#I do hope you enjoy this silly doodle so far anyways

[randombon]

WIP: Meta Knight love!

Which TOTALLY isn't something I was supposed to make for his birthday, but time isn't my friend-

[bby-deerling]

Hi!!! Can I request Sanji and Kidd (separate) with a S/O who shows love by making things? For ex. She’d make bracelets or drawings as nothing that comes to mind honestly. If something makes her think of them she would whip it up in no time, she’s always had a knack for crafts! anyways your fics make my day, I love reading them sm! Hope you’re healthy!!

awee nonny, this is so cute! i threw in zoro too bc i looooove him or whatever, i hope that's okay!

one piece men & a s/o who makes them things

ft. zoro, sanji, kid || masterlist

zoro

he isn't very vocal when you give him a gift, but most of the time he simply is at a loss for words. zoro isn't the type to think much about gifts that people give him, but something handmade from you holds a special place in his heart, especially if creating art is related to your dream—to him, it shows dedication, a trait he really admires in you.

will wear any bracelets you give him until they inevitably fall apart from excessive wear and tear or getting accidentally sliced off in battle; at first he simply wears whatever you give him, but after a while he'll gruffly ask you to make the next one black and green.

he's terrible at expressing it, but he enjoys the drawings and paintings you make of him that range from full-fledged pieces to silly doodles. at first, you weren't sure if he was even keeping them, until you find a stack of them at the bottom of his drawer, kept neatly out of harm's way.

sanji

fawns and coos over every scrap of paper and gift you make for him; he loves to show your accomplishments off and brag to anyone who will listen and can't help but ramble on about how talented his lover is with all things crafty.

will wear any piece of jewelry, even if it makes him look absolutely silly. one time you turned a neat looking shell you found on the beach together into a necklace that was far too clunky and large to look good, but he wore it to death anyways, getting emotional every so often as he recalls the memory.

when you redraw his first wanted poster, creating something that both you and he feels is more accurate to his likeness, he falls to a heap on the ground and cries in happiness. the way you capture him, mixed with the care you put into each stroke of your colored pencils melts him into a puddle of lovestruck goo.

kid

one-upping each other with handmade gifts is a not-so-silent competition between you two. he deeply loves and appreciates all of your gifts, in his own clumsy, brutish way, but he can't help but want to return every present you give him with something better.

though he is resolved to knock your socks off and "win" the never-ending competition between you, he also takes it upon himself to help you take your own projects to the next level, even if it sometimes spoils the surprise for him. he teaches you basic metalworking and wire-wrapping to make your handmade jewelry more professional, and has no problem doing some plundering to get his hands on some rare stones for you to use.

some of his favorite times are spent tinkering in his workshop, with him working on a large-scale mechanical engineering project while you diligently make your crafts alongside him. though most of the time you have to yell over to each other to overpower the hum of machinery, spending time hanging out and chatting with you while you both create something worthwhile means the world to him.

[kaihuntrr]

The Sea Prince; Betas and Sketches!

Hello! been a bit since ive done a sketch dump, but it isnt just a sketch dump, it's an announcement!

As @mewhoismyself and I work on the fic, we need an active set of beta readers! The two we have our wonderful, but to keep with the schedule, we need some extra hands and fresh eyes!

Hence, beta readers are once again open!

I am looking for two betas who are experienced in writing, and who are active to give their insights and feedback! currently, i am writing chapter 17, but while i do that, i'd need the feedback as soon as i can get it so i can prepare it for the chapter release dates. shoot a comment down below so i can check your account!

anyway, here's some doodles <3

ONE OF THESE IMAGES BELOW HAVE BLOOD. I AM WARNING YOU NOW.

first off, here's a joke made by a friend :> martyn is scott's babygirl, boom, its canon-

starting off, here's some silhouettes for the other princes ;D I can't reveal them, otherwise the surprise would be ruined! they're all based on different sea creatures, but they are just as scary as Prince Pearl and Prince Chromia. theres other designs i have to get to, but this is a sneak peak of the other terrors lurking in the dark.

speaking of, I got a fun doodle of em <3 the good thing about eating underwater is that they won't get all messy, but there are those times where an audience might watch them eat, they're messy eaters!

these two are pretty, but i really wanted to push their freakier, scarier sea prince sides! more slight changes, but they're both quite fun to draw! their contrasting designs are so much fun to draw together, i love these sillies! oh- and here's a bloodless version!

i absolutely LOVE my sea prince designs, scott and pearl just itch me the right way.

and before i pop off, here's some concept designs for joey and sausage, along with fwhip and gem! since gem is officially a lifer, i think her role in the story might be a bit more focused on, who knows!

wanted to make sure sausage didn't look like his pirates look :0c this au was originally before pirates smp, so i wanted to differentiate them somehow, so i pulled a lot from their empires' attire and see what works! what do you think?

finally, we have the cover art board! im planning to put this all in my pinned post the moment all the covers drop, but goodness, those eyes sure are pretty!

what do you think of the au so far? enjoying it? i hope you are! this au is such a blast <3

[cherryxsapphic]

So, I have a request! (If you don’t like this request idea, you don’t have to write it!)

Marilyn x fem!(can be a student or a teacher)reader, where Marilyn is extremely overprotective over reader. R is used to her pritective nature, but it sometimes goes a bit too far, when Marilyn won’t let r hangout w her friends or go out in a certain outfit. Or when someone tries to hit on r, she would immediately come over and wrap her hand around r’s waist.

So basically just overprotective Marilyn, maybe some angst! You can choose how it goes!

Take your time <3

This is for the lovely @m1lflov3rrr I am dreadfully sorry that it took me literal months to even put this out, but I do hope you enjoy!!🍒

Also a special thanks to my pookie bear @h-doodles for helping me with this, I couldn't have done this without you!! 🥰

You were sitting down peacefully in the quad by yourself. Sandwich in hand as you jam out to some music blaring through your earbuds, bobbing your head slightly to the rhythm when you suddenly feel a sharp fingernail aggressively tapping your right shoulder. You jumped slightly at the sudden interruption, whipping your head towards the person in question, setting them with an annoyed look only to soften when you realized it was just Enid, Enid Sinclair, the local colorful werewolf. You take a moment to pause your music and pull out your earbuds, setting them down gently on the table alongside your forgotten sandwich. Spinning your body around the school bench, finally giving the very excited wolf your full attention, looking up at her from your seated position, you give her a sheepish smile before speaking.

“Sorry, Enid! I was so caught up in my music that I didn’t notice you there!”  

"I know, silly! You've been hard to see around these past few weeks, so I just HAD to come over."

"I got busy…" You fight to keep your blush down as you think of what, or more accurately, who exactly got you busy. "My schoolwork has been slipping, so I asked a few teachers for extra work." You say, to cover it up.

Enid nods, understanding. Being a student with academic achievements, she often saw you poring over textbooks in the library OR trailing after your teachers for extra lessons during your free time, orders from your strict parents who monitored your progress over your head. “Well,” she starts, clasping her hands together. “Me and the girls have missed you a lot, so I wondered if you were free tonight?”

Guilt seeps into your bones when you hear the hope in her tone. You have been neglecting your friends and a dark whisper inside your brain–

“I suppose I’ve pestered our teachers enough, and I just finished passing the latest exam, so… I guess I'm free." 

“Yayyy!!!” Enid does a little happy dance before lifting you for a hug. You shouldn’t be surprised by the excitable werewolf’s strength, but you gasp a bit anyway. “We’re going to a party in the woods tonight; you HAVE to come!" 

When she finally puts you down, you sigh and shake your head. “The woods? Enid, you know Weems banned us from going there, right?”

“Don’t worry; the party is located somewhere TOTALLY safe—”

“Hey, girlies!” you stifle a scream when a cold hand suddenly touches your back. “Finally caught us a live one, huh?”

“Haha, hilarious, Tanaka.” your tone dripping with sarcasm as you turn around to give the vampire a playful slap on the hand.

“Don’t start. You’re going to the party, and I’m going to your dorm later to ensure you’re dressed right.”

“I haven’t said yes yet!”

And here you are in your dorm room, contemplating your life choices before sighing, putting on something comfortable, and grabbing your comfort jacket that belongs to Marilyn. You put the coat to your nose and breathe in her wavering scent, wishing you were with her instead of going to this stupid forest party. Falling on your bed, you bend over clumsily, grabbing your shoes off the ground and putting them on as you were just finishing tying your shoes—

Yoko and the FUCKING Scooby gang burst into your room like a pile of rats searching for cheese. 

“Girliepop, you’re not wearing THAT to the party, right?” Yoko asked, looking you up and down.

While holding Mari's jacket, you looked down at your black jeans, red Converse, and a favorite baggy shirt. Then back to Yoko, who opened your closet and rifled through your clothes while Enid talked animatedly to a sulking Wednesday.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?”

Yoko pointedly looks at you and pulls out a short, skimpy dress. You blush as you remember Marilyn telling you it was a dress for her eyes only and that you would never wear it out. “You’re simply holding out on us, omg.”

"Yeah, the party's in the woods, so that's a hard NO on wearing that one!"

"Oh come on, what's the point of having that snack of a body if you aren't gonna use the right wrappers?"

"Listen, my tits spill out in one move in that one, and I'd rather die than return it to the store because of anxiety, so you can just. Pick another one… please?"

Yoko pouts but acquiesces to your pleading. Flipping through some more, she finds a similar-looking skimpy dress, but a little longer than you were confident you'd make out with your dignity half-intact.

"Here."

"Oooh!" Enid moves over, done pestering Wednesday for the moment, and oohs and ahs over the dress before starting again. "Pair it with the heeled boots, and wear tights if you're concerned about the cold."

"I mean. I'm bringing along this jacket, but why heeled boots—”

“Because we said so. Now hop to it.”

Throwing your hands up, you take the new outfit and walk to your bathroom to change. 

The party in the woods was in full swing, the rhythmic beat of music mingling with the laughter and chatter of the gathered crowd. Strings of fairy lights adorned the trees, casting a warm, enchanting glow over the makeshift dance floor. Enid, the excitable werewolf, led the charge in festivities, dragging you into the heart of the celebration.

As the night unfolded, the atmosphere grew electric, the energy contagious. You found yourself dancing with newfound friends, the pulsating music drowning out any lingering doubts. However, the borrowed outfit — a compromise between your comfort and the party's expectations — seemed to attract more attention than you anticipated.

Yoko, the lively vampire, strutted over, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Girl, you're the life of the party! Everyone's talking about that dress!"

You blushed, feeling both flattered and self-conscious. The beats throbbed louder, urging you to lose yourself in the music, and you obliged, dancing away the concerns that nagged at the edges of your mind.

But as the night wore on, a discordant note disrupted the harmony. The distant growls of the creature you encountered earlier echoed through the trees, casting a shadow over the revelry. The carefree atmosphere shifted, and hushed whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire.

Enid, always exuberant, tried to downplay the unease. "Guys, it's probably just some forest critter. Don't let it ruin the party!"

Yet, the anxiety lingered, and a subtle tension threaded its way through the crowd. The music played on, but the once carefree dancing took on a more cautious rhythm.

Suddenly, the distant growls escalated into a deafening roar, and panic rippled through the partygoers. People scattered in all directions, the fairy lights casting eerie shadows as they dashed for cover.

Enid grabbed your arm, eyes wide with fear. "We need to get back to the school—now!"

Chaos ensued as the revelry devolved into a frenzied scramble. The once lively dance floor transformed into a chaotic scene of stumbling figures, their laughter replaced by shouts of panic.

As you ran back toward the safety of Nevermore, you couldn't shake the feeling that the creature's pursuit was closing in. The enchanted woods, once a backdrop for joyous gatherings, now harbored an ominous threat.

The party had taken a turn no one expected, leaving a trail of chaos in its wake. In the midst of the pandemonium, you yearned for the familiar embrace of Marilyn's jacket, a reminder of comfort amid the unforeseen disaster that had unfolded in the enchanted night.

‘I’m going to die. I’m going to fucking die, and it’s MY fault.’ I scream inside my head while I dart left and right through the trees. Protip: do not wear heels when going into the woods. Scratch that. Trust no one except Mari. Everyone is dumb EXCEPT Mari, especially when they say the woods are safe, there is NO monster, and you’re going to have SUCH a good time.

I could’ve enjoyed a nice cuddling session with Mari if I just stayed in bed and waited for her like usual, but no. I had to let myself get guilted and dragged to this party in these stupid heels and dress, and now I’m being chased by a BEAST, and I don’t even have my phone to give Mommy my goodbyes!’ 

The monster roars somewhere closer behind me, and I feel like I will have a HEART ATTACK! But I'll be fine once I get to the school, and look, there's the Hogwarts-looking building right there. So I just keep running. Thinking I'll be okay, my dumbass trips over a branch, and suddenly, I just want to give up. I feel like those dumb girls in those low-budget horror films.

As you scramble to your feet, panic gripping you like a vice, you hear the menacing growls of the pursuing creature drawing near. Adrenaline courses through your veins as you sprint toward the safety of the school building, your heels abandoned in the unforgiving underbrush.

The imposing silhouette of Nevermore looms ahead, a beacon of hope in the darkness. The monster's roars reverberate through the trees, pushing you to run faster, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Just when you think the creature is on the verge of catching you, the school's entrance comes into view. You burst through the doors, heart pounding, and slam them shut behind you, momentarily cutting off the creature's menacing sounds.

Safe within the confines of the school, you lean against the door, catching your breath. The echo of your heartbeats seems to drown out the lingering fear. The school hallway stretches before you, the familiar surroundings offering a stark contrast to the perilous adventure you just survived.

As you compose yourself, you realize that the night took an unexpected turn, and your friends might not have been entirely truthful about the safety of the woods. Thoughts of Marilyn flood your mind, and a profound longing for the comfort of her presence washes over you.

