#is he... wearing... sweatpants... or am i mistaken | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dreamescapeswriting · 5 years ago

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BTS Reaction || Wearing His Clothes

Seokjin:

It was starting to get late out but you didn't want to move, you were snuggled up against Jin, your boyfriend of four months, he'd invited you round for a movie day since it was his first day off in a while and you wanted to spend as much time as possible together before you had to go back home. Jin noticed how tensed you'd gotten then glanced at the time, then back down at you, you looked so peaceful cuddled against him, he didn't want you to leave.

"Stay the night." He mumbled against your cheek as he planted soft kisses there, you giggled and then looked at the clock, it was really late so it wouldn't be a bad idea if you did.

"What about the boys?" You questioned, you didn't know if the boys would be okay with you staying over, you got along but you don't know if you got along that well.

"They won't mind, go up to bed and I'll clean up." You nodded and rushed off up the staircase towards his dorm room.

(X)

You were in the bathroom when Jin came upstairs to find you, so he started getting the bed ready for you both to go to sleep. You'd changed into one of his shirts that was hung up in the bathroom, it was big on you and you could just walk around in that and some underwear, you came out of the bathroom and Jin's eyes landed on you instantly, you weren't looking at him you were looking around the room for your phone, but his eyes widened the moment he saw you standing there in his shirt with nothing else on, your hair up in a messy bun and no make-up, you looked perfect to him.

"Jin is my phone still downstairs?" You quizzed finally looking up to meet his gaze, his eyes still on your body you looked down at yourself nervously and then looked over your shoulder at the bathroom door.

"I can go change if it's not okay?" He chuckled and walked over to you, running his hands along your waist and then up to your face, cupping your cheeks and making you look at him in the eyes.

"You look perfect." He chuckled bending down and kissing you, you giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss and making sure you were as close as possible.

Yoongi:

"Yoongi." You whined from the sofa inside of his studio, it was past 2 am now and you'd started to lose hope on getting Yoongi to go home with you,

"I have to finish this." He grumbled you sighed getting up from the sofa and over to the shelves he had, you took the washbag that was there and some clothes, you walked out of the genius lab and into the hall where Hoseok was walking past the door with a bag on his shoulder.

"He's still working?" You nodded and walked with him towards the toilets, Hoseok sighed and looked at what you were carrying.

"You're staying over?" You laughed softly and nodded,

"If he's going to stay here all night I will too." Hoseok chuckled and reached into his bag, taking out a blanket and handing it to you, you smiled at him and said thank you before going into the bathrooms to get yourself cleaned up again.

(X)

Yoongi looked down at the time on his desk, it was late...well early since it was 5 am. He groaned, turning off his PC and spinning around to see you asleep on his sofa, curled up in a ball under a BT21 blanket with one of his hoodies that was normally hung up waiting for him to change into, he sighed and came over to you, bending down and leaving a kiss on your head, you moaned and rolled over on the sofa facing the other-way, he hit the light switched and got down next to you getting under the blanket and wrapping his arms around your waist, scooting as close as possible so he wouldn't fall off the sofa in the night.

"Mmm, you finished?" You mumbled, turning into his chest and leaning your head against it, wanting to listen to his heartbeat.

"Yeah, sorry it took so long." He said back to you, pulling the hood of the hoodie over your head and pulling the strings to make you giggle, you snuggled against him some more, he smiled and kissed the top of your head again. He loved to see you wearing his clothes, whenever you did it in front of the boys he found it funny, he liked them to know who's your were even though it was just a hoodie or one of his shirts or sweatpants, you looked cute. The way the fabrics pooled around you because they were too big.

"Let's just sleep." You nodded, already starting to fall asleep on him, you were both exhausted.

Hoseok:

He always found it cute whenever you wore his clothes, it started when you first began dating and it was still happening now seven months into the relationship.

"Hobi I'm going for a shower, can I borrow one of your hoodies?" You questioned getting up from the floor and over to the ensuite, you'd been together while he was writing some rap songs and doing other bits of work.

"Why are you asking, just borrow one." He joked looking up from the sheets of paper he was holding to meet your gaze, you smiled and grabbed one of his favourites that he liked on you and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

(X)

You came back out and Hoseok was gone, you walked over to the bed and began getting it ready for you both to go to sleep, you were about to get into bed when you heard Hoseok yelling for you, you went out of the bedroom and down the hallway, walking into the living room to see Hoseok and Namjoon talking about something,

"What?" You questioned looking up to see their eyes on you, Namjoon smiled at you and you looked at Hoseok to continue but he was just staring at you, eyes drawn to the hoodie.

"I asked...you said yes." You whispered feeling as though he was annoyed at you for wearing his hoodie but he wasn't, he was staring at how well it looked on you. You'd been trying to steal that hoodie from him for a while now but he never let you because it was his favourite one, but now he could tell he'd been missing out. It didn't cling to you or anything but the way it looked on you made him feel a way he'd never felt before.

"Nevermind that." He said leaving Namjoon in the living room and taking your hand, dragging you up the staircase and into the bedroom, as soon as the door closed and you were alone his lips attached to your neck and he began to leave kisses up and down it before going to your lips.

"Fuck you always look so hot in my clothes." He sighed to you, smirking as you let out a whimper from his touch.

Namjoon:

Namjoon had called you around for lunch at the studios that morning, you took him a lunchbox and decided to have a picnic on his studio floor when he decided he wanted to come home instead, he was going away on tour soon and wanted to see you for as long as possible before he had to leave again,

"Joonie!" You giggled dragging him through the park it started raining on your long walk home from the studio, you'd always loved the rain so you grabbed him and began running through puddles and splashing him to have a little fun on the boring walk home, he chuckled along with you, chasing after you and laughing harder every time you screeched whenever he splashed you back with a puddle. You shivered a little, starting to get cold since the rain was beginning to pick up speed,

"Come on, before we get sick." He chuckled pulling you out of the park and on towards the dorms, you snuggled up to him as you ran together, one of his arms wrapped around you as you did so.

(X)

"Can I borrow some clothes?" You questioned as you shivered in his bedroom, he nodded going through his wardrobe and pulling out a white 'FG' hoodie and some boxers, handing them over to you.

"Sure," You gave him a quick kiss and began to get changed, it was nothing new. You'd changed in front of each other before, you dated after all.

"We should have a movie night in, if you're not busy." You whispered, slipping into the hoodie and looking in the mirror at yourself, the hoodie was huge over you, you didn't even need the shorts as the hoodie could have been mistaken as a dress on your small body, Namjoon chuckled looking at you, he loved how small you were compared to him, he absolutely adored the way you loved to dress up in his clothes and just lounge around in them.

"It looks like a dress." You pouted looking at him but he just smiled at you, coming over and bending down to kiss you on the lips.

"You look adorable."

Jimin:

Being best friends with Jungkook was the best, you got to spend most of your time with him or his friends, you had sneak peeks to music, though you weren't supposed to he couldn't say no to his best friend. That's where you were going to see him at the studios, he told you he wanted to see you before he went away so you agreed to go and see him for a while before work, you left your apartment without an umbrella though which was a mistake because it was starting to pour it down with rain and by the time you'd gotten to the studios you were wet through and shivering. You took out your phone to call Jungkook to let you in but he wasn't answering his phone, he was probably recording something so you waited by the door for a couple of minutes before calling him back, you took out your phone to call once again when a car went speeding past and splashing you.

"Y/N!" Jimin yelled coming to the door and letting you inside, you shivered as soon as you got against the warm air and he dragged you through the building, ignoring security and going to get you something warm to wear from his room inside the studios.

(X)

"You warm enough?" Jimin questioned sitting next to you and wrapping a blanket around you, he'd already dressed you in a pair of his sweatpants and a hoodie, leaving yours to dry on the radiators before he put you on the sofa and coming to sit with you.

"You're freezing." He whined pulling you against his chest, your heart was thumping. You'd liked Jimin since the moment Jungkook introduced you and now he was holding you close to him, you looked up at him with a shy smile and then looked back down at your hands, trying to warm them up a little.

"You look so cute in my clothes," You could have sworn your heart stopped, you looked up at him and he was already staring down at you.

"I have another idea to warm you up." He said before biting down on his lip nervously, you nodded at him wanting to know what he was talking about, he smirked before leaning down and kissing you on the lips, you kissed back and wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you, thank heavens for the car that splashed you.

Taehyung:

You rolled over to see Taehyung sleeping next to you shirtless, you smiled and ran your hand along his bare chest, leaving a small kiss, all of the images from the night before coming back to you. It was the first time you'd slept together since you got into a relationship and the night was magical, filled with passion and love. You sat up in the bed and looked around the room, you couldn't find your clothes so you grabbed Taehyung's shirt and climbed out of the bed, going down the stairs to make you both some breakfast to eat, you'd worked up an appetite after all.

(X)

Taehyung came down the stairs to find you in the kitchen, he watched as your hips swayed side to side to the music, you had Airplanes pt 2 playing softly through a speaker, singing along occasionally and dancing to different parts between cooking, he smirked leaning against the doorframe as he watched you. You were dressed in nothing but his shirt and some underwear, you looked amazing, you'd dressed in his clothes before but maybe it was because of the night before, but you looked breathtaking. The way you sang along to his part of the song, he chuckled softly as you messed up part of the choreography,

"You look, perfect baby." You jumped and looked at him, sliding him a cup of coffee and smiling as he started to dance with you, you giggled turning back to the cooker and finishing off the food for him to eat.

"Maybe I should teach you the dance again," He whispered coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing your exposed neck and smirking as you let out a whimpered moan.

"You're such a good teacher," You gasped back to him, he chuckled turning off the oven and turning you around to face him.

"I'm not hungry for food right now baby, let's go back to bed." He whispered, taking hold of your hand and pulling you out of the kitchen and back towards the staircase.

Jungkook:

Jungkook was away on tour again which meant it was back to facetime calls whenever he was free and updating each other through texts. You didn't mind of course, you were so incredibly proud of him and the boys for what they'd done and continue to do. They were amazing but you couldn't lie, you missed your boyfriend. Who wouldn't? But you made it work and that's all that was important. You rushed home after work that night to get ready for facetime, you'd missed the previous call because you'd fallen asleep while waiting for him but you were determined to see him tonight.

(X)

"I'M HERE!" You screamed to your laptop screen, you were off-screen getting changed into some PJ's while you answered the call, Jungkook was on the other side with a smile on his face, ready to tell you about what he'd done that day and wanting to hear what you'd done with yours.

"It's okay babe, take your time." You hummed before coming back into the frame and smiling at him, he looked at you and his smile dropped from his face. You blushed looking down at yourself, feeling suddenly self-conscious, you'd gotten changed into one of the hoodies he'd left behind and some shorts.

"I'll change." You whispered going to leave again but Jungkook yelled out a bunch of protests, you looked at him with a raised eyebrow, cocking your head to the side as he stared at you.

"You just...You're wearing my clothes and I know you always do but you look amazing." He licked his lips and you blushed, hiding behind your hands as he continued to stare at you.

"Kookie stop." You giggled dragging a pillow over to you and cuddling it.

"You just look so good in my clothes." He chuckled looking at you and then over his shoulder, moving away from the rest of the boys and going to sit on his own so he could talk to you in a little more privacy.

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torque-witch · 4 years ago

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Hello when will I feel less guilty about being non-binary and stop thinking I should not ever mention it publicly bc I look very feminine

I felt very much gender euphoria when people have mistaken me for a man or automatically just called me “he” when I worked in auto parts bc sexism but I don’t wear dirty flannels and work boots anymore and lazy top buns with regular ass blonde hair

Now I am an artist which is considerably more “feminine” and wear fuzzy shoes and sweatpants for comfort which is also “feminine” and pink hair which is “feminine” and I don’t drive a truck anymore 😭😭 which wasn’t “feminine”

Look my previous job was Satans asshole yes, but my gender??? I miss him???

