the matter, parting forever or acting on it. And, since the first option was unacceptable, they had had no real choice other than playing their little show of yells and threats. Now they were finally done, it was settled once and for all. Moriarty knew that it should have upset him, all that sentiment, but instead it had put him in a better mood. And it was a very welcome surprise.

They dined in silence and for once the consulting criminal didn’t make a fuss over eating his food or shoot his employee some sarcastic comment about his cooking. Actually it was quite good, but there was no way that Jim complimented it, not even under torture. After the meal the dishes were abandoned in the sink, where they would be in the morning waiting for Sebastian to take care of them, and the two moved back in the living room. The sniper had planned to go back to his book, but his boss prevented him from doing it, forcing him to lay down on the couch and then curling up next to him, back against his chest, being careful not to harm the injure shoulder. He didn’t protest, too astonished to say or do anything. In the end he tentatively sneaked an arm around the shorter man’s waist and, seeing that no harm had come from his dare, he relaxed a bit more, his other hand playing with the other’s silky hair. The news was playing on the television but none of them was really paying attention.

“Ah, Seb, by the way. I don’t like to cuddle” Moriarty purred pressing himself closer to him, but his tone seemed to mean the opposite of what he had said. He lifted his arm, fingertips brushing the ex-soldier’s jaw. “So don’t get the wrong idea. This is not going to become a habit.”

Moran smirked. “Of course, Jim. I would never think that” he nodded with a hint of sarcasm. “This is a special occasion.”

The consulting criminal shot him a nasty glare. “You shouldn’t provoke me. You know that the consequences are everything but enjoyable. At least, for the one who suffers them” he warned, but his voice remained quiet. He snorted. “I hate you, ‘Bastian. You unworthy moron.”

The ex-soldier laughed at that. “Always flattering, aren’t you?” he commented, but didn’t felt offended by the insults. On the contrary the fond tone in which they had been pronounced pleased him. “Well, I think that you are a bloody insane bastard”. His fingers ran on his boss side teasingly. “But that’s also why I like you so much after all.”

Moriarty raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to make me sick enough to throw up my dinner, Moran?” he mocked, rolling on his back to be able to face him. “You’d have to clean up, I’m warning you.”

“Flattering and now romantic” the taller man commented sarcastically. “Seriously, boss, you really know how to set the mood!”

“And you seriously should shut up. It’s you and your idiotic mouth who are spoiling the mood, not me, darling.”

“Why don’t you make me?”

A manic grin crept on Jim’s face and he leant forwards, capturing the sniper’s lips with his own, his arms moving around the other’s neck, hugging it almost too tight. They eagerly kissed, immediately deepening the contact, but for the first time it was a real kiss and not a rough battle for dominance made of bites and attempts to literally steal the other’s breath away. Mouths melted together pressing one against the other, firmly but almost affectionately, and tongues danced, spreading heat along their tangled bodies. Moran would have sworn to have heard Moriarty moan in pleasure in the kiss, but didn’t dare to make a comment about it as they parted to catch their breath, also because his attention was captured by the sight of his boss slowly licking his lips.

“You’ll get sick staying this close to me. Are you aware of that, Seb? And what about your wound?” the madman asked smirking as he pecked him on the mouth. “I’m not going to nurse you, forget it.”

“My immune system is stronger than yours, and I can take the pain. I will be fine” he shrugged, titling his head as he ran his tongue at the base of his employer’s neck. “But I appreciate the thought.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, I was just stating a fact”. Jim pushed him away and freed himself from his grip. He got up and stretched. “Now you’d better come to bed and fuck me. Maybe I will forgive you for your stupid speech about quitting.”

Sebastian jumped on his feet and immediately followed him, not even trying to hide his eagerness. He should have protested since his boss still had some lines above fever and his shoulder hadn’t still recovered, but it would have been a waste of time. When Moriarty set his mind on something there was no way to talk him out of him. The feeling of a hand sleeping in his own interrupted his thoughts. He shot a glance at the other, who kept his eyes in front of him as nothing was happening, and smiled again. He had better enjoy the evening because for sure Jim wasn’t going to be this affectionate again anytime soon. He gently squeezed the cold pale fingers, in a silent gesture of appreciation as he entered the bedroom.

The consulting criminal smirked in response and pushed him on the bed, throwing himself on the top of him immediately after and capturing his mouth once again. Maybe having a weakness could have his positive sides, Moriarty mused as the sniper’s hand roughly caressed his skin, making him shiver in anticipation. At least in private. He would surely come out with a way to exploit it. After all, taking out the best from every possible situation and making all the pieces fit together was his job. It was just another game, like his usual ones, but with the difference that he would lose everything if he made a mistake. His grin widened in the kiss. Not boring at all.