You decide to retreat to the quietude of your dorm room, shedding the borrowed outfit and slipping into the familiar warmth of Marilyn's jacket. The scent provides solace, grounding you in the reality that, despite the night's chaos, you are safe within the walls of Nevermore.

Reflecting on the events, you vow to prioritize your own well-being and not succumb to peer pressure. As you drift into a contemplative state, you can't help but yearn for the simplicity of sharing a peaceful moment with Marilyn, free from the chaos that lurks beyond the safety of Nevermore's embrace. 

To be continued…

Sorry for the lack of Marilyn in this chapter but don't worry there will be more in part 2, if y'all want a part 2 you that is?? 🤭

Tags: @s1nful-sa1nt @sssappling2004 @marilynthornhill @proton-selfships @philip-15 @luucyyyy (and anyone else who wants to be tagged ♡)

[gunophilia]

Hello, before I get too far into it, I'm just going to give my main point right away:

I get it.

Writing is hard. Art in general is hard, but in my experience, finding the motivation to continue a story is one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. Trying to find the words to explain it is difficult, ironically, how do you really explain the overwhelming want to do only to loss all motivation the second you actually try? It's not that I don't want to write, I absolutely do, and I have all these stories and plots and ideas inside my head but the second I try and put pen to paper it feels impossible.

I guess I'll compare it to something else, albeit in a similar field. When I was younger, I loved to dry. Every moment of freetime I got in elementary school was dedicated to doodling all over my worksheets and notebook paper. And I was terrible at it, absolutely horrendous, but the best part was that I didn't care. I liked drawing, it never mattered to me how good it was. Until someday it did, and I realized that my skill level didn't match my standards, so I stopped. And every time afterward, when I would draw, no matter if it was a doodle in the corner or I tried to sit down and focus, I always gave up because it felt pointless. I'd lost my motivation, and so I gave up for years and I felt disappointed in myself. The same sort of thing happened with writing, one day I realized I wasn't happy with what I was doing because it felt armature.

At some point, about almost a year ago, I decided completely out of the blue that I wanted to try drawing again, so I bought a tablet to make sure I had to commit and couldn't give up like all the other times, I had a sit down with myself, and I asked this question:

What do I want out of my art?

And the answer was simple, to just enjoy doing it. So that was my goal, not to get better, but to just rediscover the joy thay drawing brought me. It definitely took a while, until I was able to look at other pieces of artwork and see things I liked and wanted to do myself rather than to compare myself to them. After a while I was drawing for myself, just to have fun, and I didn't care if it was good or skillful, all that was important was that I liked it and that was enough.

I still struggle with writing, I have a storyline that I want to follow but it's still just so hard to find the motivation, and I've decided that yes, one day it is going to happen, but it doesn't need to be today, so even just writing a silly little side story or even just a couple sentences of notes is enough for now, because it's still something.

Anyways this got away from me and I think the message for lost, so I guess I'll just put it plainly here, art is hard, and even if you love doing it that sometimes actually doing it seems impossible, especially if you feel like it's something you have to do over wanting to do it.

Sorry for the essay, but I'm feeling sappy tonight and a post of yours reminded me of my own journey.

I hope this was helpful, and if not, then I'm so sorry and please feel absolutely free to ignore this.

Have a good one, and I hope writing is something you can enjoy doing just for the sake of doing it. <3

are you me from an alternate universe? (jk) your story is very similar to what I've been going through. sometimes I get a spark of inspiration, but that by itself is not enough to get me to actually sit down and do the work. I sit down, realize how much time/effort will need to be put in, and give up before I start. it really sucks. i feel like i cant/shouldn't work on anything unless it can be finished in one sitting.

[kittysimp-daycareauart]

My Sun doodles are finished! I like how this turned out! I think I did a good job with Sun holding the barrel; hands can be so tricky! Like I did with the Moon doodle, I used Clip Studio Paint for this. I’ve only been using doodle mode so far, but I’m really liking it so far! I’m excited to explore more of what this app can do. ^ ^

Anyways, moving from sounding like an ad sponsor (which it’s not), I’ll tell you a silly, and probably a relatable, story that happened today, because why not? I’m mean, you’re sitting here reading it anyways. So, today I got up from out of bed and immediately tried focusing on getting the doodles of our favorite sunny boi finished, since I had fell asleep in my bed laying on my drawing tablet listening to GTLive the night prior, lol. So, I got up, went to go get something quick to eat and started to try to get to work. I guess today just was not a good day for me to focus because I swear I got distracted about million times before I finished this! After I finally decided to move away from YouTube shorts and put on a GTLive video for background noise, I realized my apple pencil was gone. My first thought was along the lines of, “It’s either on my bed somewhere or oh shit, it’s under my bed.” Now I need to say, I haven’t actually cleaned under my bed since last summer, so who knows what’s under there! And I’m deathly afraid of spiders, and it’s getting to be spring again and I know there’s got to be some spiders under this bed. And I was right, there were. Now I can personally live with a spider under my bed, as long as I have no idea it’s actually there. But when I saw this mother trucker, I was like, nah, I’m getting the broom. And of course when I did that, I did find my apple pencil down there, thankfully with no spiders attached. But I know that I’m either gonna have a hard time sleeping tonight, or something is gonna distract me enough to where I forget before I fall asleep. I’m hoping latter personally. I’ve certainly learned to keep a better eye on my apple pencil now! I wouldn’t want to have to replace it since I’ve seen the prices on them.. Too much.

Well, moving on from the mini story! I hope you enjoyed the art and silly story that came with it. ^ ^ I’m not sure what I’ll post next really.. Probably some random art stuff and then most likely do some doodles of my AU’s Eclipse then Blood Moon. I don’t why, but sometimes when I do pieces like these I feel like have to do one of each character. So it’ll probably end up being something like that. =w=

[candyredappledragon]

YOUR ALIVE- YOOOOOOOO

// I used to read this blog SO much before i had a tumblr account- I was so sad when i saw that you just- stopped posting :(

// I was SO invested in your plot lines and genuinely? i was always excited to see your little doodles, They always seemed to have a life to them i wanted to try and replicate one day to 'em.

//Anyway, I cannot wait to see how far you go now that your back and i hope you've had a good break!

// 🥹🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭😭

WAHHH THIS IS LIKE SO SWEET OF YOU AND I'M SO HONOURED YOU ENJOYED MY WORLD BUILDING AND SILLY DOODLES..

I do apologize for just stopping out of the blue. I hit a roadblock and had to deal with things. But now I'm better and happier!! ^^

Thank youuu so muchhh. [ is sobbing on the ground ]

[call-me-double-trouble]

Old Art

Hi, all! To celebrate my 1-year anniversary of this blog, I decided it’d be fun to show some of my first, never-before-seen drawings of Double Trouble. All of these are traditional, as I hadn’t gone digital yet. Some are also unfinished, and many were sketches at work that weren’t really meant to be “good,” just something to entertain me when I didn’t have any tasks to do.

I’m going to poke fun at some of them, as I’ve improved a lot since drawing them, but I'm not trying to encourage artists to be overly-critical of their past works. Recognizing your mistakes and flaws in your old work only shows how far you’ve come, and I just want to have a good giggle about how silly some of my old sketches look.

Art under the cut because this list goes on for awhile

Here’s the first drawing of DT I remember doing:

I used a reference for this one, hence why it looks better than some of my later entries in this post. Unfortunately, it suffers from Long Head Syndrome, a mistake I still often make with traditional art because at the angle I’m seeing it while I’m drawing, it looks perfectly fine. But then you hold it at eye-level, and uh...

Also, what the heck kinda hairline did I give them? It’s like it meets at a point, but not in the middle of their head.

Next up, these two:

Will the Long Head Syndrome ever cease??? As you can tell, I liked the sketch I did at work, so I traced it onto watercolor paper, made a couple changes, and painted it. This one’s not too bad, though it does look like their eyebrows missed the memo as to what angle their head was at.

This next one may be the worst:

Like...WTF is that? What is that hair poof? Why is one eye so much smaller than the other? What’s going on with that mouth? This is why references are important, kids.

With this next one, I got bored and wanted to color DT in with Sharpies:

So bright! My eyes! The hair poof is too small, but at least it’s not wiggly like the last one. Also, here’s a magnifying glass to help you see those tiiiny eyebrows.

Here’s another I did with fine line markers that I keep on my wall like a sticker:

I messed up on the smile, so I made it a frown. Now their eyebrows are too big, and so is that one ear. (Also, my walls aren’t that bright in real life, they just showed up that way on camera.)

Next up is--

Oh.

WHAT IS THAT

And next we have one of my favorites!

The little menace themselves, cute-ified. (We don’t talk about hairlines, no, no, no~)

And here we have one I turned into a digital drawing, but you may notice...

the ears are too fucking small. DT went from rulers on the side of their head to kid-sized ice cream cones. A real downgrade.

This one’s an unfinished (and will never be finished) drawing:

What even ARE those hands. Ok, yes, they were guides for drawing in fingers later, but...ew.

Here’s the first full-body, colored drawing of DT I ever did.

I had drawn them meeting a character from the book I’m writing, hence the speech bubble, but cropped that character out because spoilers! Anyway, this drawing was done with several references and looks much better than some of the others on this list. The main issue is that they’re standing at an angle. Why are they slanted??? Why can’t I draw a straight line??? *sees ace pride flag* Oh yeah, that’s why.

And lastly, here’s the first time I used the DT doll base from @sheblah​ :

Since this was before I had my iPad, I had to trace the doll base to use it, though I decided to draw the face myself. Oh, asymmetrical eyes, how I loathe thee.

Well, that’s all of the old traditional drawings of DT I have! As you can see, I’ve come a long way since then, but it’s always fun to look back and see where you’ve come from. I hope you enjoyed these silly doodles!

[saijspellhart]

Thank You!

Chained to You has surpassed 1k kudos on AO3 and I’m just speechless. Wow guys. Just wow. It made me cry. Happy tears of course. I honestly never expected this story to surpass 1000 kudos.

It was just a silly story I started for me, to combat my depression at the time. A silly story with horror themes and tropes cause I love horror, also tons of domestic fluff and care because that’s what I needed. This fic that barely has a plot because I don’t write plot heavy stories. I write character pieces, explorations of character personality, development of romance and emotions. But you guys seem to enjoy it anyway, and gosh do I appreciate that.

Thanks for sticking with the story so far, and I hope you continue to enjoy it. This is the slowest burn I’ve ever written, omg. I just need these two to kiss in the story already. Please bois, just kiss.

Anyway, to express my gratitude, please have this doodle of chibi puzzle bois sharing a smooch.

[ambertea]

clever

Read on AO3

She’s six years old and she’s just won a certificate for Maths.

Her mum’s sitting at the back of the assembly, exchanging whispers to the single dad sitting next to her. Rose keeps looking back, trying to catch her eye, but instead watches her mother’s hand sneaking up a strange man’s thigh.

The headmaster smiles at her strangely, in a way she will later define as ‘condescending’ but in the moment she can’t wrap her head around.

“Well done, you clever girl.” He says, and Rose hates it. His clammy hand engulfs hers and Rose just blinks as he shakes it up and down.

The school claps dutifully and her mum is still not looking at her.

She’s eleven years old and she hates everyone in her class. They tease her in the playground, mock her in the classroom and the only safe haven is the tiny library. The librarian is old and odd, and she strokes Rose’s hair like she’s nothing more than a tiny doll.

“Don’t try so hard to be clever,” she tells her. “They’ll leave you alone.”

Rose leaves the library and never comes back.

She’s fifteen years old and GCSEs are utter bullocks. Mickey has already failed them all, already told her they don’t matter in the real world. She stays behind after school to sit in empty classrooms to figure out algebra and tells her mum she still does gymnastics.

She gets her results in a thick brown envelope and takes a quick glance at a long list of A’s before she chucks it in the bin.

“Pure shit.” She tells her mum. “Didn’t even try, anyway. I’m just not clever enough.”

Her mum throws her a party regardless, and Rose ignores the ache in her chest.

She’s seventeen and he’s fucking hot.

She’s told her mum she’s doing A-levels because she hasn’t figured out if she wants to do hairdressing or childcare. Instead, she doodles equations on the back of English papers whilst she waits for everyone else to finish.

She meets Jimmy outside the school gates and he’s smoking cigarettes and the smell gets right into the back of her throat. She tells him that it’s bad for him, and he tells her he could be bad for her. He’s right.

She drops out of school and her mother approves because it was giving her airs and graces. What her mother does not approve of is the filthy bedsit she moves into, where she cries as her boyfriend screams at her.

“You think you’re clever, do you?” he yells, and she shakes her head and whispers no, no, never.

She’s nineteen, fucking shop window dummies are after her, and a strange man is standing with her in the lift.

“’Cos to get that many people dressed up and being silly, they got to be students.”

“Good point. Well done.”

She’s wrong, but the praise bounces around her brain.

She runs off with him because apparently, that’s just what she does. Runs off with charismatic men, leaves her mother worried sick, because she is Rose, and Rose is not clever.

This man, however, is no Jimmy. He’s smart – so smart, any small attempts at intelligence still leave her feeling dumb. This is a comfort. She argues with him, thinks around him, and starts to feel a bit better about herself.

He’s sweet as well, and kind, and doesn't care when she asks too many questions. He shows her how to strip wires and repair parts of his precious ship, and they tinker away together in comfortable silences. Now and then, she properly impresses him, and he ignores the beauties of the universe and beams at her instead. It’s strange and wonderful and she tries her best not to disappoint him.

Then she is sent away, he is trapped, and it’s time for her to use her bloody brains only she’s not sure they even work anymore. He is dying, far in the future, but still dying, and she is watching her mum scoff down chips. She doesn’t want to go back to her old life, doesn’t want to play stupid anymore.