MY GENDER

Also chronic illness so my body can’t handle being a pseudo-technician anymore so

My gender has been yeeted from me

And yes I do know that it doesn’t matter how I look and I’m quite content with this ⬆️ as an attempt to find a happy medium. But dammit I just wanna put on boot cut jeans and dirty Tim’s and make a goddamn hydraulic hose for the sake of my gender euphoria so help me god no matter how stupid that is

Like excuse me as I go on a rant but why u think I got tons of piercings and tattoos? It’s not bc I’m punk or goth it’s because I have been struggling with hating my gender appearance since I was a like 4 but growing up in a Christian household I didn’t learn about trans people until I was 22 and even then it was trivial. THAT was my avenue to blur my gender perception. To kill off feminine expectations from outsiders. To leave them with a bad taste in their mouth. To cause confusion. I don’t want people to perceive me at all.

But trans people have told me that I’m non-binary and have a shaved head as a trend and that’s it’s not real. So I listened to them. People on tumblr have said I don’t belong in the trans community as a non-binary person. So I listened to them. My workplace for 6 years was openly transphobic and talked about how they would be violent towards trans people so I stayed silent and just blended in as a “country girl” for my own safety.

Listen like everything is better now and I know who I am and that I don’t need validation from anyone and my husband supports my gender most of all. But I still miss the ways in which I could express it openly while still flying under the radar in a dangerous place. Is that weird? Probably. I just miss him and hope he’s doing okay.

#torquetalks #gender mention

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ichorizaki · 4 years ago

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002. sun&moon

genre fluff

pairing matsukawa issei x gn!reader

warnings none

word count 3.5k

synopsis when he received the letter, he didn’t know how to even find you. there was no trace of you yet you lived in his mind ever since that night, until fate chances upon him with a cheeky wink.

With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.

When he saw how comfortably you dressed, as he had instructed you to, Issei couldn’t help but find you a little too adorable in the same shirt that you wore on the night when you first met. It had been a week since he had asked you out on a date. Because of schedules, you couldn’t quite agree on a date that would be perfect for the both of you. He made it up to you with walking you to and from classes, facetiming you whenever you were not in class and just learning with each other even if what was being taught were completely different. He didn’t care if you both had to push back the date for days—spending time with you, carving time out of your busy schedules were more than enough for him.

He had a morning lecture and a noon tutorial that lasted about two hours, and then he was done for the day. You, on the other hand, usually had a morning lecture and about three hours to spare before having a four-hour seminar in the afternoon that dragged on to the evening. Usually. Your excited voice was the first thing he heard in the morning through a voice message, a lazy smile growing on his face as he lay in bed, which then turned into a smile of excitement once he registered your words: your professor didn’t feel like turning up and classes were cancelled for the afternoon.

There you stood before him, hair messy but your skin glowing from a good rest. He figured you were asleep while he was in class and all the way through till an hour ago from your lack of texts. While you were clad in a pair of sweatpants and the white shirt with a faded stain from the night you met, he was dressed in a maroon henley and ripped jeans.

“Is it just me or are you dressed less comfortably than I am?” You cocked an eyebrow upward, walking towards his figure that leaned against the side of his car, phone in hand with his keyring looped through his thick pinky finger. The corner of his lips tugged upwards into a lazy smile, his head tilting to the side in amusement. “Did I miss a memo or something?”

Issei stuffs his phone into his pocket and gently kicks himself off of his car to meet you halfway. He wrapped his arms around your smaller figure as did yours around his before you cutely buried your face in his chest to inhale his scent. Your shampoo smelled like coconuts and mixed berries and he couldn’t help but smile at that.

“I just wanted you to be comfortable for our date, angel.” You looked up at him through your lashes, chin resting on his chest and his heart fluttered at how close you both were. Neither of you went beyond hugging and knuckles brushing against each other’s shyly. He winked at you and the telltale sign of a blush began creeping across your cheeks.

“Where are we headed to?”

“Anywhere you’d like to.” You let go of him, looking at him curiously. He simply shrugged before guiding you to his car. He had no time to send it in for a wash for such an impromptu date, but the interior was cleaned up and washed with the scent of his cologne to make it appear cleaner. “We knew the deepest parts of each other that night, but I wanna know the simple stuff about you. Like what’s your birthday, what’s your favourite food, what kinda stuff you look for in a potential boyfriend, and whatnot.” He opened the door for you and your lower lip was caught between your teeth in a toothy grin full of adoration.

“Right, like those and whatnot,” you echoed. He helped you into the passenger seat, making sure you were neatly tucked inside before closing the door firmly. All that he had managed to learn about taking someone out on a date were from the Korean romantic comedies that his sister made him watch with her. He just hoped that it sufficed because it was mainly clichéd tropes.

You did make him nervous. He had to mentally reprimand himself to get a grip and keep his cool when he rounded the car before getting into the driver’s seat right next to you. You had already made yourself comfortable, flip flops on the floor and your knees up to your chest and nestling in your seat. The way your skin glowed under the honey-coloured lights of the streetlamps, clear silver bleeding through and illuminating your stunning face was simply something out of a movie. You did make him nervous, but he was never going to admit it out loud.

“So,” he began, catching the faintest of a tremor in his voice. Shit. He cleared his throat while buckling himself to his seat but then noticed that you weren’t wearing the seatbelt. Naturally, he unbuckled his seatbelt before reaching over to tuck you into the seat, pressing the end into its compartment next to your waist. It was all second nature to him, which was why when he caught himself in the action, he continued and finished the job before leaning back with a bashful smile on his face. “Sorry.”

“No!” You quickly blurted out. Issei’s smile changed into an amused smirk. He watched as the pink blooms red instead across your cheeks. “I . . . ugh. Issei, you’re always making me so flustered.” You grumbled in defeat under your breath, nose upturned and head swiveling away to avoid his gaze. He was sure you were just trying to hide your blushing face.

“Aww, don’t be like that, angelface,” he cooed. “C’mon, where d’ya wanna go? McDonald’s, Yoshinoya, CoCoICHI?” The engine of his car hummed to life with the sharp turn of the key in the ignition. His eyes shifted from the rear-view and wing mirrors, checking for any pedestrians and cars. The sun had set long ago yet there were still students roaming the campus, most of them coming back from classes or making quick trips to the 7-11 down the road.

“Let’s have McDonald’s. I’m craving for some fries.” He hummed at your suggestion. “We could eat in the car—on the topmost level of a parking lot or some park, I dunno—and listen to music and watch the night sky.” His heart fluttered at your suggestion. It was his first ideal date, described by you, just as he did to you on the night you both first met. His eyes flit over to you to see you already looking back at him, a huge cheeky grin on your face as if to proudly tell him that you never forgot.

He never fought the smile that crept upon his face, lower lips caught between his teeth as he stepped on the gas pedal.

“Aww, Issei, are you smiling? Did I make Matsukawa Issei smile?” You teased, giddy giggles slipping in between your words while you pinched his arm as he drove. He rolled his eyes at your antics, shaking his head at how enthusiastic you were. Could he blame you? He was just as excited as you are—he just wasn’t so willing to express that openly. “What are the vibes for today, Sei?”

His thick dark eyebrow quirked upward at the new nickname. Sei? It was the first time he’s been given such a nickname, but he wasn’t necessarily complaining. Maybe it was in the way that you said his name that has him so intoxicated, like your voice was the only thing that was keeping him together. His stunned silence you must have mistaken for discomfort, because you were suddenly apologising for calling him Sei and that you should’ve asked first and—

“Hey,” he softly interrupted you. “You can call me Sei. You’ll be the only one calling me that.” His eyes briefly left the road to look at you and he noticed the way your lips pursed out into a cute little pout.

“Eyes on the road . . .” He ignored you, lifting his hand from the steering wheel to give you a gentle pet on the top of your head. You were so flustered that it was just too adorable!

“And today’s vibes will be decided by you, baby.”

Issei heard a tiny grumble that he couldn’t quite decipher from you. He all but chuckled gently. Tonight was going to be spectacular and it was all thanks to you. He was finally taking the person of his dreams out on a date. He knew that it probably wouldn’t be any different than that night, but he didn’t care. Time spent with you was golden and he would never take it for granted ever again.

Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine.

When you first let it slip that you had sent more than one letter, you had expected Issei to be upset. He, too, expected himself to be upset. But for some reason, as the both of you sat on the couch of your living room, he couldn’t. He should be, but he wasn’t, and it confused him, especially knowing that a number of his friends had also received the same letter.

Maybe it was your reasoning—that you fell too hard a little too fast—and he couldn’t blame you for that. He couldn’t control who you fell for, nor could he control your feelings.

The both of you had your legs tangled with each other, his slightly hairier legs that you had always insisted on shaving tickling the skin of yours. You both faced each other seated on the couch, you with a book in hand and him just mindlessly scrolling through the Netflix catalogue to see what was in store. It was the first day of spring break, the scent of freshly blooming flowers dancing in the air as were the birds and bees.

He noticed the way you avoided his gaze, chin tucked into your chest, the page that sat in between the pads of your thumb and index finger shaking ever so slightly as you ran your two fingers up and down. You were nervous. He didn’t blame you for it.

Issei swallowed a deep breath. Using your tangled feet as leverage, he pulled you towards him, your body lurching forward until you fell square into his laps. He had his eyes on your face, watching for any signs of discomfort before continuing.

“Did you kiss any of the other recipients of the letters?”

“What– no!” You fervently shook your head. His hands were firmly planted on your waist, yours on his chest and fisting at the fabric of his shirt.

“Do you love me?”

“Matsukawa Issei, of course I love you.” The fervour in your eyes, the drop in your voice and the sternness of your whisper told him that what you said was indeed true, and that was more than enough.

“You love me, and I love you. That’s enough.” The corner of his lips tugged upwards into a lazy smile. He noticed the crystalline barrier over your stunning (e/c) eyes, stray (h/c) strands framing your beautiful face. “May I kiss you?” You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut and his heart fluttered at how cute you were.

He finally presses his lips to yours and he could tell the desperation from you to tell him that you love him and nobody else. Your hands travelled up his chest and to the back of his neck, the action alone sending shivers up his spine as you toyed with his dark hair at the base of his scalp. One hand gently moved up from your waist to your jaw, gently cradling your smaller form while he leaned back against the armrest he was propped up against. His tongue swiped along your lower lip, the muscle hot and wet, and he took you by surprise by gently nibbling on it instead of letting his tongue explore your mouth before pressing another kiss to your sweet lips.

He brushed the strands of your hair away from your face when he slowly pulled away, finding pleasure in the way you chased his lips for more. Your faces were both merely inches apart, foreheads pressed against each other and hot breaths gently fanning against cheeks. The way you constantly looked at his lips longingly, tongue swiping across your own and your lips jutting out into a pout, had him wanting to kiss you again but he had to stop himself from doing so.

“My eyes are up here, angel,” he teased. The pad of his thumb and his index finger cradles your chin, gently coaxing you to look at him directly. You flushed under his gaze, squirming cutely in his laps. “Listen, I can’t control who you fell for. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous, but that’s as far as it goes, okay? You love me and I love you, and that’s all that I care about.”

You melted under his gaze, shoulders slumping. Your lips pursed together and twisted to the side, a small habit that you do whenever you realise he’s right but you can’t help but feel guilty. He smiled, hoping that you would too.

“Plus, I’ve had my fair share of crushes too, you know.” He shifted so that he was seated upright and you were still on his laps. Issei felt his cheeks and the tip of his ears flush ever so slightly, suddenly aware of the fact that your gaze was upon him, twinkling with intrigue. With the intent to make you feel better and less guilty about yourself, he told you about some of his old crushes. His first celebrity crush, his first elementary school crush, the cute barista at that café in his old neighbourhood that he only saw for a week . . he told you that your feelings for the other recipients were valid and reminded you yet again that even despite that, as long as you love him as he loves you, there’s genuinely nothing wrong with that.

With this candle, I will light your way into darkness.

When the organ sang its first note, he turned to look at you from where he stood. There you were, walking down the aisle with a bouquet of your favourite flowers. Your face was obscured by a white lace veil that you insisted on wearing, the ensemble that you had on fitting your figure seamlessly. Yours was the colour of pure white, detailed with lace and gold, and it matched his own suit of white, his tie a satiny gold and his collars sporting lace.

Issei couldn’t help the tears from falling, teeth digging into the flesh of his lower lip as he watched you walk slowly, the heels of your chosen shoes clicking against the thinly carpeted marble tiles. His tears clouded his vision, a stunning vibrato of colours as the music filled his ears. He still couldn’t believe that you said yes to spending the rest of your life with him even after being engaged for over two years because of your grad studies.

He wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his blazer. He heard a disapproving tsk from over his shoulder, knowing all too well that it was from Hanamaki Takahiro. Once his vision cleared, he found you right before him, lifting the veil from your face and letting it fall over the back of your head and oh, how beautiful you are. Nothing in his vocabulary could ever fully encapsulate the true beauty that is you.

Your hands moved to grasp his firmly and he was thinking of nothing but you and how you’re finally going to bear his name with yours. You were ethereal underneath the midsummer morning sun, stained glass painting you in luminescent colours and casting a breathtaking glow upon you. He couldn’t see anyone and anything else but you. The officiant’s words fell on deaf ears—he didn’t hear what she was saying. He didn’t hear the snickering from his best man, either.

With this ring, I shall ask you to be mine.

“Issei.” Of course you were the one to snap him out of his haze.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat. It was agonising to him how he had to tear his gaze from you. He just wanted to keep staring at you and admiring you, but that’s okay. After the wedding, he could do that all he wanted. He didn’t care about the other parts. “What was that again?”

Laughter erupted in the small town church.

The officiant smiled, obviously amused by the two young newlywed-to-bes. She repeated herself once more, her grey eyes reading off the book in her wrinkly hands. He was impatient, toes curling underneath the suffocating leather of the rented Oxford shoes he was forced to wear. If it were up to him, he would have worn his everyday Vans.

He had nearly forgotten all of his vows, stuttering and losing himself in his thoughts halfway through his sentences. He was a complete mess compared to you, who giggled and laughed but encouraged him nonetheless to finish before you did the same. You were far more eloquent and prepared than he was, being the one in charge of organisation and stuff like that in your relationship. He had expected you to hide a piece of paper with your vows among the flowers and it didn’t surprise him when you did pull out a small roll within the petals.

“L/N Y/N.” Her voice boomed, demanding for his attention once again. “Do you take Matsukawa Issei to be your spouse?”

“I do.” Could your smile get any brighter? Because he swore he saw it glimmer.

“Matsukawa Issei.” She continued, “Do you take L/N Y/N to be your spouse?”

“Fuck, yes. Please just announce us as spouses, I wanna kiss Y/N already.”

“I am getting to it. If you’d just let me–”

He couldn’t wait. Oh, no he couldn’t. Issei’s hand, now proudly boasting a wedding ring, moved to cradle your jaw as the other found its home on your waist, pulling your body flush to his. The second your lips met, it was like the first time he’d kissed you—full of sparks, sending butterflies in his stomach a-fluttering and so full of love. He heard the cheers and claps from the guests seated; his family, his friends, as were yours, all beyond happy that the both of you had found your forever in each other.

When he finally pulled away, your arms looped around his neck and resting on his shoulders, you pouted.

“Another one, please, my spouse?” Fuck, did he love hearing that from you. Who was he to deny you of that? He was absolutely, irrevocably, unapologetically in love with you—first his Bonnie, then his sun, and now his forever. His lips found yours once again, sealing your fate into the stars and the heavens. From the one who was your escape, to the one whom you’re escaping with.

✎ ❝TO ALL THE BOYS!

THE LETTER FINDING, BONNIE

would you like to try another route?

#matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei x y/n #matsukawa issei fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu seijoh #matsukawa issei #hq #bbthots #꒰⚡️꒱ ⨾ zeus’ thunderbolt #꒰🍀꒱ to all the boys

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loverontheleft · 4 years ago

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Birthday Oral

Found this while looking for something else. I literally can't remember if I ever posted this or not. If I did, I can't find it anywhere in my tags or on my Masterlist. Sorry if it's a repeat. And...surprise, I guess, if it's not.

I know this is by request but I can’t find the actual request. Birthday sex with lots of oral.

Brendon x reader

Warnings: language and dirty talk, oral sex, male masturbation

Word count: 1.5k

-||-

“Happy birthday...to you…” his lilting purr comes out as a perfect impression of Marilyn before he licks you slowly, moaning at your taste. Your eyes flutter open as he licks you again, even slower this time - his tongue drags over you and the tip flicks against your clit, making you clutch at the sheets in your drowsy haze. Wrenching himself away from the delta of your thighs, he crawls up the bed, shirtless and wearing those grey sweatpants you’re obsessed with. Your eyes are half-open and you giggle sleepily as your boyfriend stretches himself out over you. “Happy birthday...to you. Happy...birth...day...dear Y/n…haaaaappy birthday...to...you.” He kisses you softly, tugging at your lower lip gently before working his way down your neck. “It’s midnight, which means I can officially start spoiling you. We agreed - and by that I mean you forced me to accept - nothing before your birthday, so I am taking every technicality I can,” he warns you. “I’m going to inundate you with love and adoration all day today.”

“Hi baby,” is all you manage, head lolling back onto the pillow with a soft whine as his fingers slip down your body and into your heat. “Oh, Brendon…” your hands stroke his back and he nods, nibbling on your collarbone. “That feels good...both - fuck, fingers and mouth…so nice…” He grins against your neck, kissing gently.

“It’s my girl’s birthday. Gonna make it the best ever.” He pauses. “The best ever so far.” You nod breathlessly, moaning as his fingers curl. “Fingers okay, honey? I can get back down there and eat my baby out if-“

“No, no,” you pant, toes curling. “Tongue feels - tongue makes me come so hard - need to warm up to that,” you tell him with a laugh and he joins you, keeping his fingers thrusting. “Oh god yeah, Brendon, honey - do that, keep doing that!” You’re squirming and moaning as his fingers spread and curl inside you, pressing forward and rubbing slightly. Your mouth drops open as your back arches; you’d have thought you’d be used to the things he does to your body by now, but every time he manages to make it feel different and new, but consistently fucking amazing.

“I’m gonna use my mouth, Kitten,” Brendon warns you as his lips leave your collarbone and move down between your breasts, over your stomach, and finally settling between your legs. “Need to taste my girl. Need to taste my Kitten. Gonna die if I can’t feel you come from my tongue. But more importantly...you want it. And you can handle it. I know you can.” Eyes locked on yours, he presses forward and rubs his tongue gently over your clit before slipping in between his fingers. The sensation makes you gasp and squeal and rock under his touch; you don’t know how you got so lucky. He’s moving with you, full lips sliding against your heat as his tongue rolls and curls over you. You’re moaning now, low and needy, both hands in his hair with your legs spread wide, knees bent as you work yourself back against his mouth like he loves. He presses closer, and when you look down, just the sight of him, eyes closed in utter bliss, mouth moving frantically and making the dirtiest sounds as he eats you out is enough to have you bucking hard and panting his name. “Don’t come,” he groans in one of the moments where he pauses to breathe hard, giving one long lick and rubbing the tip of his tongue against your clit teasingly.

“Bren, it’s my birthday,” you whine, chest heaving. “Don’t hold out on me on my birthday, baby. Please, please let me come.”

“No, my love,” he tells you, kissing your inner thighs, both slick. “I promise, you’ll come. I just want you to really need it.”

“I do need it,” you protest, believing that your need is evident in your voice. And if he can’t hear it in your voice, surely he can see it in your wide eyes, swollen-from-biting lower lip, and taut nipples. “I need it so badly.”

“Yeah? My Kitten needs to come?” He smiles at you adoringly from between your legs. “I think I believe you. My sweet Kitten wouldn’t lie to me.” He blows you a kiss before lowering his mouth back to where you need it most. He doesn’t hold back; if you were coherent enough to use metaphors, you’d describe this as going from zero to sixty. He’s all in, a hand curled on each thigh, mouth moving seamlessly against your heat and tongue expertly breaking you down to a quivering, whimpering wreck. He’s pushing you closer and closer with every swipe of his tongue; before you can even warn him, your thighs are snapping shut around his head as your back bows, head presses into the pillow and lips part in silent ecstasy.

“-fuck! Brendon!” Your voice rips from you and fills the room; as you come undone, he groans and licks eagerly, your name coming from his mouth. You’re trying to muffle your shrieks of pleasure and he’s rutting against the mattress while he laps at you. “Yes, fuck Brendon, yes,” you moan after a moment, catching your breath.

“Love that,” he manages, rolling onto his back with concerted effort. “Love making my girl come like that.” You look down at him between your legs, sprawled out, one arm bent awkwardly above his head so he can trace your slick entrance with two fingers while his other hand curls tightly around his cock, pumping hard. His tongue traces over your inner thigh, moaning as the feel and taste of you combined with his hand bring him close to the edge.

“Bren-“ you protest, trying to move so you can touch him and he silences you with one quick, scolding sound.

“Nuh uh, he says after a moment. “My baby isn’t lifting a finger today.”

“But what if going down on you makes me happy?” You pose the question innocently, and he groans. “You know it does. You know how happy Kitten is when you let her suck you off.” He considers this but shakes his head.

“Not yet. I’m not even going to let myself come,” he tells you. At your quizzical look, he laughs breathlessly. “Gotta take care of you first.” You argue that he has taken care of you, and he rolls his eyes as his hand slows. “If you think,” and he rolls back over, kissing your inner thigh tenderly, “that I’m only gonna have you come one time then you, my sweet girl, are sorely mistaken.”

“Mmmm,” you purr, wiggling in place. “Not sore, honey. In fact,” and you reach down between your legs to ruffle his hair affectionately. “I don’t remember the last time you spanked me sore.” He grins up at you as he props himself up on his elbows as he mouths over you, tongue sliding softly.

“Is that the birthday girl making a request?” His eyes twinkle at you from between your thighs and you laugh delightedly. “Does my birthday girl want to be spanked?”

“Hmmmmm.” You pretend to think, before locking eyes with him and tangling a hand in his hair. “Not yet. Want you to finish what you’re starting down there, honey.” He groans and tells you he’ll finish it gladly. Sure enough, he’s all over you, moaning and gasping and panting, fingers and tongue working urgently and within minutes, you’re clutching his head with both hands and rocking shamelessly against his mouth. “Brendon, baby, make me come!”

He groans your name against you and licks hard one last time before letting his tongue flick back and forth rapidly over your clit as his two fingers curl. Your squeal is piercing and your back arches all the way off the mattress as you press yourself to his mouth, whimpering softly and bucking against him. “That’s my good girl,” Brendon whispers, licking his lips with a pleased expression on his face.

“That’s my good man,” you counter with a soft laugh. “I didn’t do anything but come. You on the other hand…” you laugh again when he shifts to his knees and makes a bow, smirking at you. “You worked hard.”

“Worth it,” he murmurs, crawling up the bed to snuggle against you. “Worth it to see you feel so good. You good with going back to sleep for a while, sweet girl?” He smiles at you sleepily as you rake your hands through his messy hair. “Promise I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.” He kisses you softly and you melt against him, sighing in pleasure as your tongues move together. “Happy birthday, Y/n,” Brendon whispers against your lips, one hand moving to cup your face. As you part, he brushes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re my whole world; you know that, right? You’re my absolute everything. And that,” he says with one last soft kiss, “is why I’m going to make this the best birthday ever.”

“Best birthday ever so far,” you correct with a slight yawn.

“You remembered,” he says, a proud, sleepy smile playing on his lips.

“I remembered,” you agree, and with that, you’re half-asleep again; he’s sprawled over you, one hand on your hip and the other thrown gracelessly over your head. You’ve got an arm thrown across his back and a leg hitched high and angled around his waist. “You're off to a damn good start,” you whisper, letting yourself fall asleep tangled up with him.

#brendon urie #brendon urie smut #brendon urie imagine #brendon x reader #birthday sex #oneshot #flashfic #flashfiction #smut

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koko-bopp · 5 years ago

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Selfless

mark tuan x male!reader

word count - 1.5K

genre - non idol!au | angst-ish? | fluff | friends to lovers

contains - bisexual!mark, unrequited love?, self-doubt, happy ending.

I also had to change the ending upon the request, I just didn't know how I was going realistically paint the ending so I had to cut out the last part. Seoyoon wasn’t emotionally harmed in the making of this fic.

synopsis - You care for your friends more than anything, so when your best friend asks you to ask out Mark Tuan on her behalf, you do just that, because she’s your best friend; even if you have one big crush on Mark Tuan. Maybe you’re just too selfless sometimes/

"Seoyoon," you frowned. It was more of a pout with a whine, but you continued, "Why can't you do it?"