Hello, folks!

This is my first (published) story about Sherlock fandom. The series i without any doubt my favourite show, and I really wanted to write something about it. And since I'm completely in love with Jim Moriarty, he had to be the focus of my first work in the fandom, especially after what they has shown us last month. Don't worry, this story is spoiler free!

Speaking of that, I think this could be considered pre-series or at least pre-TRF (of course). I've been reading/watching also other books/stories/films related to Sherlock Holmes and I found myself quite caught by Sebastian Moran's character as well (yeah, I'm one of the people who really long to see him in "Sherlock" as well...Or to get that spin-off about him and Jim that had been proposed by some fan on the internet. It would be awesome!).

Since today is V-Day, I thought that it could be nice to publish the story today, also to say "Happy V-Day" to everyone, even if I don't celebrate and even if the fic has nothing to do with it.

Sorry for the rambling (I always get nervous when I'm publishing something!). Please, let me know what you think about it! I don't have a beta, so please, forgive me my errors. English is not my first language!


Warnings: The story contains slash (Moran/Moriarty, Mormor)! Don't like, don't read please!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the show. Everything belong to A. C. Doyle and BBC!

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RT King AU inspired by Mallius on Tumblr
Mad King Ryan blog following this AU:

General stuff:
The Kingdom of Achievement City is ever-changing. The world is not what we would consider a world, rather a plane of dimension. What the Kingdom rules over is uncertain, but mortals cannot enter it. It can be seen as a Heaven, as the Nether is seen as Hell, but the Kingdom isn’t anything close to the peaceful and wonderful idea of Heaven. It is a place of turmoil and hardship, and certainly not for the faint of heart. While you can never truly die there, as you just simply return but with everything of your previous ‘life’ gone, you can still feel pain. It is a land of creation and destruction, and only a selected few can survive there. While the land has their Leaders, there must be a King to rule the Kingdom.

How a King is chosen is different to normal royal systems. Six have been chosen, each worthy and strong in their own way. Some might call them Gods, but they are more like immortal men. There is the Drunkard, Geoff Ramsey, the Tradesman Jack Pattillo, the Vagabond Ryan Haywood, the Warrior Michael Jones, the Knight Ray Narvaez Jr (sometimes referred to as the Knight of Roses), and the Fool Gavin Free. The acting King reigns for so long, usually for several millennia, then when the time comes he must set various tasks to see who is worthy to become the next King. When one completes a task, they are given a golden artifact. Once collecting four of these artifacts, they have proven themselves, and must slay the acting King. Since death is not permanent in the Kingdom, the slain King simply returns to the Kingdom. Whatever the King does in the Kingdom affects whatever it rules over. How it is affected is unsure, but it usually based around if the action is ‘good’ or ‘bad’.

The Chosen:
The first King was Geoff Ramsey. At first glance he appears to be another drunk fool, but he is so much more than that. He witnessed the creation of the Kingdom, and was even given the ability to change it. While the others posses this ability, they do not have the amount of power Geoff has. He is wise and cunning, but his ego often gets the better of him. Though him becoming the first King was of no surprise to anyone, and he ruled fair and just.

The second was Ryan Haywood. At first he appeared normal, but as time went on it was clear he had dark secrets. Strangely though, he only began to act peculiar after a cow wandered into his home. Later he trapped the cow and called it Edgar. He never gave an answer as to why. His sanity declined greatly since then. There have been attempts to free Edgar, but Ryan stated that ‘Edgar is the one in the hole’. He began to capture a variety of other animals, but most got free. Despite his growing madness, his reign was true and good. The others were wary of him, but didn’t see him as an immediate threat. In truth though, the Vagabond was trying to protect them. His home is over a crack of reality, a small sliver between the Kingdom and the bottom of the Nether. A demon seeped through, forming the shape of a cow and calling itself Edgar, but was bound to the crack. Ryan discovered it, learnt it feeds off souls, and to protect the Kingdom and the others he trapped it. He didn’t wish to worry the others, so instead pretended to be mad to hide his secrets. But the demon connected itself to Ryan’s mind, and slowly but surely the man lost his mind.

The third King was Ray Narvaez Jr. Often nicknamed the Knight of Roses, and during his reign the King of Roses, he was the youngest King. He has an unusually strong connection with nature, and a great love of roses and mushrooms, but a hate of cake. He is quick with a sword, but is also known for his magical abilities. He has suggested he studies dark magic, but when asked about it, he outright denies it. While he was a good King, he was also one of the bloodiest. He loves a good battle, especially if he gets to fight. He was also one of the most light-hearted kings, who enjoyed a good party and liked to help where he could. But he’s young, and because of his lack of responsibility and care-free nature, his reign was the shortest.