“Why, because you’re better than us?”

No, because she has learned what life is like when she tries, and she is not yet ready to stop.

She makes it back, using her brain and a fucking massive truck, and it is worth it if just for the way he is looking at her. He tells her she is fantastic and then explodes into a whole new man, with a lankier frame and wilder hair. He takes a long nap, and she is left to be useless once more.

She stands up in front of actual, breathing monsters and tries to copy words she’s heard, but her voice shakes, and her hands are trembling. They laugh at her, and she is eleven again, being teased by the nasty girls in her class.

He saves the day, because that’s just what he does, and she runs off with him again because his smile is still kind and their hands fit nicely. Cassandra sits inside her brain and hums with curiosity, poking around her mind like it’s a mildly interesting boutique.

“Not as thick as you seem, are you?” She whispers into Rose’s mind.

She’s inside some sort of spaceship and he is gushing over the accomplishments of Reinette de Pompadour. She already knows all this, knows who she is, but he is enjoying the sound of his own voice, so she keeps quiet.

She watches him carefully, notices the lipstick marks around his face and the ridiculous angle of his collar, and stamps down the familiar feelings of jealousy rising within her chest.

It had felt like they were growing closer. Their hugs had been lingering, hands held tightly at any available moment. She had thought something was growing, something small and precious and good. Clearly, she was wrong.

Reinette dies, and Rose isn’t glad, not really, but she watches him carefully afterward and wonders. Wonders why he keeps her around if he even wants her there. She tries to ask, but the words die on her tongue.

She has almost let the feeling go when she meets her father, a man who does not know her and apparently does not care to. She calls him dad and he runs, leaving her crying and shaking and so very vulnerable. She wonders, afterward, why. Why no one has ever wanted her properly, why it feels like no one has even met her in the first place. She sobs into her mum’s shoulder and wishes she had told her about the GCSE results.

Maybe it’s a good thing, she thinks later, that she’s alone. She has no real connections that make her want to stay at home, no real relationships that don’t leave her mentally exhausted. He is her grounding point, her focus, and he doesn’t think she’s stupid, not really, but he doesn’t think she’s clever either.

She knows she loves him; knows she will spend the rest of her life pining for him. It aches, having so much unspent emotion coursing under her skin. Feels like she could explode and implode simultaneously. But his eyes are so soft, and he is so worth it.

“We’ll always be alright, me and you.” She tells him. He just stares into the sky glumly.

“There’s a storm approaching.”

She hopes for a bit of rain but instead gets a fucking earthquake.

She’s twenty-one, she’s in a different universe, and she’s absolutely fine.

“How are you doing?”

“Are you okay?”

“Speak to me, Rose, please.”

She doesn’t speak to anyone. Doesn’t even look in the mirror.

It’s hard to assign blame on a talking pepper pot, so instead, she blames herself. If she’d been stronger. Tried harder. Been cleverer.

She tells her mum this over a bottle of wine, and she just laughs.

“People like us aren’t clever, Rose. We’re survivors.”

She doesn’t want to be a survivor anymore.

She starts working at Torchwood. Starts sleeping at Torchwood as well. Pete gives her the job out of pity but is quickly astonished by the scale of the work she’s doing.

“You’re brilliant.” He tells her one night. Jackie scoffs.

“Brilliant? Hark at her.”

Rose ignores her. It doesn’t matter.

She sits through A-levels, and then university lectures, and then physics conventions with groups of boring boys who follow her like a bizarre squadron. She has a brother now, a tiny boy with eyes just like hers, and when she tucks him into bed, she whispers stories of the stars.

She creates a dimension cannon and brings it home to show Pete. He marvels over it whilst Jackie sniffs like she’s got a nasty cold.

“Just glorified jewelry. Face it, sweetheart. You’re stuck here with the rest of us. It’s time to get used to it.”

“Shut up,” Rose says, and she can feel her pulse banging away in her ears like a marching parade.

Jackie is spluttering, Pete’s eyes are wide, and Rose isn’t quite sure what she’s doing but she’s doing it anyway.

“I can do this. I am going to do this. So just shut up.”

She does do it. She flits around universes like students backpack around Europe, and it’s strangely healing to spend so much time by herself.

She meets tiny aliens made of glass who kiss through the refractions of light and hugs ginormous bear-like creatures who are surprisingly friendly and incredibly soft.

She searches for him, and it hurts and it’s hard but it’s also fantastic.

She gets through finally to a universe that should be right but is oh so very wrong. A red-haired woman screams at her, and Rose is finding it difficult to breathe.

“I'm nothing special. I'm a temp. I'm not even that. I'm nothing.”

“Donna Noble, you are the most important woman in the whole of creation!”

“Oh, don't. Just don't.”

She tells her mum about her GCSE results because she can’t stop thinking about it. Her mum stares at her for a long while and then looks down at her hands. Rose has never seen her mum speechless before, doesn’t like it, so she just nods and leaves.

She finds him, and the feeling rushes right from her toes to the top of her head. She has done it. After all the effort and pain, she has found him, and the uncurling pride is like nothing she’s ever felt before.

He gets shot and utterly ruins it, but the feeling lingers.

Her mum shows up at the worst possible time, but she is there, and she is looking at Rose so fiercely. When the situation calms down and they are safe, she pulls Rose into a tight hug and rubs her hands in circles across the small of her back.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” She whispers, and Rose quickly wipes her eyes on her shoulders.

She is dumped on the same beach she has had nightmares about for the last five years. She is left again, but this time she is left with a familiar man who whispers promises into her ear and holds her like she is something important.

He is looking at her like he’s hoping she might lead the way, and she knows how to do this now, knows how to think and plan and strategize. She kisses him on the cheek, watches the blush that spreads across his cheek, takes his hand, and leads him back to England.

She doesn’t take him straight back to the mansion, hates the idea of speech and silence in equal measure. Instead, she takes him to her lab, and he stares at her designs through startled eyes and stolen glasses. She fidgets in the corner of the room, and wraps her arms around her waist, waiting for his verdict.

He turns to her, whips the glasses off of his face and a look of quiet wonder spreads across his face.

“You’re brilliant.”

She squirms under his gaze, picks off an invisible bit of fluff from her jacket. He is still looking at her, and she tries her best to smile.

“Thanks.”

“No, seriously. These are so impressive.”

She’s still not sure what to do with the praise, but it warms her and fills all the cracked pieces of her soul with new and growing tissue. She kisses him, both because she’s not sure what else to do, and because she can, and he smiles against her lips. They break apart and he runs his fingers over her work, his eyes soft and curious.

“How did you do this?” He whispers, and something tender and precious burns gently in her chest.

“I guess I’m just clever.”

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 3

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,587

Warnings: none

A/N: I wanted to give Reader a family and this is the easiest way to do it. Btw Peggy’s husband isn’t Steve, I have other plans for him ;) Enjoy!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

The rest of the week went by, and you kept hoping Bucky would come back. You hadn’t seen him since he’d left 300 dollars under his napkin after visiting you at work. You had tucked the bills into your bra, knowing they would be safe there, and walked home at the end of your shift.

Now it was Thursday afternoon and you were craving a day off.

Natasha’s apartment was spacious and the oversized glass window bathed the living room in natural sunlight. The apartment was a gift from Sam. Obviously.

You dropped your purse on the sofa –your bed- and laid out the bills on the coffee table. It was made of marble and brass, another gift from Sam.

You didn’t know what to do with the money, so you took it wherever you went, to keep it safe. You wanted to return it to Bucky. It was too much and you weren’t used to random acts of kindness.

You sunk into the cushion and blew out a sigh as you stared at the money. The persistent vibration of your phone against your thigh pulled you out of your thoughts. Half expecting it to be Natasha, you answered without looking at the caller ID.

The operator told you that Scott Lang was calling from Saint Quentin State Prison, and asked if you would accept the charges. You agreed. You always agreed.

“Splotchy, I need your help.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the cushion. “I told you to stop calling me that, Scott.”

It was a silly nickname.

As a child, your mother dubbed you splotchy because of the colourful doodles you painted on the living room walls, and your siblings, who were roughly a few years older than you, had loved using that nickname. Especially since they knew you disliked it.

Their support and endless enthusiasm played a big part in your artistic journey, nurturing that spark into a flame. What started out as a childlike fascination with colours and shapes became your whole life. No one was surprised when you decided to pursue a degree in fine arts.

After the death of her husband, Peggy Carter adopted five children; a little boy from San Francisco, a little girl from Wakanda, twins from Sokovia and a little girl whose birth parents were still in high school. You were the last one, the only one she adopted as a baby.

“Is it offensive to call an artist splotchy?”

“It’s irrelevant. I haven’t painted in months,” you replied. “And we’re not kids anymore, you can use my name.”

“I’ve been calling you Splotchy for so long, I forgot your actual name.”

“You’re so funny,” you deadpanned. “What do you need, Scott?”

Scott’s tone changed suddenly, his voice grew agitated. “I need you to call Maggie. She isn’t picking up when I call her.”

“Scott,” you sighed.

“I haven’t talked to Cassie since her birthday,” he cut you off, pleading. “Please, I just want to talk to my little girl.”

Maggie was Scott’s ex-wife. Six months after his incarceration, she had filed for divorce. Natasha thought it was a real dick move but you didn’t blame Maggie. She was alone, her husband was in jail –for basically being a dumbass although the official charge was embezzlement and destruction of property- and she had a kid to raise.

Maggie wasn’t a saint but she was a good mother, and Cassie was a smart and healthy kid. Now you knew what to do with Bucky’s money.

“I’ll call her,” you said. “Listen, I’m going to put 50 bucks on your book. Buy yourself a bar of soap, I can smell you from here.” Scott interrupted you with a monotone ‘har har’. You chuckled. “I’ll buy Cassie a Christmas gift on your behalf, all right? I think she wanted a bike.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted over the phone, his voice muffled as if he was holding the receiver too close to his mouth. “Are you sure you can afford it? I know it isn’t easy for you. Between living in New York and paying for mom’s nursing home, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting off the conversation. “I’m not alone, Okoye helps.”

“And Wanda?”

“She sends postcards from time to time.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “I want to get out of here so bad,” Scott groaned. “Everything’s gone to shit since I went to jail.”

“Everything’s gone to shit since Pietro died, Scott.” You both remained silent, remembering your late brother. Just thinking about him made your eyes start to prickle with tears, so you cleared your throat and ended the call. “I’ll talk to Maggie. You’ll be out soon, just... stay out of trouble. Love you.”

You left your phone on the table and kicked off your shoes before you lay down on the sofa for a well-deserved nap. In your dreams your brothers weren’t either dead or in prison, your mother hadn’t been diagnosed with Alzheimer, and you weren’t a burden to your friend.

If you were lucky enough, you wouldn’t even dream at all.

The next day, Bucky arrived at the hotel at six thirty and you playfully glared at him from across the lounge. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why you were glaring at him. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Just so you know, you bought yourself about 30 breakfasts,” you told him, referring to the far-too-generous tip he had left the other day.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a boyish cockiness that made him look stupidly attractive. You were too flustered to find a good comeback.

You brought him his cup of coffee and let him enjoy his breakfast while you attended to your other clients. It was an unusually busy day, the room was packed with families who were getting ready to explore Manhattan. You didn’t have time to chat with Bucky and he didn’t stay long. You saw him flinch a couple of times; the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his eyes darting left and right.

He left another ridiculously generous tip, along with a handwritten note. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day x.

Bucky came back the following week, and even though it was a quiet morning, you made sure to find him a table in a secluded spot. He didn’t notice when you slipped the 300 dollars into the pocket of his coat. You could be pretty sneaky, too.

“Mmmh,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I looked at your Instagram.”

“Oh,” you glanced at your shoes, embarrassed. “Wait, you’re on Instagram? I have a hard time imagining you scrolling through your feed.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll admit I’m not as tech savvy as you youngsters, but I’m not a fossil. I use it to look at the pictures my sister post of my niblings.”

“Cute,” you grinned.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I love your work. It’s very unique; a cross between Impressionism and Post-impressionism. It’s realistic, and yet there’s something different...” his face scrunched up as he tried to look for the right word. “There’s something in your paintings, something that isn’t here in real life but perhaps should be. It’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling, a color, a pattern; it’s indiscernible but it’s there.” He looked up at you, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

You blinked, suddenly stunned that someone had such strong opinions about your work. There was nothing but sincerity in his ocean-blue eyes, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“I, um-” you cleared your throat, “Thank you, I didn’t know that. I look up to Monet, obviously. His work is phenomenal, and I also have a soft spot for Van Gogh.” You ran a hand across your face. “Sorry, I’m a little emotional. The people who compliment my art are usually my siblings, and Nat.”

“And now me,” he said with a warm smile. “And soon a lot more people.”

Flustered, you bit your bottom lip. “That would be nice.”

Bucky nodded. He gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, trying to buy time. You watched him hesitate before he turned to you. “I noticed that your last post was from almost a year ago.”

“Yeah,” you said with a casual shrug. “I don’t really paint anymore. I’m too tired when I get home and supplies are expensive.”

“Of course,” he pursed his lips in thought. “Are you free this afternoon? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.”

You tried not to show your surprise but his words made the sleeping butterflies in your stomach crack an eye open, their interest piqued.

Was he asking you out? He’d come to your workplace every week since your brief ‘date’. He always gave you more-than-generous tips, and he listened to you with a combination of close attention and warmth that made you weak at the knees.

He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anyone but maybe he had changed his mind. Agh, down girl! He just wanted a friend.

You looked into his beautiful eyes, seeing a myriad of expressions cross his face before he smiled at you.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, angel.”

It was an honest lie, just hearing him call you angel felt like a punch to the stomach. The butterflies were dancing around, reborn, and chanting the word ‘date’.