"Awe! C'mon, please, just think of it as a favour," Seoyoon begged, she was holding your hand and shaking it. You guys were at the shopping center, ready to exit the food court with Boba tea and macarons. She stepped in front of you, shaking your hand once again, but literally shaking like shaking a tin, she began pouting harder, “Please, you’re better friends with him than me, can you just ask him if he likes me or something? Initiate something? Pretty please, [Y/N].”

It was kinda funny, you and Seoyoon have been mistaken as a couple more times than you can count, you two once jokingly acted like a couple just to get the discount on Valentine’s day at the pancake parlour. But, Seoyoon has a crush on Mark, and unknown to her, you have a crush on him too.

But you’ve hidden it from her for a while, even though you’ve liked him for much longer, you kinda just ignored that side of your emotions for the sake of your friend. She doesn’t know either, so you don’t have any bad blood for her, it’s just a little bit... inconvenient.. but the friendship you have with the woman matters more to you than some boy; even if it’s Mark Tuan.

You sighed for a moment, blinking away from your friend who was making pleading eye contact with you, “... Yoon, I don’t know, isn’t it a bit weird for me to ask?”

“Please, [N/N]?" She tried one last time, her blonde hair bouncing as she turned left and right in her spot, the shimmery eyeshadow on her eyelids being more seen as her bangs moved away from her eyes, "I'll buy pizza for our, what? Eighth–?"

"Ninth," You chuckled, interrupting, but ultimately letting her continue.

"Ninth, Haikyuu marathon, okay?" She chimed, brining up her fifth finger, "Pinky promise."

You scoffed with a defeated grin in your face, "Pinky promise," you say, wrapping your pinky finger around hers.

She seemed sufficed with your answer, smiling in glee as she wrapped her arm around yours as you two exited the food court. She rested her head on your shoulder, bringing the straw of her Boba tea to her lips, "Thank you, [Y/N]. I really appreciate it," she added.

"Of course," you said, and she didn't notice the small yet saddened frown on your lips.

-`.°

"Hey, Mark," you grinned, walking into your friend's room. He had his books scattered across his bed a highlighter sitting on his ear and typing away on his phone with a fruit roll-up sticking out from his mouth like a dragon's tongue.

He looked up at you, at first out of curiosity; wondering who was entering his room, then went into panic-mode; to quickly chew and swallow the roll-up while moving the books on his desk. He wasn't expecting you, clearly; you come over to see the guys every so often, but it was close to ten at night, you'd usually let Jaebeom know you're coming over and then Jaebeom would let him know that you're coming over. You probably came on short notice.

You could help but laugh gently at his behaviour, before coming inside and sitting on the space he'd made for you on his bed. He'd even crossed his legs to allow you to take as much room as you wish. He smiled awkwardly, picking up his phone then setting it back down, "What's up? You're, er, do you need something?"

You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat, "Not really, I just wanted to see you."

You two were never really alone together, now that you think about it. Maybe that one time at the bar; you said you'd watch everyone's stuff and Mark had said that he didn't want you to be all by yourself, so you two kind of just enjoyed each other's company. Or maybe that time where Mark was cooking eggs in the kitchen and you'd come up behind him to observe, you'd accidentally slept over during a movie marathon and Mark had told you that you could sleep in his bed; poor boy slept on the couch, you felt so bad.

"You wanted to see me?" Mark repeated, a bit of shock in his voice, "What, like, out of the goodness of your heart?"

You turned to him a bit more, taking your feet off the floor so you were fully facing him, your legs crossed as you shrugged, "I mean, it's a mix between wanting to see you and needing to talk to you.."

Mark blinked for a moment, then leaned in a bit, folding his arms by placing them on his knees, "Ight, go on. I'm all ears."

Why was he so handsome? He wasn't even trying; a simple dull-navy hoodie with sweatpants, he was wearing socks but one of them were slipping off his heel, his hair was a mess— a good mess, like the kind you wanna ruffle more to make it a bigger mess then just comb your hair through it just for fun? There was a scrunchie on his wrist too, Yugyeom probably gave it to him just to get his hair out of his face while he studied.

You realised you were staring, and Mark was looking at you patiently. You fought back at your own snicker your own thoughts. You're doing this for Seoyoon, you told yourself. "Mark, you're single, right?"

Oh my god, the day is finally here, Mark bought himself closer to you, his eyes bright in anticipation, "Yes. Yes, I am."

You gulped. This is for your best friend, you reminded yourself, "Are you.. interested in anyone right now?" You asked.

Mark grinned, "Yes. Yes, I am."

"Oh," you mumble. Your heart kind of sank a little. Of course he did, there's probably a dozen people out there worth his time. Maybe it's still worth a shot, though, "You do? You do. I mean, of course you do, you're a catch, somebody would've definitely have caught your interest—"

Mark moved his head a little, making a stretched-out version of the sound you make when you burn yourself, practically correcting your claim, but ultimately interrupting you, "—Yeah, well, this person; I gotta tell you. Immaculate. Everything I could hope for in a human."

"Mark," you said, the little ping of sadness in your voice being noticed by yourself, but you were hoping it wasn't noticed by the man in front of you. "This is stupid," You mumble out loud, but to yourself. Part of you knew you probably wouldn't have been able to do this anyway, but you tried your best and you knew Seoyoon would understand. You stand up, indicating your aim to leave, but turn to Mark before you do so, "..Sorry.. I should go."

"[Y/N], hold on a second, why– what's wrong?" Mark gets up too, verbally stopping you from exiting the room.

You cross your arms over your cheat, looking down at the floor. You were hesitant to talk, but you felt Mark ease his way closer to you, a comfortable distance but you wouldn't mind if he came closer.

This isn't about me, you reminded yourself. You huff, "Seoyoon has a crush on you, and you know, me being a bit closer to you than her, I just wanted to know if maybe you're interested in her."

Mark's expression dropped. He was practically frowning at the answer, it wasn't what he was looking for. Sure, he admired Seoyoon, respected her as an individual and would even call her his friend, but your answer wasn't what he was looking for. Mark finally spoke; "You don't.. You don't like me?"

Your eyes shot up, "What? No, of course I like you, you're a great guy and–"

"—I mean, like-like. You don't have a crush on me?"

You paused, "I'm not here for me, Mark."

"Okay. But I like you, [Y/N]. I've literally liked you for so long," Mark asserted. He really did, and it disappointed him beyond belief when you revealed your intentions, "I thought that maybe you were here to say that you like me too.."

You were suprised without a doubt, but you didn’t feel as though it was right to express your honest thoughts, part of you told you that you’d be selfish by doing so.

Mark took another step forward, taking your hands out of the fold, holding them softly while leaning his head down a bit to get you to look at him properly, “Stop being so selfless for a second. Just.. tell me; do you like me too?”

You nodded, still trying to avoid looking at him, “Yeah. I like you too,” It was just above a whisper, but you knew Mark could hear it.

“I’ll talk to Seoyoon, [Y/N]. She’ll understand. Seoyoon’s passionate, but she puts you before herself too,” Mark suggests and explains. He’s not wrong either. Mark placed a finger under your chin, lifting your head up to have you lock eyes with him. “I like you, [Y/N].”

You smiled softly at Mark, caressing your thumb on his hand, “I like you too.”

#mark is my bias from got7 now 😌#look at him #i wanna boop his cheeks and run my hands through his hair or oof so many wants so many needs in this life #mark tuan x male reader #mark x male reader #mark x reader #got7 mark #mark got7 #got7 x male reader #x male reader #got7 #mark tuan #got7 mark tuan #mark tuan got7 #male reader #got7 fluff

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fanfic-corner · 4 years ago

Text

Wrapped In Red

Merry Christmas, @masterofevilmonkeyness! I’ve really enjoyed writing your secret santa for @destielsecretsanta2020 this year, and it has actually ended up being the longest fic I have ever written!

First of all, here’s the playlist. My friend found some perfect songs for the different scenes, and we had a lot of fun trying to find songs with specific vibes!

Without further ado, here’s the fic. And, if you’d prefer, the link to it on AO3.

{o0o}

“So you’ll do it?” his brother’s voice crackles though Dean’s cracked phone, and he sighs. So yeah, maybe he hasn’t been on a case in a while and has been going slowly insane just hanging around the bunker, but he also doesn’t want to leave Cas alone. Since his grace had faded completely a few days ago, the former angel had hardly left his room, and Dean wasn’t sure what he could do to help.

He rubs his forehead, already feeling a headache coming on simply from this conversation, and replies, “I’ll ask Cas.”

“Okay, text me if you’re going,” Sam responds, the phone making the muffled noises that Dean has learnt means that he is holding his phone on his shoulder, freeing his hands to talk to Eileen.

“Stop worrying, anyway,” Dean tells him, cracking his back as he stands up. “You’re on holiday. Leave the cases for a while, and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Alright, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Dean slips his phone into his back pocket and wanders down the hallway, so engrossed in his plan to invest in some thick socks because the bunker floor is freezing that he nearly walks straight into Cas. His dark hair sticks up in every direction and he is wearing an old Zeppelin shirt of Dean’s and a pair of Sam’s sweatpants, which look like they are being held up by some kind of miracle. Paired with the bags under his eyes which are so dark that Dean mistakes them for bruises, he could be mistaken for a ghost.

“Hey, uh,” Dean stutters, not sure what to say. “Sam has a case that I was thinking of going on, but we don’t have to, we can just pass it on to Garth or-”

“I’ll go with you,” Cas interrupts, his voice hoarse and croaky.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don’t look...great. No offense.”

“I’m fine, Dean.” Cas’ steely blue eyes had always been able to pull off a frighteningly good stare, and Dean just decides to go along with it. It would do them both good to get out of the bunker, in any case.

“Okay,” he agrees, “shall we go in about an hour? That’ll give me enough time to pack for both of us and you enough time to have a shower.”

Cas nods, and they part ways, Dean watching the angel hoist his borrowed pants up and disappear around the corner before shaking his head and fishing his phone out to text Sam.

We’ll take it. Send me the details, setting off in an hour.

{o0o}

Dean had tried his very best to hold a conversation when they set off on the fourteen hour drive, but he had long given up and they were only at the two hour mark. Every question he asked so far had either gone unanswered or had been graced with a monosyllabic response. It was like trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall. Well, no one could fault him for trying.

Flicking his wrist out lazily, he turns on the radio without looking with the kind of graceful expertise that only comes from years of driving his baby at night. It takes a full ten seconds for him to realise that the sound of jingle bells is coming from the speakers before he groans. “Nope.”

A surprisingly warm hand shoots out to stop him before he can turn it off, and Dean looks up in surprise at Cas’ imploring face. “Please can we listen to it?”

Considering what the dude had lost recently - and the fact that apparently his puppy eyes are almost as effective as Sam’s - Dean was hardly going to deny him this one thing. He did, however, have one condition. “Okay, I’ll leave it on, but only if you fish out my Christmas mixtape from the box.”

Dean never took his eyes off the road, but he was acutely aware of the way Cas stared at him for a moment before excitedly rummaging through the old box of tapes. Eventually, he pulls it out, admiring the battered stickers and fading drawings that he and Sam had added when they made it all those years ago. Cas gently slides it in and the first few notes of Mariah Carey grace the air.

“Hell yeah,” Dean says, grinning wildly. “You, Castiel, are about to be educated in some proper Christmas music.”

By the time the mixtape finishes, they are both in a much better mood, so Dean decides it is probably a good idea to stop for a little bit to get some snacks and some gas. Frowning, Cas informs him that he needs the toilet, before disappearing towards the nasty looking bathroom. Dean can’t help but feel bad for him; as much as he loves being human, he knows it must be annoying to suddenly have the weird experience of a human body. They always seemed to hurt or need something, and he could tell that Cas found the whole thing incredibly repetitive and exasperating.

The gas station is like every other gas station Dean has ever seen; empty, with a layer of grime that seemed to cover everything and the bright lights that ensured that no matter what time of day it was, it always seemed to look the exact same. This one, however, is also covered in Christmas decorations. Glittery tinsel and rainbow paper chains swing from the ceiling, the air conditioning coaxing them into a gentle dance. Fake snow covers every surface, and flashing fairy lights force him to blink and look away.