The fourth King was Michael Jones. The others were wary of him coming to power, as he is known for his sudden outbursts and his curse. Though a great warrior, he is stubborn and proud. He caused a great deal of uproar in the days of old, and so he was cursed. He is part man, part beast. When provoked, or when he chooses (which is rare), he transforms into Mogar, a monster which appears to be a man but has the characteristics of a bear. Mogar is vicious and merciless, and it’s wrath can last for weeks. While Michael has a great deal of control of Mogar, even so far as being able to harness the beast’s power without actually transforming’, he has times where he slips. Though when he chooses to change into Mogar, he has some control over his actions. His reign wasn’t easy as his outbursts caused a great deal of trouble, he was still a good King and tried to do well for the Kingdom. Because of his close friendship with Gavin Free, the Fool became his assistant and was given golden boots. Gavin was nicknamed ‘The Fool who dance on gold’. Later in Michael’s reign, Ryan became his mentor, and was known to do certain tasks for the Vagabond.

The fifth King was Ryan. It was clear by this time, during his second reign, the man’s mind was broken. His madness either caused him to do great deeds, or horrible ones. He still tried to keep it together, and the others hoped he would. But as his reign went on, the demon took more and more of his mind. The others lost hope when the tasks were set. Through the use of a spirit who assisted him with the tasks, Ryan tried to free the demon by sacrificing the spirit to be used as a physical body for the demon. He expected the demon to kill the others, but things didn’t go as planned when Gavin slayed it, forcing it to return to it’s cage. After his reign, he knew he would be punished, so the others sent him to the Nether for a great deal of time, until their hearts got the better of them and brought him back.

The current King is Gavin Free. Though named the Fool for his stupidity and carelessness, he was given the power to change the Kingdom by Geoff, and uses it wisely. While he is a fool, he is also a master of archery and pyromancy, and can be rather cunning and sneaky. For now, Gavin appears to be a noble King, but these are early days and no one is sure what to expect, especially since the reign of the Mad King.

The only one who has not become King is Jack Pattillo. It is a great surprise to the others, as he is skilled in a great deal of things. While his power to change the Kingdom is not great, he is rather skilled in building and creating, and nicknamed the Trader. He is almost a master swordsman, and cunning and intelligent, and knows how to play the game. But he also isn’t afraid to betray his friends, and they know it. But as to when he becomes King, he merely says ‘my time will come when the world is ready.’

Various spirits have been known to appear in the Kingdom from time to time. They either help the Chosen, who cause trouble for them. One spirit had the potential to become one of the Chosen, but instead he betrayed them. Another spirit, who could potentially be a Chosen, is known to be rather close to Michael, even so far as to say she loves him. Unfortunately for one of the spirits, he was used as a pawn during the second reign of the Vagabond

The Ghosts:
Ghosts are different to spirits, as they created by someone or something and don’t have a mind of their own. They are fairly weak and usually quite harmless, and tend to roam the Nether, They usually resemble someone, if that someone has a connection to darkness. So far, only two Ghosts resemble the Chosen (they know very little of the Ghosts and how they come about). The first is ‘Ghost Ray’. Ray practices dark magic from time to time, and eventually his Ghost was created. He appears from time to time, and doesn’t have any interest in the others (he seems not to register they’re even there). The Second is ‘Ghost Ryan’. His came about because of his connection to Edgar. Only he knows of Ghost Ryan. Edgar uses Ghost Ryan to tease and torture Ryan mentally and emotionally, but it takes a great deal of strength to do so, so Ghost Ryan rarely appears.
So yeah I kinda made my own RT King AU
Eventually I'm going to write a fic for it which goes into detail
Here's some other stuff about it:…
Follow my Mad King Ryan blog for updates and shiz
Also check out Mallius's art, it's amazeballs
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"Daddy, why aren't you and Papa married?"

That was a good question, wasn't it? One answer that popped in Tony's mind was that he never though about getting married. But well, he never thought he'd be living with Captain America or that he would adopt a child. A few years ago if someone said that one day there would be a small 6 year-old boy in his garage watching him work, Tony would laugh so hard he'd probably fall into a coma.

"I don't know, Peter."

"Do you want to marry him?"

Tony stopped to think. Did he want to marry Steve? He already woke up next to him every morning, they took Peter to school together, had meals together, cleaned the house together, told bedtime stories to Peter together. A formal marriage wasn't necessary. But 'needing' and 'wanting' were different things, and Peter asked Tony if he wanted to marry Steve.

"You know, I think I do."