“If you don’t like coffee, we can have tea, or ice cream,” he said, “anything as long as you can sit down with me.”

You snorted. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “This is my number. Pick a place and I’ll meet you there.”

After breakfast, you closed the restaurant and started cleaning the Lounge. You brought everything back to the kitchen, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then you put away the unopened miniature jams, butter and whatnot, and gathered the remaining patisseries and fresh fruits in a basket that you would later bring to the reception.

You worked mechanically. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting job you’d ever had.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. It was easy to let your mind wander into the cosy and dangerous territory of this being a real date.

You decided to go to the Australian coffee shop near Natasha’s apartment. It was popular but not as crowded as Starbucks, which suited you fine.

After your shift, you removed your uniform and changed into the spare set of clothes you kept in your locker for emergencies. Emergencies being an impromptu date or a night out with Nat. You dug around in your purse for your lipstick; the nice one, the Carter Red as your mother called it.

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips, staining them. You only wore it on special occasions, and you weren’t sure Bucky deserved your full red pout.

You walked to the café with a little pep in your step and a confident smile on your face. The freezing temperature didn’t matter, you were too giddy to care. It was a date, it had to be, why else would he ask you to meet for coffee?  

You smiled when you saw him through the coffee shop window. He was chatting with the waiter as the latter set two mugs on the table.

“Hi again!” You shrugged out of your jacket and took a seat.

“I hope you like hot chocolate. Carl, here, says it’s their best seller,” Bucky said, smiling kindly at the waiter.

“Enjoy, and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call me.”

You carefully wrapped your cold hands around your mug while you watched Carl walk away. A moment of silence rose between you. Bucky watched you with an unreadable expression, making you fidget in your seat.

“I’m glad you came,” he finally said.

“Me too. I’m a little surprised you asked.”

He looked down at his mug and smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have something to ask you.” He paused. “The night we met, you said you agreed to see me because being in a... financial relationship felt like the only solution to your problems.”

 Your smile faltered but he didn’t seem to notice. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fell so suddenly that it felt like carrying a ball of lead. They went back into hibernation.  

“If I had been a decent person and, I don’t know, bought you a drink, talked to you,” he paused, meeting your eyes. “Would you have been interested in this type of relationship? With me, I mean.”

You swallowed hard. “You want to be my sugar daddy.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You were slowly realizing that you had been wrong about his intentions. This wasn’t a date, it was a business afternoon tea.

He winced. “Do we really have to call it that? I was thinking mentorship. I can provide financial help, and in exchange you could be my friend.”

“I can be your friend for free,” you said, your throat tightening.

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “This way we’ll both get something out of it.”

You looked down at your hands, still wrapped around the mug, and pursed your lips in thought. You felt a sharp tingling sensation in your nose, a sign that you were about to cry. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, fighting against the flood that was coming.

You pushed all the emotion down and forced a smile to your face. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? I just took the subway, I’d like to wash my hands.”

Bucky watched you, momentarily stunned by your request. “Of course, take your time,” he quickly recovered.

“Thanks,” you croaked, pushing your chair back.

You picked up your bag and walked to the restroom, your legs feeling like cotton wool. You didn’t need to use the restroom, you had walked to the café, but you needed a moment alone to collect yourself.

A woman came out of the restroom, holding the door open for you. You picked up the pace and thanked her before closing the door behind you. You looked pretty sickly under the artificial light of the restroom. Your eyes were glassy with tears and your red lips were taunting you.

“Got your hopes up, uh?” You watched your lips move. A little humourless chuckle escaped you and you shook your head at your own idiocy.

You aggressively wiped the lipstick off your mouth with the back of your hand and sighed deeply as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Now you felt like an idiot.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He had been nothing but nice and kind, and perhaps you had mistaken his kindness for flirting. A naïve mistake. You had always been a little clueless when it came to men.

You ran your index fingers under your eyes to get rid of the makeup that had gathered there. It wasn’t the end of the world, you barely knew him anyway. It didn’t hurt any less, though.

Maybe it was time for you to do something out of character, to experience life no matter how crazy it seemed. You were dreading this conversation with Bucky, but you couldn’t hide in the restroom forever. With another sigh, you pushed yourself away from the sink and walked out of the restroom.

Part 4

[eclectic-feathers]

Hello! Here’s my submission for @50yearsofqueen’s event. Posted nearing midnight for the drama. It’s a Doctor Who crossover that doesn’t really have much to do with the franchise other than in concept. It’s a very complex show, but canon’s already constantly challenged so I might as well challenge it even more. Thanks to my partner @bananavarina who made the art for this chapter and other chapters to come. Special thanks to @anne-white-star for helping me with the concept. Hope y’all enjoy!

———————————————

Humans succumb rather easily to trickery. After all, an unfortunate amount of them lead such jaded lives to the point they gradually lose the ability of thinking outside the box. This particular box is all these humans have ever known, yet, still, it serves as a case study in the development of claustrophobia. It’s stuck moving at a steady pace in a singular direction: forward. No turning back, no jumping ahead. Worst of all, the box never takes you anywhere. You need gasoline for that and gasoline, as you may well know, is expensive.

And if you don’t prefer a cheaper alternative for transportation, you’re either very well off or there’s something terribly wrong with you.

Thus, when presented with a different box, a time-traveling, space-hopping one which happens to accommodate much bigger dimensions on the inside, humans are easily fooled into stepping right in, putting aside all reasonable caution.

It’s for this reason that The Doctor recruits folks aboard his TARDIS with relative ease. It’s an art form he has nearly mastered, effectively trapping starry-eyed wanderers under the guise of adventure into a lifetime’s worth of the terror they least expect upon boarding. This terror had plagued dozens of Earthlings whose narrow understanding of space and time rendered them rather clueless as to how they might defeat it. This entity was, as brave Jamie McCrimmon ever so rudely proclaimed, a threat less comprehensible than Cybermen. This threat was unwanted exposition.

(Which is more commonly referred to as rambling.)

Countless humans have fondly (and exasperatedly, as certified human, Tegan Jovanka may attest) listened to The Doctor ramble for hours on end. It was a familiar dynamic, one The Doctor found comfort in. Perhaps, most of his companions never truly understood what he would be rambling on about, but it was, and still is, part of their exchange. The Doctor finds joy in showing such excitement, such beauty and wonder, to his friends. In return, his friends put the fun in his travels and gawk, accordingly, to all that they witness.

The Doctor always expected his companions to marvel in the sights and let him ramble on and on from topic to topic. What he didn’t expect was for them to stop marveling and start rambling back.

-

“Your mama loved scarves. They were all she had managed to pack from home when she was taken here.”

Brian slipped on his rubber footwear, his feet secured by tiny pieces of braided cloth cut from a scarf threaded through unevenly punctured holes. Haru had called them flip flops although he wasn’t quite sure whether it was a name he’d invented to cheer him up when he was little (like when he used to call lightbulbs fireflies) or if it happened to be the effect of inherent human silliness, thus making it the correct term.

“This is your papa’s favorite pair of pants. Your mama doodled stars and planets on it for his birthday. He loved them as he loved her...you love them too, don’t you?”

He pulled the pants up and fastened it with a belt. It was rather long and baggy for a ten-year-old. Still, Brian tried to make it work, bunching up the cloth and standing as tall as he could. He wondered if his father was out there, unaware of the existence of a son, finally home among the stars drawn daintily across his trousers.

“We all had to wear long sleeved shirts back in the metropolis. I wore green. He wore white.”

Brian put one on accordingly. The sleeves flopped and swallowed his arms as the shirt engulfed his skinny frame.

“Your mama had sewn him a vest. He wasn’t particularly fond of vests but he was very fond of your mama.”

He put on the black vest

Little Brian stared at the mirror in front of him, unsure what to feel. He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, yet he wasn’t quite sure if it were right to mourn for something he’d never known.

“Bri?”

Brian looked up to find Haru standing at the doorway. His face was blank, yet a storm seemed to brew in his eyes. Perhaps, he was upset that the child he’d loved and raised as if he were his own was wearing the painful reminder of his friends long gone. Or, perhaps, he was disheartened that said child wasn’t satisfied enough with his care to stop yearning for his parents’ presence. Perhaps, he was neither of those. Perhaps, he was angry.

Brian hoped he was angry.

A moment of silence passed between them. Then another. Brian had read about moments like this in fictional Earthling books. He was steeling himself for those angry outbursts he always read about. Haru rarely got upset, yet Ian had never messed up this terribly before. So he braced himself…

Only to be engulfed in a bone crushing hug.

Brian quickly hugged Haru back as the latter trembled. He felt the pitter patter of tears falling on his shoulder and for the first time in his life, he felt the crushing weight of loss.

“You deserve to know your father,” Haru croaked as he regained his composure. Brian merely buried his face in his shoulder as he finally let his own tears flow.

“I already do, Dad.”

—————————-

“Doctor, your library’s collection of medical books is incomplete,” proclaimed Brian, a young man clad in white, signifying his status as an esteemed astronaut of Planet Rhye.

The Doctor gasped theatrically, startling Deacy, a man from 21st century Leicester, younger and less knowledgeable than Brian, yet seemingly much wiser. He’d been tinkering with a malfunctioning lever for about an hour now.

The Doctor merely smiled in apology to which Deacy responded with a fond shake of his head.

“Oh the TARDIS hasn’t been fixed yet?,” Brian inquired as he sank into a lavish red sofa situated in the console room.

“Not to my knowledge, no,” Deacy replied.

The Doctor laughed.

“Cheeky now, aren’t we?”

“Well, I deserve to be cheeky. After all it wasn’t me who busted the wiring in the butterfly room for a photoshoot.”

The Doctor scoffed as Brian let out a snort of his own.

“I’ll have you know, darling, that we’re perfectly safe and untarnished. I managed to avert the crisis by rearranging the wires before anyone could get hurt.”

“Did you, now?,” Deacy asked, his confusion evident.

“Of course I did!”

“Then how come the wires here are all mismatched and tangled up?”

A sudden silence swept across the room.

“Oh! You managed to rearrange them well enough for the TARDIS not to combust but they still weren’t in the correct order because based on the times we were on Itakam and the time we went to Roman occupied Greece, you’re no good at technical repairs,” Brian piped up, rather satisfied with himself. Deacy chuckled as The Doctor gaped at his lack of tact.

“Brian...do tell me about the library,” The Doctor muttered, as Deacy amusedly returned to his work.

“I’ve searched high and low in every single shelf of your library and found references to every single medical lung condition I’ve read of back home. They were all there...except for one.”

“Well, that’s silly, darling! The book dealer had been very sincere. I couldn’t have been tricked!”

“Perhaps, you’d simply been gullible?,” Roger suggested as he entered the room. He was exceptionally beautiful with no trace of wrinkles, pores, or even a philtrum. His skin was smooth as silk save for a pair of gills which rested on either side of his neck. He sat next to Brian and plopped his feet on the former’s lap. It was no secret that this Doctor, unlike the last two of his incarnations, was reserved around strangers. That being said, soaked up every last trace of physical affection from his friends like a sponge. Yet, even he chuckled at the display of such disregard for human manners.

Brian was human. However he’d been raised far from Earth, isolated from society with no one but Dad for company. Etiquette was unimportant in his little world and Dad hadn’t known enough about human custom to teach him anything of substance. Brian hadn’t known touch for years and he embraced, quite literally, its sudden return in the form of team cuddles. It seems rather funny, doesn’t it? That there are things you never realize you lost until you find it and cherish it once more? Ian seemed to believe so.

Roger was a fish.

“That’s impossible, for how all that pretentiousness my sixth face had, he simply wasn’t one to be tricked.”

“I beg to differ,” Roger countered. “I’ve met him. You’re absolutely rubbish at spaceship maintenance, I give you that. But you’re actually quite clever...very creative even. He was witty and creative too, but he wasn’t clever. He was mostly a bumbling fool.”

The Doctor didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.

“What medical condition were you looking for anyway?,” Deacy inquired as he rolled up the sleeves of his turtleneck and took off his spliced button up.

“Hanahaki disease.”

At this, Roger quickly turned away from Brian, trying to hold in his laughter. The Doctor buried his smiling face in Deacy’s shoulder as the latter forcibly schooled his expression into one of nonchalance. He was well aware that Hanahaki disease was fictional, after all, his girlfriend, Ronnie used to write fiction in her spare time and he’d be the beta reader. He nodded politely, as Brian happily hummed a little tune, oblivious to his friends’ antics.

You know you’ve got a terrible grasp on human custom when even a fish is more culturally aware than you.

“Well, either way,” Brian piped up, still blissfully unaware, “your collection’s incomplete. Maybe we should go look for the missing volume after Deacy repairs the console?”

“I reckon we need another adventure,” Roger agreed as he set his legs on the floor and yanked The Doctor towards the couch. Brian scooted closer, letting his head rest on Roger’s shoulder as The Doctor climbed in and rested his upper body on his companions’ laps.

“I’m afraid we’ll be stranded here for a little while,” Deacy remarked.

“Then what are you waiting for?,” Brian asked as he beckoned Deacy over to the couch. The latter smiled as he joined in what he believed to be the best part of traveling with The Doctor: cuddle piles.

—————————————-

“Are we gonna tell him…?”

“No!”

“How dare you?! I invited you onboard expecting a starry-eyed audience to gawk at everything I do but instead I got someone who seems to know my TARDIS better than me!”

“There’s no point in complaining about free maintenance.”

“You’re one to talk, fishman. There’s no point in bringing you along with me to witness the universe if you’ve already seen it all!”

“Yet you still keep us around.”

“...I suppose I do. Now wipe those smug looks off your faces. We’re going to 2012. Just to appease him.”

