amaranthine_09



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    “Sit down,” said Bobby in a voice that left no room for discussion.
    Dean sat.
    “We’re gonna talk about the angel,” said Bobby.
    Dean stood up.
    Sit,” Bobby said.

     

    Bobby Singer grew up a skeptic in a broken, bloodstained home, and cynicism served him fine till the day an angel of the Lord fished the closest thing he had to a son out of Hell.

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    21 Jun 2026

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    This isn't something that's okay, not for him, but it chases him through the years until it turns into something he can't -- doesn't want to deny.

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    17 Jun 2026

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    The interview is done, Louis is gone, and Daniel can finally get the fuck out of Dubai and go home to his significantly less comfortable couch. But there's something lingering in that penthouse. Memories that don't make sense. And try as he might, Daniel can't resist the pull, and the answers Armand might finally give him.

    or

    What really happened between Daniel and Armand in that penthouse after Louis left? And what in the goddamn hell went down in San Francisco?

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    27 May 2026

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    “I haven’t really been to a wedding where I’ve, uh… let loose. But, hey,” Dennis shrugged, “maybe I’m doing it wrong.”

    “If I hadn’t already agreed to go to this conference, I’d offer to go with you,” Robby said casually. “Show you how it’s done. I’ve got a good track record as a plus-one, too.” Dennis had to say something. To interrupt. To shut this down. But what was he supposed to say? No, you can’t be my plus one, because I lied about my cousin, and there is no wedding, and it seems a little weird to bring a date to a fucking funeral– “Apparently parents love it when you bring home a doctor.”

    And just like that, the bubble popped.

    “I’m not gay,” Dennis snapped.

    He had never hated the sound of his own voice as much as he did right then.

    ---
    Or, Dennis is anxiously headed home for a "wedding" in Broken Bow, Nebraska, the details of which are increasingly fuzzy. Robby's got a medical conference in Omaha that same weekend. So they carpool. Seventeen hours both ways in an enclosed space with no way out except a tuck and roll. This'll go great.

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    19 Apr 2026

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    The stranger from the stairwell stops beside a bank of linen cabinets and folds his arms loosely across his chest.
    No, not a stairwell stranger, Dennis reminds himself. His attending.
    He opens his mouth. “Dr. Robby—”
    “You are a fourth-year medical student on rotation in my department,” Dr. Robby cuts off, “and what happened in the stairwell this morning does not change that.”
    Dennis swallows.

    Dennis Whitaker didn't need fate to tell him he was meant to be a doctor. He just really wasn't expecting his new attending on his very last rotation of medical school to say the words inked around his bicep.

    Or, a slow burn soulmate-identifying marks AU.

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    13 Apr 2026