"Why don't you ask him?" Of course Peter would ask that, because Peter was a child and when you're a child things are that simple. But then again, when Tony thought about it, it really was that simple.

"Would you like it? If me and Papa got married?" Tony asked going to sit next to his son.

"Yes. Weddings are fun. There's a lot of food." Tony chuckled and ruffled Peter's hair. "And you would be all happy like those couples on movies."

"You could be the ring boy."

"Really?" Peter's eyes lit up as he looked at Tony with a big smile.

"Of course. You think you're up to it?" Tony asked and Peter put on a straight face and nodded. "Alright then. You're hired."

They stayed in the garage for a while longer making all sorts of plans. Peter wants AC/DC to play live at the wedding and Tony high-fives him because he's proud of his son's music taste. He ends up forging the rings out of wasted parts of his suit - Peter's idea.

The three of them have a movie night and watch 'The Road to El Dorado'. They're about 40 minutes into the movie when Peter hits pause because he has to go to the bathroom. Tony has his hand in his jeans' pocket where the rings are and looks over at Steve who is in the other end of the couch shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. Tony smiles fondly and clenches the rings in his hand.

"We have it good, don't we?" He starts, to get Steve's attention. Tony would gladly pay for a fancy dinner to propose, but he knows Steve wouldn't care about the dinner, so, why wait? "You, me, Peter. We're practically a family."

"Practically? Tony, we are a family." Steve replies turning to Tony with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, but... " And that's when Tony realized he didn't know what to say. "I love you."

"I know..." Steve said, uncertain. "Is there something wrong?"

"No! Why?"

"You're being weird."

"Daddy's trying to ask you marry him, but he's being a chicken." Peter said from behind the couch, both man turning to look at him.

"Hey! I'm not be- I was looking for the right words." - Tony said, looking offended, a rare blush on his cheeks.

"You should have tried 'will you marry me', I think those words would have done it." Steve stated with a smile before leaning in and kissing him.

"That better be a yes, and not a pity kiss." Tony said with a huge smile that Steve returned.
:iconyaoipigglet: : "What about little Peter helping Tony to ask Steve to marry him?"

... In which Peter has more balls than Tony.

I hope you like this, because I had so much fun writing it!

(I didn't proof-read it. If you find any mistakes, please tell me!)

Send me prompts: [link]

Sequel - Wedding: [link]
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"Get back down here!"

"NO! Put that d--"

"Stand still!"

"Stop moving!"

A giggly ball of feathered energy zoomed around the bunker, zapping in and out of rooms to end up on either a shelf or a table. Sam and Dean Winchester were running around uselessly, flapping their arms, trying to grab their infant Castiel. In case you're wondering... It was a hunt. Something went wrong. This was only temporary. 

Dean plopped onto the couch, pure exhaustion etched onto his face. Sam was still running after the elusive baby angel. As Dean sat there, he wondered what the hell happened to Cas that turned him from that to a stoic, emotionless angel of the Lord. 

Meanwhile, Sam thought he had Cas trapped in a corner of the kitchen. But the toddler was still smiling away. Sam took cautious movements closer to Cas and he wrapped his hands around him finally, but the angel decided to teleport just then. Sam was in the kitchen one moment, and then standing precariously on a stair railing on the upper level of the bunker. He gasped and jumped down onto the safer ground of the floor, the baby nowhere to be seen. Sam was clutching his chest, afraid he might of just had a heart attack. Now he was starting to get angry. He walked downstairs again to see Dean nearly passed out on the sofa. He sat next to him.

"You look like crap, Sammy..."

"You're not looking much better."

"What are we gonna do?" Dean heard the incessant flapping of wings from another room. 

"I don't know. Do angel babies need to sleep? Maybe if we get him to take a nap for a while, he'll wake up and the spell would have worn off already."

"That could work, but how are we catching him in the first place?"

"I don't know..." Sam said again, feeling defeated. The brothers sat there, happy for the limited movement involved in it. Then a loud crash came from the other room. 

"You're on your own, Sam," Dean stated and stood and headed for his room to hopefully get some shut-eye. 

"Dean!" Sam yelled after him, but the older Winchester just saluted him. Sam groaned, standing up to check the damage. He walked in on Castiel sitting on the floor, the shards of a vase littering the floor, and he was staring fixedly at his hand. The classic expression of squinted eyes and a confused look decorated his little face. There was blood coming from the hand. That's when Sam ran over to the mess.

"Cas, what did you do?" Sam sighed. The angel looked up at him. The cut didn't seem to bother him, strangely. 

"Alright, I'm gonna patch you up, okay?" Sam asked the angel, even though he knew it wouldn't make much of a difference. Sam picked up the young angel and held him close to his chest. He brought him to the bathroom. There he sat him down on the edge of the sink and took his hand to wash. The baby twitched when the water made contact with the cut, stinging a little bit.