[dickspeightjrs]

Get Fit, Get Happy (au / 7.1k words / teacher!dean / football coach!cas

ao3 link

“Alright everyone settle down, let’s get started so we can finish.” Principal Ellen Harvelle addressed the teachers of Lawrence High, squashed into the teacher’s lounge for the weekly staff briefing. She ran through the agenda for the meeting as quickly as she could. 

No one liked the staff briefings. It was the same old shit every week. Please don’t use the printer for personal use. Clean up after yourself. And can whoever keeps leaving fish in the fridge please stop. We’re close to banning fish altogether. 

Dean just didn’t listen anymore. He’d been an English teacher at the school for five years now, he’d heard it all before. Now, he and Benny, the home economics teacher, would just sit at the back and make each other laugh like silly schoolboys. They were worse than the kids they taught. 

“And finally,” Ellen continued, “I’d like everyone to welcome our new football coach. Woulda like to introduce yourself?”

Dean looked up from where Benny had been doodling obscene images on the back of his copy of the meeting agenda, and his eyes went wide. Ellen was gesturing to a timid-looking guy standing just off to the side. How could this dude be the new coach? He was wearing a trench coat for crying out loud! 

“Um, hello everyone,” the guy waved awkwardly, probably not expecting to be put on the spot. “I’m Castiel Novak.” He then turned back to Ellen, who had clearly been expecting him to say something more if her confused look was anything to go by. 

Not a huge talker then. 

Thankfully, they were all saved from the awkward silence by the morning bell, which caused the teacher’s lounge to become much more hectic than it had been all morning. Teachers dashed out to get to their homerooms on time so their kids weren’t left alone for too long. They all knew what the consequences were if the kids went unsupervised. 

Dean bid Benny a goodbye and moved towards his own classroom. He walked past Castiel on the way, who was looking a little bewildered by the sudden commotion, and caught his eye. Dean only gave a nod in greeting. No way was he going to get himself stuck with the new guy. No matter how hot he looked up close. 

*  *  *

Later, at lunch, back in the teacher’s lounge, Dean was sitting at his usual table in the corner with Benny. Charlie, who taught computer science, had joined them. Castiel was still the main subject of conversation for many of the faculty members in the room. 

“I just don’t get how a guy like that is a football coach? Where did they even find him?” Dean scoffed. 

“His stats speak for themselves, actually.” Charlie answered. “And if you must know, he’s from Chicago. Moved here last month.” She shrugged before taking a bite of her sandwich. 

Benny and Dean looked at each other with matching looks of ‘what the fuck?’

“How the heck did you know that, Bradbury?” Benny asked. 

Charlie chewed slowly and refused to meet their eyes. 

Dean sighed. “You befriended him, didn’t you?” He took Charlie’s silence as a ‘yes’. “Dammit, Charlie. You always gotta take in the newbies, haven’t you?”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed in response. “I took you in when you started.”

Benny gave a nod of ‘fair enough’. 

Dean swallowed. “Yeah but, if you start being friends with him, then we’ll end up having to be friends with him too.” He whined. 

That clearly wasn’t the right thing to say as Charlie’s face went hard and she immediately stood up. “You can be a real dick sometimes, Dean,” she spat out as she angrily packed up her half eaten lunch. “See you later.” She grabbed her bag and turned to stride towards the door. 

“Wait, where are you going?” Dean called after her. 

“To see Castiel. I’m sure he could use a friend on his first day.” She retorted, with venom, over her shoulder. 

Dean turned back to face Benny who had a pained look on his face. 

“Well done, Brother.” 

Dean lifted his hands in exasperation. “What? The guy seems like a hard-ass. He needs to let loose a little. That’s all I was gonna say.” 

Benny chuckled. “Well, you’d know. You let loose a little too much. Maybe he should take a leaf out of your book.” 

It was true. Dean did live a laid back life. He wasn’t in a relationship, hadn’t been for years. Instead, he got by on one night stands and cheap beer until it was time to get up Monday morning and be Mr Winchester. 

He breathed a laugh. “You’re right about that.” 

Then a sly grin started appearing on Benny’s face. “Why don’t you be the one to show him what he’s missing?” 

“What’re you talking about, man?” 

“I bet that you can convince him to let go a little.” Benny raised an eyebrow. 

“No way.” Dean shook his head. “That dude has a stick so far up his ass, there ain’t room for anything else.” 

Benny pulled a face at the image. “TMI, Brother.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, but then thought to himself. He had to admit the guy was hot, even in that weird trench coat he’d been wearing earlier. It might be nice to change it up a bit and challenge himself. And if Castiel didn’t fall for Dean’s charms at least Dean would win the bet against Benny. Win-win.

“Fine. I’ll give it a go. What time frame are we talkin’ here?”

Benny thought for a second. “By the first football game of the season. You think you can do it in three weeks?” 

Dean scoffed. “Can’t believe you doubt my talents, man. It’s a deal.”

*  *  * 

Figuring he’d start his crusade as soon as possible, Dean went to watch football practice straight after school. He’d carefully avoided Charlie’s classroom, knowing that she was probably still annoyed with him. But, he knew he’d win her over again with a promise of being her handmaiden at her LARPing event sometime. However, that could wait, for now he had his sights set on Castiel. 

Dean climbed his way up onto the bleachers, hoping Castiel wouldn’t see him watching him like a stalker. He still didn’t really want to talk to the guy, not yet anyway. He was just gonna watch him in action and consider where to go from there. 

It was about ten minutes into practice when Castiel finally made an appearance, having already sent the boys out to warm up. 

Seeing the coach stride across the field to where the team waited, panting from their mini workout, made Dean’s eyes almost bug out of his head. 

Castiel wasn’t wearing that bulky trench coat anymore. Instead, he was wearing a very form-fitting workout shirt with matching running shorts. The outfit hugged the firm outline of Castiel’s body. It was clear now why Castiel was a football coach. He might not have been traditionally ‘bulky’ but man he certainly looked strong. 

Dean found himself letting his eyes wander across Castiel’s tanned skin a few times during the practice. And if they made their way up Castiel’s runner’s legs and settled on his firm looking ass, well that was no one else’s business but Dean’s. 

Even once the practice was over, Dean remained stuck to his seat. He was pretty sure he’d just witnessed a God on that field. At this point, he didn’t care if he lost the bet to Benny, he was definitely going to get with Castiel. Even if it killed him.

“So did you enjoy watching my practice?” 

Dean jumped out of his skin. He clutched a hand to his chest, willing his heart to beat normally again. “Jesus, man, don’t sneak up on people like that.” 

Castiel’s previously smiling face now looked downcast. “I apologise, I’ll leave you alone.” He turned around to walk back towards the field. 

“No, wait,” Dean called out. This wasn’t the way it was meant to go, he needed Castiel on side. “You don’t need to leave, you just made me jump is all.” 

Castiel turned back and regarded Dean, before walking up to him and taking a seat next to him. 

“Why did you watch?” Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged, nonchalantly. “I just wanted to check you out.” He smirked. “Apparently you have some good stats. You really know your way around a ball, if you know what I mean.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively. 

“I suppose I do, yes. The team I coached back in Chicago were champions three years in a row before I left.”

Was this guy being purposefully stupid? How did he not realise Dean was flirting with him? He referenced his fucking balls for christ’s sake!

Dean shook his head in exasperation. He was right, the dude did have a stick up his ass. 

“Is everything okay?” Castiel asked, squinting. 

“Yeah, I was just wondering if you could teach me some of those ball skills sometime?”

Right, Castiel had to understand the flirting now. 

“I believe, before trying to master any skills, you should first increase your level of fitness.” 

God fucking dammit! This guy was clueless. 

Wait, did he just call Dean unfit?

“Hang on a min-” 

“Would you like to join me on my morning run?” 

Dean looked into Castiel’s questioning eyes. He was doing that little squint and tilting his head again. How could this dude be hot and adorable? It wasn’t fair. (Not that Dean would admit to anybody, not even Benny, that he found Castiel cute). 

But this could be a way to spend some more alone time with Castiel - and turn on the charm. As much as the thought of running at any time of the day, let alone in the morning, made Dean want to hurl, he nodded. 

“Sure man, sounds good. Where and when?”

Castiel blinked in surprise. He clearly hadn’t expected Dean to agree so readily. 

Ha! At least Dean still had the upper hand. 

“Oh, um, well there’s a nice wooded area around my house that I’d quite like to explore a little more. You could meet me at my house and go there?” Castiel offered. 

“Sounds good.” Dean repeated. Though, it did not sound good. 

Castiel gave Dean his address and told him to come over at around 6.30 the next morning. Dean almost whimpered at the thought of being awake early enough to get there on time, but the flex of Castiel’s muscles as he lifted himself to his feet made him remember what it was for. 

*  *  * 

Nope. No one was worth this. No matter how beautiful and God-like they were. 

Dean could see his breath dance in front of his face. He just knew this was going to be the worst morning of his life. They hadn’t even started the run yet and Dean was already done. He’d also failed to realise the day before that he didn’t actually own anything to exercise in. 

So here he was, sitting on Castiel’s doorstep in a pair of Sam’s old Converse that he’d managed to dig out of the closet. He’d thrown on a band shirt and an old pair of tracksuit pants that he actually uses to sleep in during the winter and hoped that it would be good enough. 

He could feel himself begin to nod off  when Castiel’s door finally opened. 

“Oh, hello, Dean.” Castiel almost stumbled, not expecting to see Dean sitting on his doorstep. “I didn’t realise you’d arrived. You could have knocked and waited in the kitchen to keep out of the cold.”

Dean hastily rose to his feet to face Castiel. “Ah, don’t worry about it. I just wanted a bit of fresh air.” In all honesty, Dean had debated knocking on the door but he didn’t know what he’d find on the other side. He was already far enough out of his comfort zone for one day. 

Castiel looked sceptical but didn’t say anything. Instead he gave Dean’s running clothes a once over with a slight raised eyebrow. 

Dean almost started feeling a bit self-conscious under the gaze. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t an exercise nut like Castiel seemed to be. He definitely wouldn’t be coming back after today. He wasn’t here to be judged.

“So have you stretched already?” Castiel eventually spoke, as he began stretching his arms above his head and shaking them out after a few seconds. 

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, no. I ain’t stretching.” 

“That’s up to you. But you might regret it later.” Castiel shrugged, bending down to touch his toes. 

Fucking hell. Dean looked around to see if anyone else was watching this display too. Seeing Castiel’s tanned skin stretch and flex this close made Dean glad he wasn’t wearing tight running shorts like Castiel was. 

Once Castiel finished warming up, he directed Dean down his road until they reached the wooded area he’d talked about the day before. 

“I think it would be nice to run along this trail, it wraps around a lake and if we’re lucky we might see some of the ducks and their little ducklings.” Castiel smiled. 

Dean couldn’t figure this guy out. One minute he seemed mysterious and closed off and the next he was smiling adorably over freakin’ ducklings. 

“Sure, dude. Whatever you say.” 

“I’ll make sure to start slow so it’s a little easier for you.” Castiel assured. 

A little easier? It’s just fucking running. 

Castiel took off with a steady jog, and Dean rolled his eyes. He ran to catch up. There was no way he was going to be left in Castiel’s dust. 

*  *  * 

Half an hour later, Dean was regretting being so dismissive of running. His legs felt like they were on fire and his lungs were about to burst. 

Castiel had been jogging steadily in front of him the whole time while Dean panted his way along the trail. He knew he looked like an out-of-breath, sweaty mess but by this point he didn’t care, he just wanted it to be over and never have to exercise again. 

Just as he managed to catch his breath again and speed slightly to catch up to Castiel, he came down on an uneven part of the walkway. His ankle rolled and he stumbled to the ground with a none-too-quiet yelp of pain. 

Castiel immediately stopped in his tracks and appeared at Dean’s side, kneeling down to see what had happened. 

“Are you alright, Dean? What happened?” 

“I think I tripped on a tree root or somethin’” He hissed through gritted teeth, showing Castiel his swelling ankle. “Shit, man, this hurts.” 

Castiel hummed to himself before tentatively reaching his hands out to Dean’s foot. “May I?” He asked, looking into Dean’s eyes. If Dean hadn’t been in so much pain, he’d surely find himself getting lost in Castiel’s calming blue eyes. 

“Just be careful.” Dean said, harshly. 

Undeterred by Dean’s harsh tone, Castiel placed delicate hands on Dean’s ankle. He gently pressed around the swelling and apart from a couple of sharp hits of pain, which made Dean hiss again, his inspection was over quickly with minimal fuss. 

“It looks like nothing more than a sprain.” Castiel assured. “We can walk back steadily. You can lean on me if it’s easier, and I can take your weight. I think we should wait for some of the swelling to go down a little first though. There’s a picnic area just up from here, we can sit on one of the benches.” 

Dean was reluctant to get help from anyone, let alone the weird new guy but he knew he wouldn’t make it any further without help. 

After a couple minutes of limping (and trying not to focus on Castiel’s firm body against his) Dean settled onto one of the benches in front of the lake. 

They’d been out in the woods for almost an hour now and Dean had to admit it was pretty awesome seeing the sun rise through the trees. It was actually kinda peaceful watching little bugs skit across the smooth water of the lake. 

“I gotta say, Cas, this is actually kinda nice. Y’know the woods and the lake and everything.” Dean gestured to their surroundings. 

He glanced at Castiel and saw a small, peaceful smile on the man’s face. 

“Yes, I do enjoy being here. I’m glad I found it when I moved here. And I never seem to see anyone when I come here on my runs.” Castiel paused. “Does this mean you’re going to be nice to me now?”

Dean cringed slightly at being called out for his treatment of Castiel up until this point. He guessed the guy wasn’t as bad as he’d originally thought. Actually, he seemed like a pretty nice dude. 

“Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I don’t play well with others.” 

“That’s not the impression I got from Charlie yesterday. She spoke highly of you, and how much she values your friendship.” 