Dean moves on autopilot, picking up snacks that Cas hasn’t tried yet and a couple of bottles of water, before reaching the counter. He has to yell to the cashier - who is decked out in a festive jumper and Santa hat - in order to be heard over the deafening Christmas music.

“Here,” she practically sings, disappearing into the back room for a second before reappearing with a ridiculous pair of reindeer antlers. “These are for you, sweetie! No charge. Cheer up, it’s Christmas!”

Dean tries to refuse the antlers, but the lady - Lucy, her name tag reads - is not taking no for an answer, so eventually he gives in, telling himself that it is just so he can leave this Christmas Hell and get back to driving. Cas is waiting for him outside, leaning on the car and watching as the first few flakes of snow start to fall.

Dean hesitates for a moment before offering the antlers to him. Cas just stares at them, his head tilted to one side. Sighing, Dean just steps closer and puts them on Cas’ head, laughing when the bells jingle as he tries to look up at them without taking them off. He slips his phone out and sneaks a picture of the bewildered former angel, hastily putting it away and bundling Cas in the car so that they can set off before the snow gets too bad.

“Why did you give me a pair of fake antlers, Dean?” Cas asks as they set off, turning them over and inspecting them in his hands. Much to Dean’s dismay, they wouldn’t fit in the car.

“Thought you liked Christmas stuff?” he replies, grinning.

“What do fabric antlers have to do with Christmas?”

And so, Dean finds himself spending the last leg of the journey attempting to explain Christmas traditions to Cas, who can’t help interrupting and pointing out the real facts, rather than Dean’s Christmas cracker knowledge. They go over Santa and his reindeers (“reindeers can’t fly, Dean”), the birth of Jesus (“I remember Balthazar telling me about that”), and mince pies (“why are they sweet? Mince isn’t supposed to be sweet.”). By the time they arrive Dean is so eager to escape the onslaught of questions that he doesn’t know the answer to, he hits someone with the car door as he gets out.

The actual reason that they have driven into the middle of absolutely nowhere dangerously close to Christmas is because a couple had gone missing last week and hadn’t been seen since. Usually, they would assume that this case wasn’t their kind of thing, but Sam had been asked to check it out by another hunter who knew them (and who apparently had some beef with a ton of shapeshifters), and so here they are..

Dean suggests that FBI agents might be a bit too suspicious for a small town in the middle of nowhere, so instead he and Cas decide to pretend that they are just family visiting them for the weekend. They knock on next door under the pretense of asking for the spare key, and are greeted by possibly the grumpiest people Dean has ever met.

“Fine,” the lady snaps, the half of her face visible from behind the door frowning at them in disgust before turning back into the house. “Harold, get the spare key for next door!”

“Do you happen to know where they have gone?” Dean asks politely, the pleasant smile on his face starting to ache.

“No.”

Cas raises his eyebrows at Dean, before he tries. “When was the last time you saw them?”

The woman huffs impatiently. “Probably when they went to that stupid office Christmas party. We could hear the music from here. It was so inconsiderate.”

“Oh,” Dean replies, sharing a look with Cas. “Where was this party?”

The door opens fully, a man appearing behind the lady - Harold, Dean assumes - who hands the key over to them. “It was those blasted Mitchells.” He turns to his wife, his bushy eyebrows raised. “Did you hear that they are throwing another goddamn party tomorrow, Ann?”

“Thanks for all your help,” Dean interrupts before they can get too carried away.

“Merry Christmas!” Cas adds, already backing away.

They speedwalk back across the victims’ house, making sure that the neighbours’ door is shut before they completely break down laughing. Dean can barely open the door, but when he finally manages to correctly align the key in the lock, they both tumble into the front room, shaking uncontrollably.

Dean collapses next to the couch, sliding to the floor. He takes a couple of deep breaths before managing to speak. “Sounds like we’re going to your first Christmas party, Cas.”

{o0o}

After making their way through most of the people in the town, two things have been made very clear. First of all, the last anyone had seen of the victims - Adam and Amelia Knapp - was at their office Christmas party. Which nearly everyone in the town had been at, and yet no one knew anything remotely helpful. Secondly, there was another Christmas party being held tomorrow night by the somewhat popular Mitchell family, and the chances of their mystery monster striking were high, in Dean’s opinion.

The most logical course of action would be for Dean and Cas to pretend to be guests at the party, so they could stop their creature before anyone else went missing and then they could disappear back home in time for Christmas. However, Dean had found that nothing in his life could ever be that simple, so instead he found himself standing in front of a wide array of hats, trying to wrestle a fez away from a former angel of the Lord.

Because of course it had to be a costume party, and just as the icing on the cake, it had to be a couples only costume party.

“Dude,” Dean says, finally managing to wrench the fez from Cas’ iron grip, “if we’re wearing hats, at least try a good hat.”

Dean plops an example on Cas’ head, laughing as it slips over his eyes. “These aren’t Christmassy, Dean.”

“Sure they are,” Dean says, grabbing a hat more in Cas’ size and a matching one for him. He strolls over to the till, grabbing a couple more things on the way. “You’ll see.”

Since they have a few hours to kill before the actual party, Dean decides that they can waste some of the day doing some Christmas shopping, especially after he finds out that Cas hasn’t got any presents yet. He drives them to a nearby mall, throws Cas a handful of notes and his antlers, and gives him strict instructions to buy some presents and then meet Dean in the food court in an hour.

“Why can’t we do it together?” Cas asks, and Dean could swear he was pouting.

“Because the presents are supposed to be a surprise,” he explains, shooing Cas away with his hands. “Look, I’ll see you in an hour, and if you need anything you can just call me, ‘kay?”

Cas nods and meanders off, disappearing into the crowd without further complaint.

It is nearly ten minutes later, while he is rummaging through some shirts in an attempt to find one in Sam’s size, when Dean realises that this is the first time that Cas has been alone since he lost his grace. A sudden jolt of panic rushes through him, and he has to force himself to take a deep breath.

Castiel was older than humanity. He had led armies of angels. He had fought against demons and archangels and every monster under the sun. He could handle buying a few Christmas presents.

But, at the same time, Dean can’t help but worry. The dude has questionable social skills at best, and he is still trying to get to grips with his brand new human body. He often has to be reminded to eat or drink water or sleep, and there were several embarrassing occasions in the beginning where he had forgotten entirely.

Dean’s hand itches, his fingers curling towards his back pocket, but he resists the urge to call and check up on Cas. He doesn’t need a babysitter. He tells himself that he should just get his presents for people and then he can meet back up with Cas as soon as possible.

The mall is packed, the usual last rush as people get the last few things they need for Christmas. Conversations and the sound of toddlers crying fight to be heard over the echoing music, festive music adding to the deafening noise. While dodging people, making his way to their meeting place, Dean tries to remember the last time he was in a mall. Certainly not recently - he thinks it may be some time before he met Cas - and he definitely doesn’t remember them making him feel this claustrophobic. The sea of people pushing against him makes him want to throw up, and he finds himself having to duck into the nearest shop to avoid the crowd, shutting his eyes and leaning heavily against a railing.

“Dean?” a deep, familiar voice asks him, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Dean cracks one eye open, laughing when he realises what shop he found Cas in. He knew he should never have introduced him to Hot Topic. “I’m fine, Cas. Just hungry.” he deflects, standing up straight and patting his friend on the shoulder.

Cas gives him a look that says ‘I know you’re lying but I’m going to let you get away with it just this once’ and instead says, “Let me pay for this, and then we can go and get some lunch.”

Not even twenty minutes later, Dean is watching Cas eat a taco for the first time and has completely forgotten that he ever felt bad, because he is laughing too hard to care. Cas looks highly bemused at the stain on his precious trench coat, but Dean thinks that, secretly, he doesn’t mind.

{o0o}

There is no question that they are in the right place when they pull up outside the address they were given a few hours later, if the ridiculous amount of fairy lights and assorted decorations are anything to go by. They can’t help but stare at the blinding display for a moment, before Dean turns to Cas to make sure he remembers the plan. “Okay, so we go in, find our mystery monster-”

“Sam thinks it is a shapeshifter.” Cas interrupts.

“Okay, so we grab this shifter, gank it, grab some food on the way out and then drive home in time for Christmas. You remember the cover story?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Yes, Dean. We’re the Bassons, and we’re thinking about moving here. Do I need to repeat the rest?”

“Alright then, you ready?” Dean intertwines his fingers with Cas’ - in order to keep their cover, obviously - takes a deep breath, and then opens the door.

A wave of heat rolls out from the crowded house, contrasting with the painfully cold air outside. As they step inside, Dean picks up a delicious smell wafting in from the kitchen, a mixture of turkey and cranberry sauce and mulled wine and gravy. The third thing he notices is the music blaring in from the other room, loud enough that he can feel the vibrations thrum through his body. He laughs when he realises what song it is. Space Cowboy; he couldn’t have picked a more fitting song.

After they had come home from their spontaneous shopping spree, Dean had spent an hour making the perfect couple’s costume. Considering the only supplies he had were ones he had picked up from the dollar store, he was actually pretty impressed with his handiwork. Both him and Cas were wearing their normal fed suits, however, it was the hats that really sold it. Dean had affixed - using an alarming amount of superglue - a strand of purple and blue glittery tinsel to his cowboy hat, and a set of fully functional Christmas lights to Cas’.

Cas had protested at first - “How are cowboys Christmas related, Dean?” - until he had been convinced by the hidden practicality of it: any weapons they brought with them could be written off as part of the costume. Also, cowboys are awesome. Dean has yet to find someone who can prove him wrong on that point.

Cas squeezes Dean’s hand to get his attention, nodding towards two people who appear to be the hosts of the party. The music shifts into some Christmas classic, and they make their way over so they can start ruling people off the list of suspects.

An hour later, Dean officially decides that he is never attending a Christmas party again. Luckily, they’ve only had to deal with one homophobe, who Dean ‘accidentally’ dropped a whole plate of food on, but that doesn’t mean that none of the other guests are driving him up the wall. It seems that everyone is slightly drunk apart from them, and the only reason Dean hasn’t joined in is because of the dirty looks Cas sends him every time he so much as glances towards the punch bowl.

It’s the karaoke that does him in. Cas is somewhere (Dean couldn’t tell if he genuinely needed the bathroom, or if that was his attempt at saying he was going to scout the house) and there is a woman wearing a skimpy reindeer outfit and wailing along to Last Christmas. God only knows what caused her to get on top of the table and join in while crying, but Dean suspects the answer includes lots of alcohol and the fact that the man who she had arrived with had disappeared upstairs with an elf some time earlier. Her rendition certainly isn’t going to win any awards.

With Cas not there to see, Dean manages to finish two plastic cups worth of surprisingly nice punch before he can be stopped. Considering the dude has flashing lights on his head, Cas can be remarkably sneaky when he wants to be.

“Dean, I don’t think-”

“Oh, what wonderful costumes!” a woman interrupts, and Dean forces a smile back on his aching face before he turns around to face her, just in time to see wink at him. She is wearing a green dress and is covered in baubles and tinsel, and the man standing next to her is literally wearing a massive cardboard box, wrapped to look like a present. It takes all of Dean’s self control not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

“Thank you,” Cas says, and Dean wraps an arm around his waist in order to confirm that they are, in fact, a couple. The few times he had touched Castiel, he had been cold; it had felt like touching a corpse. As a human, Cas was like a hot water bottle, and even though the house was boiling, Dean couldn’t help but latch onto him whenever the opportunity arose.

“I’m Natasha,” the woman continued, staring at Dean in what he had to assume was her version of ‘seductive’ and completely ignoring Cas. “Oh, and this is Cole,” she adds as an afterthought.

Cole also winks at Dean. He has never felt so uncomfortable in his life, and he went to Hell. Although, he has also never had both members of a couple separately flirt with him while fake dating someone else.

“I’m Dean, and this is Cas,” he replies, pulling the former angel even closer into him. “My husband.”

“Oh,” Cole says, and Dean doesn’t think he is imagining the disappointed tone.

“Sorry,” Natasha adds, not sounding in any way apologetic. “I didn’t realise you were a couple!”