Sam noticed and he apologized, "Sorry, Cas..." 

The baby angel watched him as he worked, first dabbing the wound with a cloth and then wrapping it in a small tuft of cotton followed by a band-aid. Sam knew if this was adult Cas, he would just heal it himself. He didn't think this child knew how to do that yet. 

"Feel better?" Sam asked, throwing out or putting away the used supplies. Cas nodded, looking at the foreign bandage on his hand. When Sam was finished, he picked up the kid again and took him to the living room. He set him down on the couch and he sat next to him.

"Want to do anything?" Sam asked. Castiel just looked at him for a while before smiling and saying, "Game!" Sam scratched the back of his head and said, "Okay... What game?"

"Hide 'n seek!" the angel cheered. Sam was surprised the angel even knew that game, since it was primarily for humans, he thought. The younger Winchester couldn't fight the smile that crept up on his lips. 

"Okay, who do you want--"

"I'll hide!" Cas pointed to himself.

"Alright, but here are some rules: You can't fly in and out of the rooms when I'm looking for you. You have to walk or run. Okay? Otherwise, that's cheating. And try not to hurt yourself," Sam said. The angel nodded, eager to get the game going.

"30... 29... 28..." Sam closed his eyes and started to count down. He heard Cas gasp and the little patter of feet running across the wooden floor. He grinned as he counted. He soon hit zero and that's when Sam stood up.

Only a minute into the game, he realized he should have made the rules more strict, as in confine the rooms to which the angel could hide in. He started by looking in the downstairs rooms on the floor he was on. Nothing in the laundry room, nor the kitchen, nor his room. He walked around the corner to Dean's room. The door was shut. Sam knocked before entering.

Dean was sitting on his bed with headphones in his ears and a computer.

"Have you seen Cas?" Sam said loudly in case Dean didn't hear.

"No, sorry."

Sam nodded, turning to leave when he thought he heard a small squeak from somewhere. He turned back to face Dean on the bed. The younger one gave Dean a questioning look.

"What was that?"

"Oh, just had to clear my throat."

Sam wasn't buying it, and he fought a grin as he stepped into the room further.

"Dean, are you sure you didn't see Cas?"

"Positive. He was your responsibility, so he should be with you," Dean was an expert liar. But Sam could see his resolve cracking in the effort to look as nonchalant as possible. 

"Positive?" Sam circled his brother's bed, looking for the flap of a black wing or the string of a trenchcoat out of the corner of his eye. 

"Yes, now will you stop asking?"

Sam heard the noise again and it seemed to be coming from Dean's bed. That's what stumped him for a while, and then he smiled. 

"I wonder where Cas is if he's not in here. I don't know if I'll ever find him," Sam played, stalking around the bed again. Dean's lip was quivering now, trying not to smile and give away his position. 

"I don't think he'd be in here... Unless Dean's lying to me," Sam cocked a brow at his brother. Then he got onto his knees beside the bed. The giggly noises increased. Now Sam was smiling. 

"You know, if Cas was really in here, he should know about the monster after him," Sam paused, "Do you know what monster that is, Dean?"

"I think so," Dean finally smirked.

"Good. Because if that monster gets a hold of Cas, he won't be getting out," Sam teased on further, "Cassie..." 

Sam dove under the bed and saw the little trenchcoat and feathered ball curled up in the center, a wide grin splitting his face. He squealed when Sam appeared. "Gotcha!" Sam reached a long moose arm at the angel and he came out from under the bed holding him in the air triumphantly. 

"I have captured the angel!" Sam practically threw Cas onto the bed next to Dean, the latter sitting up and giggling. Dean also smiled at this playfulness displayed by his brother. 

"Dehehean!" the angel whined.

"What? I didn't do anything! You gave yourself away there, kiddo," Dean poked Cas's belly. The angel flinched and giggled again. 

"Oh, Cas... I think that monster is here to get you," Sam said, pausing dramatically, "He's big, and tall, and--"

"Ugly," Dean supplied, grinning. Sam rolled his eyes, "Handsome," he continued, "And he heard that you like to laugh. Is that right?"

Cas looked too giddy to answer and he just sat there with big blue eyes staring at Sam. 

"Do you know the monster's name?" Sam asked.

Cas shook his head.

Sam inched closer to Cas now before he yelled out, "The tickle monster!" and he pounced on the angel and wiggled his fingers on his pudgy sides and stomach. Cas squealed before dissolving into loud, happy laughter. Dean chuckled at the scene.

"You're gonna make him blow out a window if you get him going too much," Dean pointed out.