Dean snorted. “That’s surprising considering I pissed her off yesterday too.” 

Castiel frowned in confusion, encouraging Dean to continue. 

“Ah, I, um, was talking about you and she didn’t like what I was saying so she stormed off.” Dean explained, rubbing the back of his neck in shame. 

“Oh, I see. If you don’t mind me asking, what was it you said about me?” Castiel’s face was questioning. 

Dean couldn’t tell how the other man was feeling and he didn’t want to push him away when he’d just started genuinely liking the guy. 

“It was mainly that I couldn’t see how you were the new football coach because you turned up that morning looking like a tax accountant in that trench coat,” he explained, tentatively. He cringed a little now at how wrong he’d been in his first impression. For an English teacher he clearly had a hard time not judging a book by its cover. 

“Oh, well,” Castiel replied, starting to look a little uncomfortable. 

“But I don’t think that anymore!” Dean rushed to explain. “Man, you kicked my ass at running this morning. And you looked awesome at practice yesterday. The kids seemed to really listen to whatever you said.” 

Castiel looked down bashfully at his lap at the compliment. “Thank you, Dean. I’m glad I was able to change your mind.” 

“Seriously, Cas,” Dean continued, “I don’t know how you have the motivation to keep up with exercise all the time. Being the coach is one thing but going for a run every day, getting up at the ass-crack of dawn? I couldn’t do it.” 

“I suppose it’s because I don’t only do it for the physical benefits but also the mental health benefits too.” Castiel explained. 

“Mental health? How can exercise improve your mental health? I just spent the last half hour wanting to die because it was so painful.” 

Castiel chuckled. “Well, yes, I suppose getting started is always the hardest part. But doing exercise is proven to help clear your mind and help reduce stress and anxiety.” 

“You sure know a lot about this, huh, Cas?” Dean asked, impressed with what he was learning about Castiel. 

But Castiel’s expression changed. He was suddenly closed off again and looking at his lap. He cleared his throat. “It’s from personal experience. About five years ago, I fell into a deep depression. Exercise, running in particular, helped me get out of it.”

Woah, Dean had no idea what to say to that. Castiel may come across as a little shy and nerdy but Dean would have never thought he’d have a difficult past. Don’t judge books, Dean.

Dean let the silence around them build for a few moments before carefully choosing his next words. He didn’t want to outright ask Castiel about what caused his depression, and he knew enough to know that it might not have been any specific thing at all. 

“So how did running turn into becoming a football coach?” 

Castiel lifted his head to give Dean a strange look. It was like he wasn’t used to people not asking for more personal details. 

“There was an opening at the school my brother worked at and they allowed me to try giving coaching a go. Their team wasn’t the best anyway so they really had nothing to lose. As I said yesterday, that team went on to be champion for three consecutive years.” Castiel explained. 

“Wow, dude, that’s awesome! And it was cool of your brother to get you that job.” Dean said, nudging Castiel with his elbow. 

“Oh,” Castiel shook his head, forlornly. “You misunderstand me. It was the school my brother had worked at but he didn’t get the job for me. It was after he’d died.” 

Fuck. Dean wasn’t expecting that. That must have been what sent Castiel into his depression. 

Dean knew he’d probably be the same if anything ever happened to his brother, Sam. The kid may be out in California for college still but that didn’t mean his brother wasn’t still one of the most important people in his life.

Dean didn’t have to debate what to say next, as Castiel carried on speaking. 

“He was killed in a car accident. We were twins so we were always incredibly close. As you’ve probably guessed, that’s what made everything change. I took up running a few months after the accident as a way to be on my own and clear my head. And also, I suppose, be closer to him and talk to him.” Castiel shrugged, as if what he was saying wasn’t important and even a bit weird. 

But Dean didn’t think it was weird. There was nothing weird about Castiel now. Dean was in awe of his strength and his determination to carry on and get through one of the most tragic things that could ever happen to a person. 

The moment didn’t need filling with words so Dean just put an arm around Castiel and pulled him in a little closer. He still barely knew the man but he knew when another human being needed comfort and not judgement. And that was just what he was going to give him. 

Eventually, they parted and Castiel gave Dean a wordless nod in thanks, before helping Dean to his feet and guiding him back down the path. 

They never got to see the ducks but Dean figured they’d just have to come back another day for them. 

*  *  * 

Despite his initial grumblings about going running so early in the morning, over the next week or so Dean joined Castiel on some of his runs. He even bought himself some proper running shoes and sportswear, much to Castiel’s pride (and amusement). He’d threatened Castiel with bodily harm if anyone at the school found out he’d been wearing stretchy shorts - especially Benny, he’d never let Dean forget it. 

And as well as joining Castiel in the mornings, Dean found himself watching the football practices still too. However, he didn’t stay hidden on the bleachers for long once some of the kids on the team spotted him. He taught a couple of them for English and they convinced him to come down to the field and join in with their practice. Dean had looked to Castiel for permission and simply got a beautiful, welcoming smile in return. 

Watching Castiel teach, up close, was amazing. Even though the whole point of football was competition, Castiel never made it about only winning. He made sure the players knew their value on the team, and helped them work together. He was even open with them about his struggles with mental illness (though keeping some details private, of course) and how exercise helped him and could help them too. 

It made Dean think about himself as well. About what the cheap beer and one night stands was really covering up. Maybe he had his own demons that he’d been avoiding and keeping at bay with the wrong methods. 

He brought it up with Castiel after practice one night and they stayed talking with each other for hours until it was pitch black outside and there was a chill in the air. Dean drove home after with a rumbling stomach but a lighter heart. 

Through all their interactions, whenever Castiel laughed at something Dean said, or squinted adorably at a reference he didn’t quite understand, Dean felt a twinge in his gut. It took him a couple of days to fully understand it but a couple weeks after their first run together, Dean knew it. 

He was falling in love with Castiel. 

*  *  * 

Dean didn’t dare to mention his newfound feelings to anyone, not even Charlie, in case it got back to Castiel. 

But secretly, privately, he began working up the nerve to ask Castiel if he’d like to go to dinner sometime. He was nervous that Castiel would reject him and he’d be heartbroken but he knew, without a doubt, that Castiel would never judge him for it. 

Dean finally decided that he’d speak to Castiel after the final football practice before the first game. 

But when Dean arrived that afternoon, he could sense an immediate shift in Castiel’s mood. The coach never let it show in front of the team but Dean liked to think he knew Cas pretty well now and there was definitely something wrong. Cas wasn’t laughing at Dean’s silly little quips, instead just giving a polite smile and continuing with the drills. 

Once the final kid was picked up by their parents, Dean turned to where Castiel was usually waiting by his side. Only this time, Castiel was nowhere to be found. 

Dean jogged back over to the field and found Castiel collecting up the equipment they’d used during practice. 

“There you are, Cas! I’ll help with this if you want and then could I talk to you about something before you leave?” Dean asked, reaching to take one of the helmet’s Castiel was juggling. 

“No, it’s okay, Dean. I can manage. What would you like to talk about?” Castiel asked in a clipped tone. He didn’t meet Dean’s eyes, instead busying himself with tidying up. 

Dean shook his head a little in bewilderment. But he figured if Castiel had an issue he would have brought it up with Dean already. 

But being put on the spot, and not having a little extra time to prepare what he wanted to say, Dean suddenly didn’t know how to formulate everything he felt without overwhelming Cas and being rejected. 

Castiel turned his back on Dean to collect some plastic cones and stack them together again. 

Okay, Dean could work with that, at least it might be easier without having to look Cas in the eye.

“Uh, okay, well I guess I’ve realised lately that how I feel about you isn’t strictly platonic. And I was wondering if you wanna go out for dinner after the big game on Friday? Y’know as like a date, type, thing?” Dean cringed, he sounded like an idiot who couldn’t string a sentence together. 

Castiel stood from where he had been bending down and turned to face Dean. 

Instead of happiness or even disgust, Dean could only see sadness in Castiel’s eyes. 

“I didn’t think it was actually true. I didn’t want to believe it. I thought I’d finally found someone who knew me and didn’t judge me. But it was all a lie, wasn’t it?” Castiel whispered, tears building in his eyes. 

Dean was flabbergasted. What was Cas talking about? 

“Cas, man, I don’t understand.” Dean begged, eyes searching Castiel’s for any sign of where this had come from. 

“I found out about your bet with Benny. You know the one to try to sleep with me by the first football game of the season?” Castiel spat out with more anger than he’d ever heard the man speak. 

Oh fuck. Shit. Fuck. 

Dean had honestly forgotten all about that stupid bet. Ever since that first morning they went jogging and Dean twisted his ankle, what Dean had been feeling for Castiel was nothing but true. And now just as it could all be even better, it was taken away just as quick. 

Dean swallowed, “How did you find out?” 

“I overheard Benny telling someone in the teacher’s lounge this morning.” Castiel said with a glare. 

“Cas, I-” 

“Forget it, Dean. I was happy to have your friendship and up until this morning, I would have been even happier to have more. But I’m not going to be used for some childish, immature schoolboy bet. Grow up, and please don’t speak to me anymore.” 

And with that Castiel took the pile of cones he’d collected and strode across the field away from Dean with his head held high. 

Even as he watched Cas walk away, and felt his heart break too, Dean couldn’t help but admire Castiel’s strength and certainty of his own self-worth. 

*  *  * 

The next day, Dean cornered Benny in the parking lot before school. He’d been tossing and turning all night trying to think of ways to get Castiel to believe him and forgive him but anxiety and self-hatred overpowered any logical thinking.

“Benny, why the fuck were you talking about our bet in the teacher’s lounge yesterday?” Dean practically growled. He didn’t want to be angry with his friend but none of this would have happened if he’d kept his mouth shut. 

“Woah, Brother.” Benny held up his hands in defence. “Why are you so heated? I was only telling a coupla the IT guys that it seemed like you were getting somewhere with the bet considering all the time you’ve been spending with Castiel.” He explained. 

Dean grit his teeth. “Yeah, well, Cas overheard and now he won’t talk to me.” 

“‘Cas’ now, is it?” Benny raised his eyebrow with a smirk. 

Dean just glared at him. That was not the part to be focussing on. 

Benny relented with a sigh. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry, man. But I don’t even see the big deal. It’s my fault he found out so I can forfeit the bet.” 

Dean was close to punching the car door next to them with frustration. “I don’t give a single fuck about the bet. I care about the fact that Cas thinks I only spent all that time with him just to get into his pants.”

“Dean, Brother, you’re making it sound like you’re in love with the guy.” 

Dean just gave him a desperate look. 

“Oh. You are in love with him.” Benny muttered as realisation dawned on his face. 

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know, man. But it doesn’t matter now because he won’t talk to me. I tried going to the lake to catch him on his jog this morning but he never showed.” 

Jesus. Dean was really starting to feel like he was back in high school with all these feelings and relationship drama. 

“So come up with some way to make him listen.” Benny shrugged, as if it were that simple.

“But how am I meant to do that?” Dean asked, frantically. 

“Don’t ask me, I’ve already put my foot in it once. I ain’t doing it again.” 

Dean groaned and wandered off towards the school building. He knew Benny was only trying to help by not helping but Dean was running out of ideas.

The closer he got to the front doors, the more he realised who he’d have to go to for help. 

Charlie. 

*  *  * 

It turned out that Charlie had already heard from Castiel about everything that had happened and was also reluctant to talk to Dean. But he did eventually manage to get her to hear him out. 

The pitiful look that Charlie gave him after he’d explained his side of the story was enough to make Dean want to cry. He was screwed. 

Charlie stood there and let him say his piece before giving him a look, telling him to ‘Nut up, Winchester’, and started planning what Dean could do to win Castiel over. 

*  *  * 

Dean decided to put his plan in motion the Monday after the first football game of the season. 

Lawrence High had won, of course (there was never any doubt with Castiel leading them). And by Monday the victory high was still present amongst the students and the teachers alike. 

At lunch, Dean had seen many members of staff come up to congratulate Castiel on the win. Some of them had never even spoken to him before, which pissed Dean off. They didn’t give a shit about him until he made the school, and therefore them, look good. Assholes. 

Castiel was too polite to say anything other than a small ‘thank you’ and give them a blushing smile. Dean’s heart melted a little when he saw it grace Cas’ features.  But, Dean couldn’t jump to his defence, Castiel still wasn’t talking to him. It hurt, but Dean hoped by the end of the day, he’d win Cas over. 

That afternoon, Dean anxiously watched the clock tick down to the final bell. As soon as it rang, he was with his students rushing out the door. He had a lot to get ready before Charlie lured Castiel to Dean’s classroom in half an hour. 

That half an hour went quickly with Dean dashing around to make sure everything was perfect for Cas’ surprise. But finally everything was ready. 

Dean had converted his classroom into a mini movie theatre with various blankets and cushions laid out on the floor in front of the projector screen. He’d even ordered some limited edition burger pizzas because Cas had mentioned last week that he’d seen them advertised and wanted to try one. 

With everything in place, Dean was left to wait for Castiel to arrive. He tried not to watch the clock tick with every second but it was the only way to keep himself from over-thinking and doubting everything he’d planned. 

When another ten minutes passed with no sign of either Castiel or Charlie, Dean was beginning to give up hope. 

Maybe Cas caught on to the plan and still didn’t want to speak to Dean. Maybe Dean just needed to give up and get over it. He’d ruined his chance and that was it. 

“But Charlie, why do I need- oh.” 

Dean’s head whipped up at the sound of Castiel’s voice. 

There he was standing in the doorway of Dean’s classroom, with Charlie poking her head over his shoulder and giving Dean an encouraging thumbs up. Then she gave a salute and scampered off, leaving the two men alone. 

“Dean, what’s all this? What’s going on?” Castiel asked, gesturing to the items on the floor. 

