Philyra912
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He tilts his head and dredges up one more tiny miracle, and somewhere in a very self-important county clerk’s office, paperwork is filed that declares Anthony J. Crowley the owner of a small, out-of-the-way cottage in the South Downs.
It is as good a place as any, to wait for the end of the world.
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A year ago, the world didn't end. Now it's summer and the cicadas are buzzing, and something is changing. Something is going to give.
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And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there you may be also.
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“Sam says we get to write our own stories now. That we’re finally free to make our own choices. And that’s what I’m choosing, Cas. To be that man, the one you died for. And that man wouldn’t leave you alone in the Empty. He’d fight for you, to get you back to the world you love so much. That’s the first thing I chose, now that I can choose things. I chose to find a way to get you back to us.” He swallowed hard. “To me.”
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Yom Kippur fell on a Thursday, not quite a month after what was arguably the third-worst day of Robby's life.
Bookmarked by Philyra912
06 Nov 2025
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“Stop it,” Buck huffs out, shuffling out of reach. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Eddie insists, sliding backwards until his socked foot touches Buck’s leg again.
“You’re being a dick.”
Buck attempts to move away again, and Eddie follows him, refusing to stop touching him with his socks until suddenly Buck’s not there anymore and a loud thump echoes throughout the room.
“Did you just—”
“Shit,” Buck mutters, and Eddie can vaguely see the shape of Buck’s body in the dark as he heaves himself up off the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
*
(A pillow wall and socked feet lead to changes in Buck and Eddie's relationship.)
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Bookmarked by Philyra912
20 Oct 2025
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“The name. Firehose.” Eddie’s eyes flicked down to the orange in his hands as he started on the next slice. “You said it had more to do with something else.”
“Oh! Right—well…” Buck laughed, a little awkward, rubbing the back of his neck and wringing his hands like he was debating whether or not he should answer. “I guess my question would be… do you know what hyperspermia is?”
Eddie froze mid-chew, then bit down—hard—on a slice of orange. The juice hit the back of his throat and sent him into a coughing fit.
Or; Eddie finds out Buck has hyperspermia and is totally normal and sane about it.
Bookmarked by Philyra912
14 Oct 2025
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“Buck—” Eddie choked out, a strangle of breath high in the back of his throat. “Can I…”
He trailed off. Let go of Buck’s wrist to drag his fingertips up over Buck’s stomach, over the ridge of his sternum, between his pecs, then laid his palm flat there—rubbing.
“Can you…?” Buck echoed, urging him to continue.
“Fuck you.” Eddie spit, flush high on his cheeks, embarrassed. “Here.”
Buck’s face flickered, not confusion but surprise, a split second and then a slow, washed-out smile. “You want to—” he gestured at his own body, “—right here, on my chest?” The note in his voice was soft, stunned, like the question itself was precious.
Eddie nodded, words stuck in his throat, but he didn’t look away. Not this time. He watched Buck’s eyes dilate; watched him draw a ragged breath.
“Fuck, Eddie, yes,” Buck said, almost a moan. He laid back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows, chest arched out, a blush crawling high up his neck. “You want me to just—” He circled a big hand over his pec, rubbing at the skin, then looked up for confirmation.
Or; Eddie fucks Buck's tits.
Bookmarked by Philyra912
14 Oct 2025
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The room spun for a beat before settling into dim shapes: the low gray light of early morning bleeding in through the blinds, the familiar slant of their bedroom ceiling—but none of that registered. What hit him first was the body against his.
His cheek was pressed against the top of a spine, rising and falling against his face with heaving breaths. His arm was wrapped around a torso that was moving with his own. His thigh was wedged up against hips that had just pushed back into him.
And that sound—that breath, that low, involuntary sound—it hadn’t come from him.
It had come from—
“Eddie,” Buck whispered. Voice raw, stuck halfway in his throat. He wasn’t even sure he’d meant to say it out loud.
“It’s okay,” Eddie spit, like it had come out instinctively—because Buck sounded scared, or maybe because Eddie was, too.
Eddie huffed, voice rough. “Keep going.”
Buck let out a shocked, stuttered, “Huh?”
Bookmarked by Philyra912
13 Oct 2025