"I'll stop when it's time," Sam smiled and then switched back to being the tickle monster, "Oh, is little Cassie ticklish?"

The angel didn't reply and just laid there and laughed, unable to get out of Sam's grip. 

"What do you think, Dean?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged, "I don't know. He looks to be very ticklish. Maybe if..." Dean couldn't resist reaching over and pulling a small arm up and wiggling a few fingers in the now exposed armpit. Cas laughed adorably, his face being buried into the side of his arm. Sam grinned. 

"I don't think I'm convinced yet," Sam said, adoring the look on Cas's breathless face. He focused on wiggling his fingers all over the young angel's belly and bellybutton. That, along with Dean joining in on the tickling, had Cas in stitches. The temptation was too great and Sam lifted up the angel's shirt to get at his bare belly. He leaned down and blew a raspberry, stubble adding to the ticklish feelings on Cas's soft stomach. 

"SAHAHAHAHAHAMMY!!!" the child screeched, laughter falling silent for a second. Dean swore he felt the whole bunker rattle and shake with the force of that scream. That's when he pulled his fingers away from the angel. Cas was futilely pulling at Sam's hair. 

"I don't know who Sammy is, sorry," Sam grinned. He still kept Cas pinned with one hand as he leaned off Cas. Then he took one of Castiel's ankles in his hand. The baby angel giggled in anticipation.

"The tickle monster has a thing for ticklish feetsies," Sam went on, "Are your little tootsies ticklish, Castiel?"

The child just started giggling and shook his head.

"No!?" Sam looked shocked, "I think I need to test that anyway..." and he took one of his fingers and wiggled it under the angel's foot. Cas shrieked and giggled loudly.

"I think you were lying to me. What does the tickle monster do to those who lie to him, Dean?" Sam asked. He kept up the facade rather well. Dean chuckled and looked at Cas.

"I don't think you need me to answer that..."

"Just play along!" Sam said and tickled Dean's socked feet lying next to him, too. Dean yelped and laughed briefly, yanking his feet away from his brother.

"Alright! He..." Dean held out the word and moved closer to Cas before whispering, "... tickles you!"

Sam ran his fingers all across the toddler soft, small feet. Cas was laughing like a maniac in a matter of seconds, squirming and kicking as much as he could. Sam then wiggled his fingers along the base of the angel's toes, getting his laughter to jump up in volume and pitch. Dean pinched his side just for fun. Castiel was nearly in tears. Sam surprised him by grouping his feet together and burying his face into them.

"NAHAHAHA SAHAHAHAMMY!" baby Cas screeched. Sam blew tiny raspberries on each miniature foot.

"Sam, that's overkill, don't you think?"

"One more," Sam grinned wickedly and took a huge breath before blowing a final raspberry on the angel's soles. Sam pulled back immediately after that. Cas crawled over to Dean and curled up next to him, a huge smile still gracing his features. Dean smiled and wrapped an arm around the tiny mass of angel, pulling him closer to himself.

"Was the tickle monster mean to you?" Dean asked. Cas nodded and pointed at Sam, "Bad Sammy!" but he was grinning widely as he said so. Sam chuckled.

"Sorry, Cas. But it wasn't me, it was the tickle monster."

"Nu-uh! It was you!"

"Maybe I helped him..."

The two hunters and the young angel sat in the room quietly. They were all feeling extremely happy, which was seldom. But it felt nice. Cas yawned and closed his eyes. Sam took the child and put him to bed in his own room, wishing him a good rest.


The next day, Cas woke up his normal, aged self. Dean welcomed him back and Sam just grinned at him. The younger Winchester went about his own normal daily activities, picking up a lore book, trying to decipher some of the text in it. Cas walked into the room and smirked.

"How's the book?"

"Fine," Sam answered.

"I was wondering, is there anything in there about tickle monsters?"

Sam looked up from the volume and met Cas's gaze. The angel was smirking very slightly and soon Sam chuckled, shaking his head in embarrassment.

"I don't remember much, but I must have been quite the nuisance for you and Dean."

"No, Cas, you were fine."

"I woke up with this on my hand," he held up his hand with the band-aid on it. Sam smiled at the memory, the bandage now looking far too small for the angel's hand.

Cas stared at it thoughtfully and then he said, "I appreciate what you and your brother did for me while I was like that. I would love to repay you at any given time."

"Don't mention it. You were a pretty cute kid once you got past the whole annoying part..." Sam teased. Castiel chuckled, "That was a form of a joke, right?"

Sam nodded. They sat there in a nice silence. Then Sam set his book down and his eyes lit up because an idea had struck him.

"Is Cas still afraid of the tickle monster?"