Suddenly, Dean was painfully aware of how stupid he probably looked right now. He searched his brain for the right words to say but he couldn’t. For days he’d been thinking about what he’d say to Cas in this moment but now he was faced with the man, watching him with those beautiful blue eyes, Dean was stuck. 

But nothing good ever came easy. So he took a leap. 

“This is to say sorry for everything that happened with that stupid bet.” Dean explained. 

Castiel looked skeptical. He didn’t move from his place at the door. 

Dean sighed and walked towards him. “Look. You don’t have to stay but I need you to know that it stopped being a bet when we first went to the lake together.” Dean searched Castiel’s eyes, trying to get him to understand the truth. 

Castiel's eyes looked hopeful but still guarded. 

“I’ve never met anyone like you, you’ve been through so much and you’ve pulled yourself out the other side. I guess I still need a little help with that.” Dean shrugged. 

Castiel still didn’t say a word. 

“Please, Cas, stay? Watch a movie with me?” Dean begged.

Castiel took a deep breath. And finally spoke.

“What movie is it?” 

Dean’s mouth split into a grin. “It’s, uh, it’s not actually a movie. It’s a documentary on ducklings and other baby animals. After I told Charlie that we never got to see any at the lake, she told me about this guy, David something? who makes documentaries. And, well, I thought you’d like it.” 

“David Attenborough.” Castiel supplied.

“Uh, what?” 

“The man’s name is David Attenborough. He makes very interesting television shows about animals all over the world.” Castiel explained. 

“Oh, cool.” Dean nodded. “So, what d’ya say? I don’t wanna rush you but Charlie only convinced the janitor to keep the school open until ten. So we’ve gotta start it soon if we don’t want to be locked in.”

“I’ll stay on one condition.” 

“Sure..” Dean answered, unsure of where this was going.

“Kiss me.”

Dean didn’t have to be asked twice. He closed the gap between them and pulled Cas as close to his body as he could. He had him now and he was never going to let go. 

Once they broke apart, Dean guided Castiel to take a seat amongst the pillows and blankets while he pressed play on the computer. 

They spent the next couple of hours eating pizza and watching the documentary. Cas would interrupt the commentary with his own knowledge of various animals and Dean did nothing but smile and pull him closer, happy to listen to Cas talk for hours about what he loves. 

The next thing Dean knew, he was waking up with Castiel’s warm body pressed up against his and the early morning sunlight streaming through the windows. 

Dean sat up and searched for his phone. 

07:18

Oh crap. They’d fallen asleep and ended up being locked in after all it seemed. 

Luckily, Dean had woken up before the school day began and they were found by the janitor or, god forbid, some students. 

He turned to wake Castiel but paused for a moment to take in the man lying next to him. 

Castiel’s hair was a mess and his shirt was rumpled from sleep, and he was the most beautiful soul Dean had ever seen. Now Dean had him, he wasn’t ever going to fuck it up again. 

Running a soothing hand through Castiel’s hair, Dean leant down to whisper in his ear. “Cas, you gotta wake up. We fell asleep, dude.” 

Castiel blinked awake, and squinted up at Dean. Yup, Dean was pretty sure he was in love with him at this point. 

“Good morning, Dean.” Castiel said, his voice even more gravelly than usual. 

And even with the risk of getting caught, Dean couldn’t help but lean down and place a soft kiss on Castiel’s lips. 

Eventually, the two men rose to their feet and tidied the classroom ready for the day. It was as if nothing had happened there that night. 

They snuck out of the classroom, checking for any teachers that had come in early and went to the teacher’s bathroom to freshen up. 

As they walked into the teacher’s lounge later on, Dean had a smug smile on his face. He’d had an amazing night with Castiel and they’d got away with staying there all night, cuddled up like high school sweethearts. 

The smile fell from his face when he saw the new addition to the notice board. 

There in full colour, on poster paper, was a photo of him and Castiel curled up around each other on Dean’s classroom floor. 

Dean felt the heat rush to his cheeks. He turned to Castiel and saw the same on his face. 

“Ah I see you guys have seen the newest item on the agenda for our staff briefing.” Charlie’s voice appeared from behind them. 

Dean turned from the picture to face Charlie’s grin. 

“What did you do, Charlie?” Dean growled. 

“What can I say? I stumbled across you two this morning when I happened to come in early and you just looked so adorable all snuggled up together. I couldn’t keep it to myself.” Charlie smirked. 

Man, if Dean didn’t love her so much (and wasn’t so grateful to her for helping him get Cas back) he’d tear her a new one. Instead he just rolled his eyes and shrugged, putting an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and pulling him in with a proud grin. 

“Keep it up there. I think it looks good, right Cas?”

“I agree. In fact, would it be okay to get a copy, Charlie?” Castiel smiled, sweetly. 

Dean threw his head back with laughter. God, he loved him. 

*  *  * 

A few months later, Dean’s life was completely changed for the better. And it was all down to Castiel. He’d taken a leaf out of Castiel’s book and joined him for a run every morning. Life without turning to alcohol whenever something bad happened or when he felt low was infinitely better and Dean felt lighter. 

Now, he turned up to Castiel’s house when he was getting inside his own head and they’d either stay in and watch some more David Attenborough documentaries (what could Dean say? That dude was awesome), or they’d go for a run around the block. Said run would always end in a race, which Castiel would always win. Dean could never stay a sore loser for long when he saw the blinding smile on Castiel’s face every time he won. (And getting to see him from behind, muscles tight and flexing under his running shorts, well Dean couldn’t complain.)

As the summer months came in, they even took to using the race track at school to challenge each other on. 

Soon enough, the kids on Castiel’s team and some of the other students they both taught caught on and would come to watch their teachers race each other. 

Even with Dean’s improved fitness, Castiel still beat him to the finish line. But it never mattered to Dean when the rush of endorphins took over him and he’d pull Cas into a hug as they both tried to catch their breaths. Their chests moving together as Dean placed a secret peck to his boyfriend’s temple. 

Only, today was different. It was almost the end of the school year and the kids on Cas’ team had convinced him to challenge Dean one last time. Dean, as always, was down to have a friendly spar with his boyfriend.

They did a couple of laps and Castiel took an early lead like he always did but this time Dean pushed hard in the last couple of meters and passed Castiel to go on and get across the finish line first. 

Dean’s students were cheering for him as he leapt with joy, smashing as fist in the air. 

Castiel walked up to him, catching his breath, with a wide smile. He went to pull Dean into their usual casual hug but this time Dean didn’t just settle for a secret peck. Instead, he pulled Cas in for a deep kiss, drowning out the increased cheers of the students on the bleachers. 

When they broke apart, foreheads touching and panting into each other’s mouths, Dean whispered. “Thank you, Cas.”

“For what?” Castiel frowned.

“For everything.”

-

A/N: So this ended up being hella longer than I was expecting but Dean and Cas wouldn’t let me stop lmao

Hope you guys enjoyed!

If you enjoy my works and would like to be added to my tags list, let me know!

-

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @breathingdestiel @simplymisha 

@thekingslover @aelysianmuse @2musiclover2 @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @50shadesofsubtext @destielle @carryoncastiel @winchester-novak @angelwithashotguun @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @chaoticdean @jensenacklesruinedmylife @huckleberryhusbands @good-things-do-happen-dean @irlydontknoanymore

[finalcreacher]

From The Earth to The Morgue - Chapter 1

A/N- Basically...this is a Klaus x Artist! Reader...and y’all are both recovering addicts? Well, not so much Klaus. Not yet, at least.

T/W- I don’t think they are any major warnings this chapter? The rest of the series will have some very heavy topics though.

Oh. and gender-neutral reader! :D

Word Count: 1,825

They fiddle the pen back and forth between their fingers, trying to stop themselves from moving it too quickly- they had dropped it too many times to count, and they think their fellow meeting members(all seated in their banged-up, metal folding chairs) were getting tired of them asking for the pen beneath their seat. It was better for everyone than the tapping though, or the clicking. Everyone except them, the noise and the motion of their hands helped them get through the meetings. Drawing was better than all other options though, it's why they had the pen, and the notebook. Doodling the other meeting members helped keep them focused, but not enough to get lost in the meeting and the message- just enough to listen.

Roaming the room with their eyes, they spot a tall, scrawny man, who appeared new to this particular group spot. He had haunted dark brown eyes, and deep circles underneath them from lack of sleep. He fidgets with his hands and pulls against the edges of his coat, he looks around nervously- on edge. They knew the feeling, but what seemed odd, was how he kept looking back to the same empty spot beside him. Staring, and whispering, and they'd be more worried if this wasn't their second year in Narcotics Anonymous.

Many strange and unsettling things occurred, and they were sure they might have had an occasion or two similar to this in the past. Maybe not a talk to the air type- but definitely a “I've taken too much and I think I can see the walls moving”, type. They didn't much enjoy talking about that, though. However, the man seems okay with this, and very comfortable talking. Not freaked and scared. Almost as if there really was someone else there- someone familiar.

They shake it off, noticing his dark fashion again, ripped along the ends, threads pulled loose. It seems far too many years old- but not beyond repair. A little TLC would do it wonders. They chuckle at the thought of helping him. Mending the jacket in their room, having him splayed across the mattress, bare arms and chest taunting them. It made them shiver.

There was an aura around the man that they hadn't felt before. Part of them wondered if there was a ghost next to him- which was silly, the average person couldn't tell those kinds of things. Then again, compared to most, Y/n wasn’t a very average person. Though they’d like to think they are. 

Eccentric was boring, and normal was good.

They glance around the room once more, but finally settle on the man again. Taking in every feature, how his hair parted, and twisted in far too many directions, and how it looked all shaggy. They start with a quick sketch, and then a simple doodle of his eyes- sad and tired. They supposed everyone's eyes looked a little sad and tired, as did their own, but his were worse. There was something far more horrifying behind them.

Then, they begin to draw a soft, nearly invisible figure, standing behind the first full body sketch. They rub their fingers against it, successfully smudging it. It feels ominous.

A feeling of coldness washes over them, making their arm hairs stand on end. They don't pay much mind to it- only making a small note of it in their head. They look back up from the paper, and notice the aura is gone from the man. Even the dead get bored sometimes.

When they look down, the paper creases like it would if touched too harshly. They had been so careful though, unless- they flash a smile to the air behind them, hoping the spirit would get the message. The cold leaves again, and the goosebumps that appeared on their arms, began to settle. They spend the rest of the meeting doodling- perking up again as they see everyone begin to leave.

They leave they're bag seated on the chair, and run up to the man before he can successfully slip out of the room.

"Hey!" He doesn't seem to notice, and continues. "Hey, you're Klaus, right?"

He stops in his tracks, and gives an odd look over his shoulder to them. Spinning on his heels to face the stranger.

"Oh- indeed I am, darling. Who's asking?" He grins.

"I wanted to give you this," Y/n brings up their notebook, flipping to the right page, and gently tears it from the binding. They fold it down into a small square. "Here, I think your companion will appreciate it. It's Y/n, by the way."

He looks wide eyed at them, "My companion?"

They simply smile. "I'll see you next meeting, okay?"

He blinks at them, but they're off to retrieve their bag and already walking out the door before he can say anything.

Klaus was overjoyed as he got back to the apartment he was staying at- the place of some guy he was hooking up with- pulling the slip of paper from his pocket. Smoothing out the creases as he delicately laid it on his lap.

He couldn't help to feel that Y/n drew him beautiful. He was all skin and bones, ribs poking through his skin, face hollowed. But the way his lips pursed on the page, and his eyelids were gracefully shut, lashes playfully falling with them. The hands seemed to softly play with a string on his overcoat. He'd never looked like that, he was always too many meals overdue and shaky.

He runs a finger along the piece, making sure to avoid ruining it. Ben, who had been leaning over Klaus' shoulder, finally murmurs against his ear.

"What?"

Ben scoffs, but gives him a warm smile anyways. "I said, they're pretty good."

"Yeah."

"Are you going to the next meeting?"

"Why would- oh, for Y/n? They are pretty cute," he teases.

Ben shakes his head, frowning. "For yourself. Putting some effort into this would help you, you know."

"God, I'm offended, Ben."

"Also, for Y/n, though,” Ben admits. “I think they saw me."

"No shit," he says, wide-eyed and happy. 

"I think they smiled at me," Ben's smile is brighter than Klaus had seen it for months, maybe even years. The thought sent a painful twinge through his body.

Klaus hadn't been to very many consecutive meetings. He'd been to so many types of meetings, numerous times, but they never quite stuck. He never really tried. He supposes he wasn't even trying now- he was just curious. This stranger saw Ben- or, at the very least, knew Ben was there. He had never seen Ben look so genuinely happy for something in the last eleven years than now. His eyes seemingly glowed at the prospects of being noticed.

He didn't want to get Ben's Hope's up, though. He hadn't been paying attention to the meeting too closely, nor had he seen you or your supposed interactions with his brother. He tried to get Ben to understand that you were probably crazy or just seeing things from the drugs. I mean, this is for addicts, Ben.

Ben seemed mostly bothered- annoyed- by him, than anything else. Insisting that the two of them head back for the next meeting. Klaus whined and groaned, and tried to protest- but he couldn't say no, not to Ben. At least, not for this. He'd gone against Ben's wishes countless times before.

He gets there early that day. Enough so that most people had filtered in, but the last minute ones still had a chance to get in. He'd thought Y/n would be early, but frowned at the sea of unfamiliarity. He takes one of the empty seats in the circle, absentmindedly placing one hand on the seat next to him, the other pulling at his jacket. His fingers hurt as they desperately pinch together, attempting to clutch the material between each other.

Y/n finds themself seated next to Klaus, wordlessly laying a hand over his, feeling him slowly stop the painful fidgeting. He doesn't hold back, as they cup they're hand around his- but he does let out a content and comfortable sigh. He's about to mention it, when they let go, taking out the notebook from yesterday- the meeting supervisor begins talking. 