Dean didn’t think he could make it more obvious, but… if she didn’t believe them, then they might be at risk of blowing their cover. There were already at least seven people who had been avoiding them after the usual weird questions and some not quite realistic ploys to get them to touch a silver coin that they had brought with them.

“Why’s that?” he asks, and regrets the question almost as soon as it comes out of his mouth.

“For starters,” Natasha proclaimed, way too eager for this to end well. “You’ve been standing under mistletoe this whole time and haven’t kissed!”

Dean’s whole body freezes as they both look up, and sure enough, the bastard plastic plant is hanging directly over their heads.

“I didn’t realise,” Cas says, somewhat dazedly.

Dean takes a deep breath - there’s nothing they can do now, not with these nosy, weirdass people watching and waiting and expecting a kiss - and pulls Cas closer, turning to face him so their bodies are pressed together. In the dim lights, the lights on Cas’ hat make his startling blue eyes twinkle like starlight, and Dean wonders how he never saw how gorgeous he was before now. Maybe he had, and it had just been buried along with everything else.

“Dean,” Cas’ low voice rumbles, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

Kissing a man is not so different to kissing a woman, and Dean can’t help but notice how much he likes the feeling of Cas’ chapped lips on his own. Something lights up inside him like a firework, and he realises exactly how much he wanted - no, needed this. He feels better than he has in a long time, as if a missing puzzle piece had suddenly slotted into place.

Cas pulls away first, and Dean’s mind suddenly catches up with his body. Holy shit, he just kissed Cas. He barely registers Natasha and Cole walking away, still transfixed by the fact he finds a former angel of the Lord - who is a man - devastatingly handsome.

“Dean. Dean, are you okay?” It is only the feeling of Cas’ body heat leaving him that gets him to look down, absentmindedly fixing the shorter man’s hat.

“Yeah,” Dean replies, choking on the words. “Yeah, I just gotta - I’m just gonna…”

And, like a complete and utter cowardly dick, he walks away.

{o0o}

It has been twenty minutes, so Dean can be fairly certain that Cas isn’t gonna come looking for him. Which is fine. It’s not like he was expecting him to. They only kissed to keep up the pretense, and Dean’s weird behaviour has probably ruined that anyway. It meant nothing.

The problem is that Dean can’t stop thinking about how amazing it had felt to kiss Cas. He had tasted like mulled wine and honey and the promise of a thousand lazy mornings. It had felt like flying and drowning all at once. Dean had never understood when people had described kisses as things that had nothing to do with the act, like earthquakes or lightning or fireworks, but the only way he could explain the ecstasy he had felt when their lips had touch was an act of God.

And that thought only spiraled into another: Dean had kissed an angel of the Lord. An angel. Even though Cas was human now, he still remembered the birth of existence and every word that came out of his mouth was fueled by eons of knowledge and memories and experience. He held himself with a grace that only a true warrior can execute, and to him, Dean must seem so small. How insignificant was he compared to that brilliant man?

Finally, there it is. The real issue. Castiel is a man.

It had taken some time, but Dean had taught himself, eventually, that John Winchester was a terrible parent. In fact, it was generous to call him a parent at all. It was Dean who had raised Sam, raised himself. And, even now, he couldn’t help but fall back into his old mindset, into an old version of Dean who would have done anything for his father’s approval. But, if he is being honest with himself - and, let’s be frank, it’s about time - Castiel was not the first man he had liked. He probably wasn’t even the third.

In that moment, Dean decides that he doesn’t want to be a coward any longer. If he never expected his life to be a long one, then it is all the more reason to go for what he wants now, rather than later.

Yeah, maybe he’ll lose Cas, but… the possibility of what could await him if Cas does reciprocate is far more frightening than the former angel laughing in his face.

{o0o}

Castiel considers himself very knowledgeable in Dean Winchester’s emotions. He knows exactly how long to avoid Dean after eating a slice of his pie, he knows that he can hold full conversations with just a look, and, as an example, he knows that after their kiss, Dean Winchester was panicking. Badly.

That was fine. Castiel was fine with that. It wasn��t like he had been secretly in love with a man who had repeatedly called him a brother for over ten years. Nothing like that.

Sighing, Cas gently puts his paper plate on the corner of the kitchen table, the food he had been so excited to try half an hour ago now making his stomach roll. He figured that Dean had just needed some air; he would cool down, shove all of his emotions down in true Winchester fashion, and then return and pretend that nothing ever happened. The problem wasn’t just with the fact that Cas would very much be remembering that kiss until the day he died, but that Dean had been a really long time.

Time moves differently now that he was human. As an angel, everything seemed to move so much faster. There was always something to do, the faint crackling of angel radio like a comforting background noise or a million particles to study. A blink of his eye and a century could have passed, and yet here he is, thirty minutes feeling like an eternity.

It’s by the time Cas has checked every room downstairs that he really starts to worry.

Dean is not in the kitchen stuffing his face, and he is not in the dining room drinking punch, and he is not dancing to the rather annoying upbeat song that is playing in the living room. He is not in the hallway, or on the stairs, or in the bathroom. When Cas starts asking, people give conflicting answers. A bauble saw him go upstairs, a Christmas tree could swear he was in the kitchen, an elf insists that he went outside.

Since it is the only place he hasn’t checked, Cas heads outside. There, on the floor, is Dean’s stupid hat, the tinsel loose on one side, dangling pathetically into a puddle of melted snow.

Cas immediately calls Sam, who picks up surprisingly quickly. “Cas? What’s up?”

“ImighthavekissedDeanandnowIdon’tknowwhereheis-”

“Cas, slow down,” Sam urges, forcing Cas to take a deep breath before continuing.

“We’re, uh, at a couples’ only party, and we had to kiss and then Dean freaked out but he’s been gone for ages and I think he is in trouble,” Cas says, only marginally slower than before.

“Shit. Okay, send me the address. We’re on our way.”

Sam, Cas thinks as he tries a door handle that he missed before, is excellent at coming up with plans. Maybe it’s the time spent in college, maybe it’s his years of hunting experience, but even over the phone he had pointed out things that Cas had failed to spot. Like, for example, the door to the basement.

Cas turns the phone flashlight on like Dean taught him, the beam still not strong enough to light up the impenetrable darkness. The music fades to a distant hum in the background, becoming distorted and frantic as Cas feels. His eyes have barely adjusted enough to see the familiar but unconscious form on the ground - “Dean?” - before something solid connects with the back of his head, and Cas tumbles forwards, crumpling at the bottom of the stairs.

{o0o}

“Cas?”

Cas groans. When he had finally fallen completely, he had been surprised by how much being human hurts. Something always aches, and everything is so easy to damage. Even the smallest of injuries - a stubbed toe or a papercut - hurts way more than it should.

Apparently, a combination of blunt force trauma to the back of the head and the general bruises one acquires from falling down a flight of stairs hurt a lot more than a stubbed toe.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” A familiar voice asks, and Cas tries to turn his head so that he can see Dean, instead finding out that that particular head movement causes his vision to blur and swim. When he attempts to bring his hands up to survey the damage, he can’t understand why they don't move for a moment, before his brain finally manages to catch up and he remembers the night’s events.

So, maybe he wasn’t expecting his first kiss with Dean to be followed by being kidnapped and tied up in a basement, but this is a Winchester they are talking about here.

“Come on, talk to me here.” Dean says, sounding worried.

Cas swallows, aiming to say something to ease Dean’s concern and instead causing a coughing fit. “I’m fine,” he eventually manages to gasp.

Dean snorts. “Sure sound like it.”

They are silent for a moment, the only sounds in the room an echoing drip and Cas’ raspy breaths. Cas isn’t sure how long they have been down there, but since Dean isn’t wriggling about in an attempt to escape, it has probably been long enough that he has already checked whether or not he can untie himself. From what Cas’ fumbling fingers can tell, though, the knots keeping them bound to this stupid pole are very good.

He feels utterly pathetic. He used to be a soldier - he had led armies, fought battles that humans couldn’t even comprehend - and here he was now, entirely useless, taken out by a baseball bat and kept prisoner by a length of rope. If he was still an angel this would have never happened. He could have saved Dean, he would have killed whoever did this, and they would have been back in time to enjoy the end of the party.

“What do we do now?” Cas asks, finally breaking the silence.

Dean sighs, and Cas can feel him against his back as his whole body sags down. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do but wait.”

Cas didn’t think he had ever heard Dean give up so easily, and it scared him. “What?”

“I don’t exactly see a way out of this, Cas. I’ve been trying to get these ropes off for half an hour and I think they’re probably just tighter than they were when I started.”

Cas gave an experimental yank, and Dean hissed in pain. Suddenly, the wetness on Cas’ hands made sense. “You’re bleeding, Dean.”

The hunter didn’t reply.

Cas had always thought that his death would be noble. Previously, it had always at least been in battle or a sacrifice, but this was just… pitiful. He was going to die at the hands of some random shapeshifter in someone’s disgusting basement, while wearing a cowboy costume.

“I - uh, I just wanted to say,” Dean starts, sounding unsure, “that I’m sorry about earlier.”

“It’s fine, Dean,” he replies, shutting his eyes in an attempt to block out the conversation. If he was going to die, he would rather not be rejected first.

“It was a dick move,” Dean continues, as if he hadn’t heard Cas. “I was just - I mean - I want to say…”

“What, Dean?”

Dean’s voice is barely a whisper. “I think I’d like to kiss you again.”

Cas’ eyes snap back open, and he hits his head on the pole in his confusion. “You would?”

“You don’t… I thought… I mean, I’m just kid-”

“Shut up,” Cas interrupts, not wanting Dean to panic all over again. “I would like that.”

“Oh. Really? Okay,” Dean replies, and Cas shuffles around until he manages to hold his hand. It’s sticky and wet with blood where Dean’s wrists have been hurt by the ropes, and every aching muscle in Cas’ body screams at the awkward position, but he thinks it might still be the happiest he has ever been.

{o0o}

Dean isn’t sure how long it is until he hears the footsteps on the stairs, but it’s long enough for him to feel much too tired for a fight. Can’t the universe just let him be happy for once? Is it too much to ask to not have to fight tooth and claw for one scrap of peace?

“Well, hello there,” a man’s voice says, and Dean feels Cas stiffen. It sounds oddly familiar, but he can’t quite place his finger on where he would have heard it before.

That is, until a second voice speaks. “What have we got here, Harold?”

The next-door neighbours. The old couple who had been complaining about the parties. Of course the only two people in this godforsaken town who they hadn’t checked were the bad guys. He should have seen it. They should have asked them more questions when they weren’t tied to this stupid pole in this stupid fucking basement.

“A pair of cowboys, Ann,” Harold tuts, and Dean cannot believe he is about to be killed by a weird old couple, of all things. He had prevented the apocalypse at least twice, had defeated God, and yet he was going to be killed by the monster of the week. Who looked like they were about three hundred years old, owned fifty cats and knitted in their spare time.

Ann walks around them, her heels clacking on the stone floor, until she comes to a stop in front of Dean. “What a shame,” she says, looking down at him like he was a stain on her shoe. “I was hoping we’d get a crier. Men rarely cry. Apart from that last fellow, of course.”

Dean’s stomach rolls, and he suddenly regrets eating so many pigs in blankets at the party.

“What are you?” Cas practically growls, his hand squeezing Dean’s to comfort him.

“Whatever do you mean, son?” Harold asks, and he sounds genuinely confused.

Oh shit, Dean thinks, letting out an amused huff of breath. Great. He isn’t even going to be killed by the monster of the week. He’s gonna be killed by an actual old person.

“Is something funny, sweetie?” Ann demands, frowning.

Dean smiles up at her, deciding that he may as well die how he lived: a snarky bastard. “Sorry, I just can’t believe that I got kidnapped by someone’s grandma.”

Ann steps closer to him, crouching down so she is his height. A sliver of silver reflects in the dim light like a shooting star, slicing downwards and cutting a thin line across Dean’s neck. “Don’t give me cheek, boy.”

“Let’s kill the other one first, sweetheart. Then that rude fella has to watch his boyfriend die.” Harold suggests, spitting out the word ‘boyfriend’ like it physically hurts him.

Dean clutches Cas’ hand tighter, trying not to let the panic that is welling up inside him, cold and merciless, show on his face. He tugs desperately at the ropes around his wrists one more time, hoping for a miracle that he knows isn’t coming.