Cas looked at Sam and squinted his eyes, backing further into the couch, "No, I don't think so."

"You sure?" Sam advanced on the angel. Right before Castiel was about to zap himself out of the room, Sam tackled him.

"Let's see about that..." and he dug in. Well, Sam found out that Cas was still very scared of the tickle monster.

~The End~
I had this idea and poof, there it is. But I wanted to add in a ticklish!wings scene, but I forgot to write it and I couldn't find a good place to stick it in after I finished the fic. Here is kind of what it should have been like:

Sam continued tickling the little angel's torso, and his fingers ventured too far around Cas so they squeezed the base of what were his wings. That's why Sam was startled when the child shrieked and arched his back. He and Dean exchanged looks.

"What was that?" Sam asked, trying it again. The same reaction was presented to him, making him smile, "Aww, does our little angel have ticklish wings?"

"Nohoho!" Cas shook his head rapidly.

"I think he does, Sammy-- I mean, tickle monster," Dean grinned.

Sam reached behind Cas and wiggled his fingers along the underdeveloped wing tufts sticking out of his back. The child screamed and fell into unrestrained laughter. Sam pulled the kid into his lap so he could easier get at the ticklish appendages.

"SAMMY! NOHO WINGS NO WINGS! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Cas howled in laughter. Sam scratched the outer rim of the wings next, making Cas giggle loudly and squirm in his grip.

"They're so fluffy. Dean, feel Cas's wings," Sam winked. Dean rolled his eyes, but reached out a hand and stroked the one nearest him. They were very soft, the feathers almost mirroring the feeling of silk but better. They were small compared to the child's body, but that was most likely because they were not fully grown yet.

"They're nice, Cas," Dean chuckled, but the wings were flapping around in efforts to escape Sam's tickling fingers. Dean soon scratched lightly on one to see the reaction. The child's face was basically split into two from laughing so hard. Sam switched tactics next.......

Please Enjoy!

Supernatural (c)
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Jim had woken up a while ago. A long while. But he refused to open his eyes, just yet. Because, you see, he didn't need to.
He could feel the softness of the sheet, and duvet cover. It was, of course, thick – just how he liked it. Luxurious. Tantalisingly fluffy. He could feel the slight chill in the air around his face, as there always was in London, and the contrast of that with the warmth under the covers. He could feel the clothes he was wearing: just a pair of boxers with a plain t-shirt. And, if he stretched his hand, or foot, or body a little way to the right, he could feel the man lying next to him. Comfortingly close, so that if Jim ever felt disorientated or worried, he could just reach out and he'd be there. Looking after him and watching over him, even in his sleep. Sebastian Moran: The best sniper in London and the best lover a man could ask for.
He could smell that gorgeous shower gel that Sebastian always used, without fail or deviance. He could smell the faint aroma of tea from the mugs they'd abandoned across the room just the night before, searching instead for heat and snugness under the covers of the bed. He could just about, if he pulled apart the scent around him well enough, smell the congestion from outside. The fumes of London, or rather the cars and trucks and buses within it.
He heard the roar of car engines and the beeping of horns to accompany it, making a cacophonous symphony: a beautiful pandemonium dedicated to the city and those who inhabited it. He heard the slow, steady breathing of his partner, lying mere inches away from him.
He didn't want to open his eyes yet, but felt he had to. He had to sneak a peek at the man lying next to him. The man he loved. His eyes crept open almost cautiously, as if he were afraid all that he remembered might have gone overnight, and he was alone again. But there he was. The beautiful, perfect man that made Jim feel different inside. He'd change anything for that man.
Because he loved him. Completely, entirely, madly, with every fibre of his being. He was in love with Sebastian Moran.
And it felt damn good.
Mostly a descriptive piece. I'm just testing out a different style of writing to my usual one, and figured I'd do it with my current favourite ship - Sebastian Moran and James 'Jim' Moriarty. MorMor for short ;)
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Everybody hearing the scream jumped to the plea. As  a blond haired thirty year old was running with a small thirty five year old in his arms. Carrying the man bridal style in a hospital. Running to find a certain ward.

When the guy reached it, the man he was holding, had been taken away and attempted to be saved. Slowly his heart rate calmed as he slide himself down the wall and ended up crying silently with his knees up against he.

Hours passed when finally a nurse appeared. Immeditly the man who had been crying awoke himself and made sure to hold himself through dowt as the nurse came over and said "Mr Rodges. Mr stark is stable now but he will be unconscious for the next 24 hours as he has lost a lot of blood. But you can see him those, he's over there room 26."

Immeditly the man got to his feet and ran to the room. Not caring about the nurse. He just wanted to see his closest friend. He didn't care as he entered the room over there. The room was small, but big enough for two people.