He finds himself zoning out for most of the meeting. The light sounds of your pen hitting your paper, and the tapping of feet, and droning voices filter through his head. 

Ben doesn’t bother him much, a few words here and there, but mostly Ben found himself hovering over Y/n’s shoulder. Watching them make every gentle line, and rounded dot- making even the harshest of members appear softer, and human. (Not that they weren’t, but some members appeared so sickly or dressed too crazy, that their features began to morph into something else entirely). He admired the work in silent joy, smiling back whenever they would look towards him- though he still wasn’t certain if they could see him or not.

It’s a comment or two from another member, digging up moments from their past, when the meeting nears its end and Klaus’ anxiety hits him with full force. He was most often able to mask his feelings and play it off- but he was here, with them. He couldn’t risk making a scene. He’s all bouncy legs and a shivering body as he tries getting his mind off the meeting- off the years of his childhood he did not want to remember.

Klaus starts pinching his fingers again, till they’re white and he can feel his bones ache. Y/n doesn’t even look over, as they clumsily move their hand to stop him, this time keeping it on top long after he had stopped. They continue drawing with the other, scratching down quick lines- Klaus recognizes the figure as the supervisor. Clean-shaven face, hair dark and combed back professionally. It doesn’t have a background, maybe a line or two- and it doesn’t sport another character like Klaus’ portrait did. And, as he looks closer, it doesn’t radiate the same feeling, either. Whether that was how they felt towards the supervisor, or just today, was unbeknownst to him. What he knew though was that his was soft and kind, and this one felt dark and heavy. 

He tries asking about it, and they merely respond by attempting to turn his attention back to the meeting. Anywhere that wasn’t their paper. Klaus leaves a mental note to ask about it again later, thinking maybe they would react differently if the two of them weren’t in the middle of something. He’s afraid it will haunt him if he doesn’t. All your actions so far seem to do that to him. Puzzle him, make it hard to think about anything else- keep him up as he tries to fall asleep at night. They’re mysterious, and he wants to know more.

He likes that.

[gloomygalleon]

when will we ever have the option to “read more” on mobile?

January has been slow as ever. One of my least favourite months, but at least the days are slowly getting longer. I’m so thankful for no snow. Knocking on wood as I type that, though, the last thing I want is for a storm this weekend or something. All I’ve been doing is work and then home. Being social and an extrovert is very hard when you’re also responsible and smart enough to take covid seriously. Sometimes I wish I were more reckless and selfish. I miss the Summer of 2019. If I wasn’t working I was hiking or swimming or just up to no good. Life has changed so much since then it’s unbelievable.

When I don’t work at my tattoo apprenticeship I’m home drawing more flash. They’re all dumb little doodles but so far they’re pretty cute and what I’ve been fortunate enough to tattoo I’ve really enjoyed. I love this career path and I’m really thankful I had the guts to reach out and plead my case. My teacher is fantastic, the studio is like home to me and I’m making so many new connections throughout it all.

I’m writing here because I can’t sleep and I have some things on my mind. I started on antidepressants/anxiety medication back in October and I feel like a completely different person. It’s frustrating that I listened to the narrative of “meds make you a zombie” for so long. It’s such a generalization and it breaks my heart for those who haven’t had the opportunity to find the right medicine. Man, I was a zombie before all this. After Katherine died I would lay in bed for weeks without showering. I couldn’t move. I’d cancel plans with friends constantly because I physically couldn’t make myself do the things I enjoyed. Looking back now it’s kind of terrifying to know that that’s where I was. Even the fact that I sit and I make art every night is absolutely bonkers to me. That’s just not the behaviour I was exhibiting for a very long time. I feel like the me I’ve been chasing for years. It’s so stupid to have serotonin again- so much I didn’t realize I was missing out on. Even just having energy to get up and sit downstairs. It’s so silly how much I’ve progressed these past few months from finally taking care of my mental health. Lmao wHo KnEw!1

Anyway, yeah dude aside from working a lot and being a good law abiding citizen who isn’t out spreading my nasty germs- life in 2022 has been boring. My partner and I have been super laying low and just listening to podcasts and gaming a lot together. It’s been nice, honestly. I do have reservations for his birthday at this nice lil restaurant we enjoy and I’m hoping all things work out and we can actually go. I ordered his birthday present tonight and I am extremely excited to see his reaction. Other than that y’know, we’re just out here bein’ responsible hermits. Between him going down his career path and myself going down mine I’m really hopeful for 2022 and getting our shit together. We’re so ready to be home owners and to get our lives started and I’m excited and grateful for everything. I’m real excited and real grateful for the fact that I’m finally starting to doze off which means I can try and sleep again.

Ok no one is gonna read this but I hate the formatting/ugly ass spacing tumblr does for whatever reason when I get the return button. Fuck you, David Karp.

[cakejots]

Unstained, Chapter 4

After certain events that happened in the day, Chat Noir revealed to Ladybug that he knows who she is under the mask. Her reactions astounded him. After certain events that happened in the night, Ladybug unveiled to Chat Noir why she can’t do what he asked of her. His reactions astonished her.

Rating: T, Words: 6938. Chapters: 4/4

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

Read on AO3

Exiting the chilly confines of his ride to school, Adrien can’t wait to fall into the warmth that his friends emanate whenever he enters into their presence. They were waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase before heading to class together. Alya and Nino were talking among themselves, with Marinette slightly out of the circle listening and munching on her breakfast.

“Hey guys!” He greeted them as he arrived at their spot.

Nino fist-bumped him with a greeting, Alya warmly welcomed him, and Marinette just waved.

Adrien took a closer look at her and realised that she had dark circles under her eyes. She also looked unbelievably tired with how her eyes hardly focused on anything; he grew worried.

“Marinette, hey, did you sleep last night?”

“Don’t worry sunshine, she just woke up way earlier today to help in the bakery. She’ll be fine,” Alya conveyed what Marinette had shared earlier on.

Adrien, still concerned even with Alya’s assurance, opened his mouth to say something, only to be stopped by Marinette looking at him and lightly shaking her head, asking him to drop it. No one can know the sudden change in dynamics between them.

Adrien was clearly defiant when they talked about it yesterday, ever so slightly trying to push his luck, but he still accepted her proposal nonetheless. Though, it hurts that he can’t be there for his lady when he evidently had the power to do so.

But he wasn’t the Black Cat Miraculous holder for nothing.

They walked to their lockers to get their necessary items before heading to class. Adrien took his time to gather his items, making sure no one was left in the locker room. Alya and Nino chatted on their way out, unaware that Adrien had snatched Marinette away from their backs.

“Adrien!”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he placed her down beside the door and released his hold from her waist, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me you had to wake up earlier today? I wouldn’t have kept you up last night, would have let you get home, no questions asked.”

If he was Chat Noir right now, she would be able to see his cat ears and tail drooping down.

“Slipped my mind. Don’t worry about it, I’m doing just fine,” she smiled.

“You say that now...”

Marinette ran her fingers through his hair, “don’t worry your pretty head over this, let’s go before we’re late!”

“Marinette! You know I’m here for you, right?”

But she had already turned and left the locker room.

He huffed.

.

Adrien knew he was right to worry about Marinette. The moment he entered the classroom, she was in the middle of breaking up a fight between their classmates. True to his word, he could only sit there and watch her settle the issue like the class president she is.

He was starting to feel slightly tormented with the way things were, but he knew he had to keep his emotions in check. He didn’t want to cause more trouble than necessary and he trusted that his lady would come to him if she’s really feeling suffocated.

He’ll just try again later.

Throughout the day, Marinette attended to her classmates on issues they raised. She had also doubled down on her efforts to make sure no one gets akumatised, always on the lookout for anyone who’s feeling down and going ahead to comfort them.

The lunch bell finally rang, and Adrien was delighted that he could get to Marinette’s side. Until he remembered that he had to go back to the mansion for lunch. He cursed. He sent a text to Marinette, asking if it’s okay for her to meet up with him for the last 15 mins of lunch break.

She was okay with it.

.

His lunch was like most other days, alone, but he considered himself lucky as he’s able to get away from the mansion promptly. Adrien devoured his lunch in the most elegant way possible, Nathalie was still around after all.

The ride back to school was a blur, but he ran out of the car as soon as he saw Marinette sitting at the staircase. He was not expecting her to be here, but in the canteen instead.

“Oh, I was helping my parents, you know how hectic it can be once we have a massive order,” she filled in.

He frowned, “my lady, you could’ve told me, I would have brought a packed lunch for you.”

“Dearest Chaton, there’s no need to. I had lunch, I live in a bakery after all,” she giggled at his silliness. “Besides, that massive order is finally done, and I do wonder how you are going to bring lunch to me,” she teased.

Adrien flushed and led them to a secluded area, far away from the canteen. “A-anyway, is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want you to get overwhelmed.”

Marinette thought about it for a while, but Adrien just voiced his thoughts.

“How about the bakery? Allow me to help when there’s a massive order like this one.”

“You aren’t free either, Misterbug, don’t worry about it.” She brought her hand to the hair behind his ears and caressed it. “What you can do instead, is to make sure our classmates are okay. Reach out when they are feeling down. Same goes for you, don’t forget that.”

Adrien beamed, at her touch and at him being able to offer her his assistance. “Don’t worry Buguinette, you can count that on me.”

.

5 minutes before the end of class, Marinette told Alya to head home without her and excused herself to the toilet. Once she returned to class, the room was dark and empty, with her belongings all nicely packed and placed on her table. Marinette tiredly walked back to her seat and sat down, staring into space. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t hear the doors opening.

Marinette must’ve been worn out for the day if she didn’t acknowledge that Adrien had entered the room and plotted himself next to her.

Worried, he took hold of her hand and squeezed it. “Marinette, you’re not alone in this.”

“Mhm.” Marinette had turned her head towards him and muttered, but her eyes were not focused. Adrien was unsure if she actually knew he was there, or if she was still in a daze. At a loss on how to proceed with this, he did the only thing he knew that would get a reaction out of her.

He leaned in to gently nuzzle her cheek and purred. He continued his ministrations for a while longer before he felt a hand lightly settled itself within his hair. He stopped to look at her, Marinette now had her eyes closed and had her head slightly tilted away to give him more access. Her shoulders seemed to relax even more, and the hand that he held earlier on had squeezed back.

Adrien felt Marinette grabbed his hair and pulled his face to hers, to continue whatever he was doing to her. And he complied.

He nosed her cheek and purred, brushing his lips at any skin contact he had with her. That combination brought Marinette to pull him in even more, and Adrien changed his course to nuzzle at her neck. His free hand went to her waist and pulled her in closer, pressing her body to his and closing any gaps they had before.

“Adrien…”

Marinette sighed at the contact and he tightened his hold on her, his previously closed lips now grazing his teeth on her neck and placing open kisses wherever they went. Marinette gasped at his touch and Adrien nibbled in response.

“AHA!”

They jumped apart at the booming voice that came from none other than Alya.

“You two have been acting weird ever since this morning at the lockers—”

“W-what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Agreste. Stealing Mari from our backs?” Adrien realised that Nino was also in the classroom. “Seriously? You may be sneaky, but Marinette isn’t exactly subtle.”

He regarded Marinette, who was silently looking down. He panicked.

“A-Alya, w-wait! Not so loud!”

“What? Am I exposing something? Nino, can you believe this?”

“I-I can explain!”

“Oh rea—“

Everything that occurred in the next few minutes happened so fast that Adrien had no idea what’s going on anymore. He was currently standing in a park, hand still clutched within Marinette’s.

He just knew that Marinette had suddenly burst out laughing, grabbed his hand and their items, and ran out of the classroom.

“Oh my gosh, did you see their faces?” she cackled.

“My lady, I’m pretty sure my face right now matches theirs,” he chuckled. “Everything was in a daze.”

She laughed harder, and Adrien was delighted to see her enjoying herself at the absurdness of it all.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Minou!”

.

Marinette grinned stupidly at the fond memories she has had with Adrien earlier that day and was doodling nonsense on the homework she was trying so desperately to complete. A knock on her window brought an end to her endless replaying and doodling. She glanced at her window and went to her skylight to unlock it.

“How are you feeling, Buguinette?” Chat asked as they moved down from her bed to allow for more space.

“Oh you know, the usual. What’s that in your arms?”

“Oh! Um, just… something to remind you that I’m here always,” he said as he handed her a Chat Noir plushie and a black paw print keychain.

She took hold of them and had some ideas as to where to place them.

He scratched his neck, “it’s not much, but I hope it helps—”

Marinette tackled him to the floor, her gifts still in her hand. “Thank you so so much mon Chaton,” she enveloped him in a bear hug.

Chat took a moment to focus his sight before he wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her hair. “Anytime, my lady.”

They stayed in the position for a while before Marinette pulled back, “which reminds me!”

Chat let go and looked at her curiously. She carefully placed her gifts on her table before heading over to her drawer and took out a macaron. Chat’s tail swung excitedly at the sight of it.

“Here you go,” she smiled.

“Oh my gosh, Marinette! Thank you! May I?”

She nodded and he began peeling the plastic wrap from the macaron and took a bite.

“Hmm!” He moaned. “It’s passion fruit! My favourite flavour! And it still tastes so fresh!”

“I bake them every Sunday. Who knows when the perfect opportunity is going to come up. It finally did after 4 years,” she mumbled her last sentence.

But Chat heard it nonetheless and started crying.

“C-Chat?”

“Marinette, y-you never gave up on us.”

“Of course. Never.” She held his hands and regarded him, wiping away his flowing tears. She hugged him and kissed his forehead.

Hand in hand, with the soft and loving gaze they threw at each other, they exchanged promises that regardless of what happens in the future, they’ll have each other.

Always.