“Say goodbye, now.” Ann says, and Dean shuts his eyes. He knows that he can’t deal with losing Cas again, even if he’ll be gone soon after. He spares a brief thought wondering where Cas will go when he dies; is he human enough to avoid the Empty? And even so, would he go to Heaven or Hell?

“I love you, Cas,” Dean whispered, because even though he is scared, he knows that Cas deserves to know.

If Cas says anything back, Dean doesn’t hear it over the gunshot.

{o0o}

Dying was not a new experience for Castiel, nor was dying as a human. What was a new experience was the pain he felt in his chest that no bullet or knife could replicate. It was the knowledge that he had the opportunity to be happy and it had been ripped from him. It was knowing that someone loved him and cared for him and was being taken away from him.

When Harold dropped dead instead of Cas, his heart fluttered. Maybe he did have a chance.

“Dean, are you alright?” Sam’s voice calls out, and Cas finally allows himself to relax slightly.

“Sam?” Dean asks, surprise and confusion and relief all mixed together.

Eileen appears from nowhere and stoops down, grinning at Cas and slicing through the ropes. She winks at him but doesn’t say anything, simply helping him to his feet when it becomes obvious he can’t do it by himself. Sam has backed Ann into the corner of the room, his gun pointed at her with an unwavering hand, but Dean whispers something in his ear and he lowers it slightly. He signs something over his shoulder, not even glancing away from the threat, and Eileen rushes off upstairs, essentially shoving the injured Castiel into Dean’s side.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Dean asks gently, wrapping his arm around Cas’ waist to hold him up. His wrists are still bleeding and they are both cold from sitting in a freezing basement for ages, but the simple action fills Cas with a warmness.

“I’ve been in love with you for twelve years, you assbutt,” he mumbles.

Dean smiles down at him, somehow looking charming even covered in dirt and blood, only looking up when Sam clears his throat.

“Look, we should get out of here,” Sam suggests, standing up. He’s tied Ann to the same post that they thought would be their deathbed only a few minutes ago, and he is shooing them towards the stairs back up to the party. “Eileen’s getting someone to call the cops and we don’t wanna be here when they arrive.”

Cas ducks down, for a moment, holding Dean’s hand so he doesn’t completely keel over, and grabs the two hats off the ground. Reaching up, he puts his on before gently placing Dean’s on his head. The tinsel is falling off on one side, the lights have run out of battery, and they are both caked in dirt, but it still makes Dean smile.

“Let’s go home,” Dean says, leaning down and softly kissing Cas.

{o0o}

Much to Dean’s surprise, Sam and Eileen said nothing about his new relationship with Cas. In fact, when he tried to bring it up - he knew Sam had seen them kissing for Christ’s sake - Sam just shook his head and rolled his eyes at Dean. “Jody owes me fifty dollars,” was all he said, and their discussion was over.

Cas didn’t seem too perturbed by the whole situation, and Dean found himself wondering whether it was just him who found their new relationship strange. Not that anything much had changed, for that matter. They both behaved the exact same way, with added kissing. So what if Sam thought Dean was weird for still calling Cas ‘buddy’? He wasn’t the one dating a former angel.

What Dean had decided, after their fun little kidnapping escapade, was that Cas deserved an awesome Christmas. It was his first one as a human, after all, and what kind of boyfriend would Dean be if he didn’t show Cas all the wonders of the holiday season?

And that is how they found themselves turning the drive home into a Christmas road trip.

Cas wore his reindeer antlers wherever possible, and Dean took a million photos of him. On the first day, they visited a Christmas market. Dean thought it was much too busy and annoying, but it was all worth it for the smile Cas had after drinking his first hot chocolate. On the second day, they went to a drive-in movie. Cas gave both the funniest and most irritating running commentary that Dean had ever heard, having to remind him every five minutes that “it’s a romcom, Cas. It’s not supposed to make sense.”

On Christmas Eve, they spent most of the day driving to make sure they got home in time for the dinner that Sam and Eileen had promised. They sang carols at full volume and blasted Christmas songs and Dean taught Cas how to play the air guitar. Dean couldn’t remember a time when he had felt such a sense of freedom and happiness. Maybe it was just a Christmas miracle.

Christmas day rolled around, and it was the nicest Christmas that Dean could remember having. Sam and Eileen had decorated the entire bunker with tinsel and streamers, and had even managed to bring in a huge tree from outside. So maybe not all the decorations on it were technically Christmas related, but the silver bullets were shiny and although no one was quite sure what the pentagram they were using a star on the top did, it looked pretty cool.

By the evening, they had eaten enough food to feed twenty people for a week and had exchanged presents. Sam was sitting at the table with his new fancy pens, Eileen had disappeared to take a shower with her new soaps, and Cas and Dean were firmly planted on the couch. Cas’ new fuzzy socks were warm and ticklish against Dean’s feet, and the angel was a surprisingly good cuddler.

All of a sudden, Dean sat up, dragging Cas with him. “Come on, dude. We should dance.”

Cas snorted but agreed, wrapping his arms around Dean tightly. They swayed slowly to the music, his head on Cas’ shoulder, gently singing along to the slow music.

Now you hang from my lips

Like the Gardens of Babylon

With your boots beneath my bed

Forever is the sweetest con.

Dean’s mouth twists into a smile. “I could spend forever with you,” he whispers, and he leans down to kiss his angel again.

#i hope you enjoy!#destiel #destiel secret santa #my writing #fanfic

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ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 5 years ago

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A/N: Another one-shot for you guys, because I’m bored and though of an idea. Word count: 2021 Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Reader

If there was one thing Gerard has taught you, it was that having shitty thoughts and feelings were normal.

It was just especially difficult for you and your desk job to cope with that. He now had music, which was going extremely well. You were so proud of him and everyone else, but you weren’t happy. Not because of him, but because of yourself.

“Hey, Gee.” You stumbled into your small Jersey apartment at 9 pm on a Tuesday night, your boyfriend on the couch watching something.

“Oh, hey.” He smiled, looking over at you. He immediately noticed your mood. He knew you struggled with depression, but some days were worst than others. “How was your day?”

“Meh.” You said putting your bag down and hanging up your coat. The harsh Jersey winter had finally arrived, a dusting of snow settled on the ground.

“Have you eaten?” He asked you shook your head.

“I’m not hungry.” You admitted, walking over to where he was and sitting next to him.

“Be honest with me,” He turned to face you, “How are you doing?” You knew better than to lie, Gerard was like a lie detector with you. Anything you said he could easily decipher whether it was a lie or wasn’t.

“Not well,” You leaned back, slouching on the old couch you two had, “I just feel so drained.” He nodded.

“Well, I’m not going to tell you it’s okay, because that would be a load of bull shit.” He said, “But how can I help?”

“I don’t know.” You said, “Just, be close to me, maybe?” He nodded, throwing an arm around you and grabbing a blanket from one of the arms of the furniture, placing it over your two bodies. He gave you a long kiss on the head, relaxing into the Star Wars movie marathon that was on.

One of the things that you knew was causing this issue was Gerard’s fame. It was by no means his fault or the bands, but Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge had blown up. And next thing you knew, you were bombarded with co-workers, acquaintances, everyone you even remotely were trying to be friendly with you. But you were smart enough to know it was because of your relationship with Gerard. Two years and a lot had changed.

His fingers had found their way interlocked into strands of your hair, dancing with them and providing an even more relaxing feeling for you. “Tell me why you feel like this.” He told you, your eyes still fixated on the TV.

“I’m just sick of fake people, ya know?” You said, beginning to play with your fingers, “Feeling used.”

“You feel used?” He asked, now concerned, “By who? By me?”

“No, no, of course not.” You let him know, “It’s just, honestly? People want to ya know, know me for you. And I get that, you’re an awesome person, and now you’re famous, but still.” He nodded.

“I’m sorry.” He reassured you, sighing, “Maybe we don’t be as public about us?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to be a burden on you-”

“I’ve thought about this for a while too.” He reassured you, “I want our life, our relationship, to be as normal as possible.”

“Are you sure, Gee?” “Yeah, I’m sure.” You leaned up giving him a kiss, him giving one back, and leaned back into him afterward.

“Thank you.” You said.

“No need to thank me.” He said, “We both need to be comfortable with this, right?”

“Right.” You responded.

And that worked. For a few months. Until their fame blew up even more, and more and more.

Gerard and you had decided to make public appearances together very simple, by wearing sunglasses and hats. Trying not to get mauled by paparazzi. But one day, in particular, you went to the grocery store like a regular person, and within hours you were all over gossip news.

“What the fuck?” You muttered, looking on your and Gerard’s computer at the countless articles with your name splashed on the front, and picture placed right below.

Is Y/F/N Y/L/N pregnant?

Gerard Way expectant father!

Y/F/N Y/L/N seen grocery shopping, pregnancy rumors spark

You shut down the computer, huffing out of frustration and getting up to take a shower. Gee and the guys were on tour at the moment, and the only way this wasn’t going to drive you insane was to take care of yourself.

The warm water hit your bare skin. You took a few deep breaths but looked down at your stomach fat which was mistaken today for a pregnancy. Maybe I do look pregnant? You thought. I should lose weight. The thoughts continued to run in your mind. When was the last time Gerard and I had sex? It had been months. Oh no he thinks I’m fat too. He thinks I’m disgusting.

So there you stood in the shower for an additional 45 minutes, before getting out and drying yourself off. You stood in the bathroom mirror, looking at the fat rolls that laid on your side, the fat on your stomach, and your thick thighs. He doesn’t like my body.

You changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, sitting on your bed. You checked your phone, noticing three missed calls from Gerard. You took a deep breath and reluctantly called him back. “Hey, are you alright?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course.” You put on the most realistic, regular voice you could.

“Did you see the reports?” Both of you paused.

“Yeah, I did.”

“You know they’re some fucking bull shit, right?” He asked.

“Right.” You said.

“Wait, are you pregnant?”

“No, Gee I’m not.” You sighed, “I’m just fat.”

“You’re not fat.” He fired back. And that was enough for you to break down in tears. “Shit.” You could hear him mutter. “Listen I-”

“You have to go, I know.” You said through tears.

“No, I’m not going fucking anywhere.”

“Gee, it’s like 8 pm there. It’s time for you to go out there.”

“I don’t give a single shit.” He said, “You’re not fucking fat, okay? You’re the most gorgeous fucking woman on this fucking planet and screw all the shit those asses say about you.”

“Gee, I’m good.”

“You’re crying.”

“Yeah, but I’ll get through it, okay? Just please, go out there and play.”

“Fine.” He sighed, “But I love you. So fucking much.”

“I love you too.” You whispered and hung up. You slumped under the covers, turning off your phone and lights and going to bed.

Thankfully, the following morning was a Saturday. You woke up, stretching out and yawning. Grabbing your phone, you turned it on only for texts to be flooding your screen. You sat up in confusion, checking some of them.

Did you see what Gerard did? Y/N, it’s insane!

The video’s gone viral!

What video? You thought, swinging yourself over the bed and to the computer. You quickly turned it on, logging in, and searched up Gee’s name, waiting for results to come up. There, lo and behold, all over the internet held a video of him on stage that had gone viral. So of course, you clicked on it.

“How many of you here are girls?” He asked, no music playing. Part of the crowd cheered. “Well, I want to tell every single one of you, that you are all fucking beautiful, in your very own fucking way.” The crowd roared. “And I’m sick and tired of the fucking bull shit, that the media likes to stir regarding women and their bodies.” The crowd went even wilder, “Because all women are beautiful. And all you guys, you guys are handsome. And everyone here is fucking hot.” Everyone managed to get even louder for that.

You knew it was of course him directing it at the rumors regarding you. And you were honestly quite thankful for it. But you were still worried that you weren’t enough in his eyes anymore.

You got ready for a day at home, which would most likely consist of cleaning and cooking for yourself, with maybe some reading or TV involved in there too. After cooking breakfast, you got a call from Gerard. “Hey, Gee.” You picked up.

“Hey, honey.” He said. “How are you?”

“Good, how about you?”

“Alright.” He said. “I- I think we should talk about the rumors. I know you’re still upset, and I am too.” You sighed.

“Gee, I appreciate what you did on stage last night.”