Slowly he calmed his speed in running and made sure to walk sensibly in. Where his friend tony stark lay. Tony was connected to many machines, as his metal heart was glowing through his gown you see. It made Steve frown as he sat beside him and said "Mr stark, you know if it wasn't for me you be dead. Idiot"

No response was given as Steve finished his sentence. Immeditly he sighed as he knew there wouldn't be, he knew he'd have a long wait ahead as he settled himself in and began to sing a tune that he would get him through.

Oh, I'm a good ol' rebel, Now that's just what I am.
And for this Yankee Nation, I do not give a damn.
I'm glad I fought again' 'er, I only wish we'd won.
I ain't asked any pardon for anything I've done.

He only get a couple sentences before he ended up crying. For months he had feelings for Mr stark but each day he would coware out and would never speak a word of them. He would watch on as tony had done. Slowly he held his hand and tried not to make a sound as he rested his head on the bed and fell into a deep sleep as he knew he would keep.

When morning came, he immediately woke up alone again, but he sweating and shaking, remembering the horror of Tony's accident. Immeditly he breathed steadily as he got up and walked out from emotion hitting him once again.

Tears streamed down his face as he ran out and walked to the toilets as he didn't know where else to go but there. Immeditly when he entered, he lucky to find there was a stall open. Immediately he sat in there while continuing to cry.

A while passed, when Steve had been crying, he didn't know how long he had been in there, but he knew it was mid morning as more people began to arrive and use the loo more. Some actually knocked and asked if he was okay. He would always reply with a croaky "Yeah fine,"


From his lie, they would leave him be. crying silently. In time he did eventually leave the stall and walk back to find at last tony was up and about. He was rested against the bed board staring silently at the wall opposite.

Immediately he breathed steadily and fixed a smile on he as he entered the room and said "Well Mr stark, finally up are we."

immediately tony turned to him with a weak smile as he was half asleep you see. Slowly sieve sat beside him and made sure to keep an eye on him. Soon he talked to him and said "Tony I thought you were going to die, your such a idiot. I found you laying on the ground bleeding out."

when tony heard he immediately knew he was sad as he could see the tear lines and hear his voice breaking inside. Slowly he sat himself up and held his hand tight as he said with all his might "Steve I'm sorry, I never meant to cause you pain. Your the best soldier you see, that I need you to be with me."

Immeditly Steve's eyes widen as he said an obvious "What?"
Seeing him confused made tony smile as he placed his arm out and connected it with Steve's. Steve smiled at the touch as he felt like he had been in rut. Slowly he nodded as he understand what he had meant.

Slowly in time he did get to the question of "tony stark will you be mine?."
Hearing the question made tony blush as he said "Yeah I'd love to."

Hearing the acceptance made Steve jump in excitement as he did something widely and kissed him firmly. The kiss surprised both but in time they relaxed and enjoyed the touch. Tony couldn't help but smirk as he enjoyed this quiet a lot.

Steve's arms were round him as Tonys also. Both were comfortable kissing away, no interruptions, no questions just loving and slight cuddling.  When they did apart, Steve found himself resting against Tony's chest.

He didn't want to release as he was tired and he didn't want to feel alone again. Slowly in time tony finally spoke "Well, can we go now. I want a cheeseburger."
Hearing him made Steve chuckle as he sat up and said "I'd love to but we can't as your still resting and if I take you out, you can leave me with dowt, so if you want a cheeseburger, do you want me to get you one."

Immeditly tony nodded with bright sparkling excitement as he was hungry and needed some homely time, with food and his lover at mind. When Steve returned with it, the burger didn't even last a minute as it was eaten violently and swallowed easily.

Steve could of been sick at the sight but he knew it was alright, tony was back. happy and all, just him and Steve together for all. Both men knew when it was time, things would change but all in a good way.
Both together finding thier new love, forever them together.
This is for BowtiesAreCool15
If you wanna take a look :)
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The utterly impractical, never predictable,
Sometimes irascible, quite inexplicable, Irish.

Strange blend of shyness,
pride and conceit,
And stubborn refusal to bow in defeat.

He's spoiling and ready to argue and fight,
Yet the smile of a child
fills his soul with delight.

His eyes are the quickest to well up with tears,
Yet his strength is the strongest
to banish your fears.

His hate is as fierce as his devotion is grand,
And there is no middle ground
on which he will stand.

He's wild and he's gentle,
he's good and he's bad.
He's proud and he's humble,
he's happy and sad.

He's in love with the ocean,
the earth and the skies,
He's a lover of beauty wherever it lies.

He's victor and victim, a star and a churl,
But mostly he's Irish—
in love with his girl.
read it and weep.
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