“It needed to be said.” He spoke with confidence, “Someone needed to at least. And you know I don’t give a fuck.”

“Yeah, I know Gee.” You said.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked. You didn’t answer, “Please, tell me. Please?” You sighed.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“If you can?” He asked, “You can tell me anything.”

“Do you still love me?” You asked, pain erupting in every word. He didn’t respond for a few moments.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asked, “Are you drunk?”

“No, I’m not Gerard.” You said, “Do you still love me?”

“Yes, of course, I fucking love you. More than anything.”

“Do you love my body?” You asked next, “Am I unattractive to you?” You could hear him sigh.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I know I’m chubby.” You said, “And we haven’t had sex in forever. So I just thought-”

“Your body is fucking beautiful.” He said, “You’re the most gorgeous woman on this planet, on the inside and the out. I love every inch of you and you better know that and understand that because I really do.” He took a moment to breathe, “And I swear, the first thing I’m doing when I get a break is taking you right there against the fucking wall. I’ve been dreaming about you every single day since I left.” You weren’t sure how to respond.

“I love you, Gerard.” You said.

“I love you too, Y/N.” He responded, “Are you okay now?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I’m gonna be home in the next three weeks, okay? We have a break.”

“Sounds great.” You lightly smiled.

“I do love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Gee. Bye.” You two hung up.

The next few weeks went by slowly, day by day slugging yourself in and almost immediately crashed onto the bed. One night, after passing out almost immediately post changing. You snuggled into the covers, falling asleep instantly.

It wasn’t uncommon you woke up in the middle of the night, but when you felt a shift in your bed you knew it wasn’t insomnia. You stirred a little bit, groaning slightly. “Hey, babe.” You heard a familiar voice. You still weren’t completely in your conscious.

“Hey, Gee.” You responded out of instinct rolling back over.

“Try to get some sleep, okay?” He asked you could feel him shift under the covers.

“Mhm.” You murmured into your pillow, falling right back asleep.

But of course the next morning, you noticed the slant in the mattress as well as the warmth which radiated from the usually empty side of the bed. “Gee?” You asked, rolling over slightly to face him.

“Hey,” He muttered, still half asleep.

“You’re back.” He nodded against the pillow. “Oh, well, I missed you.” He lightly chuckled.

“I missed you too, sugar.” You two laid there for a few content, silent moments before speaking up.

“How long are you back for?” You asked next.

“Four days.” He said, smirking immediately after.

“What?” You asked.

“I think I made a promise.” He got up, getting above you and smiling down, giving you a kiss.

“Gee,” You said, pulling away, “Can I get five more minutes of sleep?” He sighed, slumping back down next to you.

“Really? Now?”

“Yes, now, Gee.” You smiled, knowing you had just pissed him off.

“If you’re hard you can always-”

“No, I’ll wait.” He sighed again and you lightly laughed. “You find this funny?”

“I don’t find it funny,” You clarified, “I find it absolutely hilarious.”

“You’re so beautiful.” He smiled. You groaned.

“Thanks.” You said, “You’re gorgeous too Gerard.”

#gerard way fanfiction #gerard way x reader #gerard way #my chemical romance x reader #my chemical gerard #my chem #my chemical gee #my chemical romance #mcr x reader #mcr fanfiction #mcr gerard #mcr

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bluucliiffoord · 5 years ago

Text

Lullabies

full on mysme trash rn,,, def not my first time writing mysme oneshots but my first time actually posting them. just wanted to share this,,, wrote it as a vent story? or prologue of a story at least.

inspired directly by the line of all time low's classing song, Lullabies ( hence why it's gonna be the story title :33) .

i'll see you in my dreams

lowercase intended and here y'all go

BUT ANYWAY

spoiler/s: seven's real name uwu

‘it's not even 3am but i'm already lonely.’

it wasn't unsual for melancholy to strike during the late hours of the night. that was normal. almost everyone you knew experienced it at least once in their lifetime. and you were experiencing it right now. however, if you had to feel lonely, you'd prefer to succumb to the unwanted feeling during the ungodly hours of 2 or 3 am.

why? it seemed more romantic— more aesthetic to stare at the ceiling during those hours, continuously wondering why the fuck were you feeling this or to grab a pen and some paper and try to write poetry so you could distract yourself from whatever it was that caused this.

feeling lonely at 11pm seemed so... so pathetic to you. after all, there was still a chatroom that needed to be opened a whole lot of minutes later. maybe that could ease the consistent emptiness you felt in your chest.

you sighed, letting your eyes wander to the upper left corner of your phone. the corner of your lips curled into a curt grin at the sight of the time.

11:11pm.

23:11.

they say that if you made a wish during this time, it'll come true. of course, you knew that that was nothing but pure superstition spread by hopeless people that continued to believe that making wishes to a certain time would make your deepest, most desired wish come true, but hey, loneliness was a dick and you wanted it to stop visiting you ever so often. so, as a desperate attempt to stop being lonely— you tried.

you closed your eyes and tightened your grip on your phone. you racked your brain, trying to determine which wish to make.

‘should i wish for my loneliness to stop annoying me or should i wish the people that made less lonely be real?’

you bit your inner cheek. you went for the latter. well, something like the latter. you closed your eyes tighter and whispered, “i wish i was in the mystic messenger universe.”

the moment those words left your lips, it dawned on you how ridiculous that wish was. you snickered as you opened your eyes. a crestfallen smile settled on your lips while the hands that held your phone dropped to your chest.

you sighed, looking up at the ceiling. were you really that lonely?

perhaps.

how lonely do you even have to be to wish to be stuck inside the universe of your favourite otome game where the characters care deeply for you and love you for who you are, are real?

‘a whole fucking lot.’

you placed your arms on top of your face in an attempt to drown out the long, loud groan of frustration that erupted from you. you sighed before removing your arms from your face, and grabbed your phone. you checked the time once again.

11:13pm.

only twenty eight minutes before the final chatroom for day ten of seven's route would open. after that, you could finally get a good night's sleep. that was, if the circumstances allowed it. sleep never came easy to you.

now you kinda regretted the wish you made. instead of that beyond ridiculous, desperate as fuck wish, maybe you should've settled for something more realistic— something more attainable. perhaps you should've just wished for yourself to fall asleep easily and have sweet dreams where the mystic messenger characters were real for the rest of your lonely life.

••••

you fell asleep the minute you closed your eyes. awesome but the temporary bliss of nothingness proved to be short lived. you were awakened by a gush of wind hitting your face.

you gasped upon opening your eyes. white. everything you saw was white and hazy. everything seemed to be put in some sort of filter which made your surroundings glow with a tinge of red and a dark hue of blue.

you blinked, trying to process whatever it is you were witnessing wherever it is you were. the horizon seemed to be blocked by fluffy clouds as a light breeze blew your hair back. your skin felt like it was being kissed by the early morning sunbeams.

your feet stood on something that felt like grass, but when you looked down, there was no grass. just white concrete that was oddly soft.

everything was white. even the dress you wore was white. huh, that was odd. you were one hundred percent sure that you went to sleep wearing an old baggy shirt and a pair of worn out sweatpants and, not this white, frilly sundress.

you let your hand travel through the fabric of the dress you wore. it was soft and felt light. you looked up and began to get curious.

you stared at the ‘sky,’ but there was no sky. or at least something that looked like the sky you were used to. when you looked up, the colour white greeted you.

wherever you are seemed to be like a void like state. but somehow, it felt like you were in a field. the imaginary grass on your feet, the continuous light breeze that made your hair messy, and the warmth radiating on your skin.

curious, you took a cautious step forward. the world didn't break apart, neither did the floor you stood on. maybe... it was safe? you took another step, testing the waters. and again, nothing. and another test because you just didn't trust your surroundings. and again, nothing.

you let out a sigh and deemed it was safe for you to explore this place you were stuck in. as you walked, nothing seemed to change. white, hazy walls still surrounded you. it also seemed that you never got close to the horizon.

it was weird. this was weird. but what was even weirder was the fact you heard someone call your name. but to be honest, you were unsure if you should be frightened or be glad that someone was with you in this bizarre place.

the voice came from behind you. whoever it was seemed to be far, you could tell by how low and faint the voice was when you heard it.

so you turned, ready to take another step when you heard your name again. you froze. it seemed nearer than before. the voice sounded familiar. you couldn't exactly pinpoint why it did, but it was. it also felt like... like home.

you took a step before making a run for it. you didn't understood the need to run but your body told you to run and your brain simply followed. as you ran, something or someone began to form in your peripheral vision.

you slowed your pace until your running became slow steps towards the person. he had his back turned to you. his clothes were also white. the contrast to his white get up was his red, tousled hair.

‘red hair,’ you thought, tilting your head as you stepped closer to the man.

“y/n,” he said, turning to face you. a warm smile on his face as your eyes grew wide.

‘no... no way.’

you stood there frozen, unable to process what you saw in front of you. saeyoung... you weren't mistaken. this had to be him. the red hair, the stripped glasses, that voice that was very much imprinted in your brain due to the numerous times you had called him in and outside his route.

he stood in front of you with a bright, welcoming smile on his face. you were in shock that you couldn't even reciprocate the smile. your mouth hung open a little while your hands kept frozen at your side.

his eyes examined you. his smile never left as he began to clear the space between the two of you.

“you'll see me in your dreams,” he said, extending his hand for you to accept. “i'll— we'll be waiting for you.”

his smile was still warm and welcoming as ever. however, you still felt reluctant. but you threw that shook the doubt away and buried it deep within yourself. slowly, you reached for his hand.

the minute that you accepted the handshake, you couldn't even marvel at how soft yet rough his hand was when light began to glow from your hands, followed by what seemed like a supernova.

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nataliedanovelist · 5 years ago

Text

GF - Warming Comforts

For @lemonfodrizzlecake

~~~~~~~~~~

The freezing water splashed against the sturdy boat, creating a beautiful song of the sea. It was pitch black outside, though only four in the afternoon, but with it being winter on the Arctic Ocean, sunlight was a rare treat. In fact, Ford had calculated that they would not see any sunshine until the last day of February unless they traveled south.

While it was true that he was more sensitive to the cold and always wore several thick layers to contain more body heat (why else would he wear a turtleneck and trenchcoat in the middle of summer), there was something awakening about the bitter icy atmosphere, how it made his every breath visible, how it pricked his cheeks and nose, turning them red, how if wind cursed them it would send shivers down his spine and ruffle his charcoal-gray fluff for hair.

Ford smiled and peered through his telescope again, the night sky being cloudless and perfect for star mapping. While he appreciated and missed the Northern Lights, it was difficult to study the representatives of Abraham’s descendants with so much commotion in the air, so the aged scientist took advantage of the quiet inky black sky and used his lantern to make a map of the stars, a fun activity that Ford was sure the children would want to see when he was finished. He pulled himself away from the telescope and began to make some marks on the dark-blue paper on the railing.

“BOO!”

“GAH!”

Ford jumped from fear at the sudden noise and misplaced his footing on the slippery dock. With one hand stupidly on his hip for a weapon due to reflexes, his body was too busy panicking to keep him from toppling off the boat and down into the sea. He heard that voice yell again - but this time in pure fear rather than trying to put fear into someone else - just before he splashed into the freezing water.

Every nerve in his body screamed in agony, lost of all his hands and face. His torso, protective with an undershirt, two sweaters that Mabel had made for him, and a thick blue hoodie, were still somewhat warm, but it wouldn’t be long until the water would seep through and freeze his chest and stomach, but right now his legs and arms were in quite a bit of pain. Ford wanted to gasp in shock, but he was quick to realize that would mean breathing in sea water, so he focused his pain into moving upward and soon he broke the surface and coughed as he wiped his face dry of beads of water behind his glasses.

“STANFORD! Stanford, I’m sorry, are you okay?!”

“Stanley, I’m fine.” Ford chuckled; he was initially extremely irritated but the way his twin was freaking out and was completely resentful for a small prank gone wrong made up for it. Really, he was just cold. No permanent harm done. “Just throw down the rope, will you please?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Stan sounded like he was calming down, but Ford wouldn’t be surprised if he was shaking as much as he was right now.

Stan, meanwhile, was scrambling for the rope and working to throw it down so his brother could climb back up. Trust him to only intent to make his brother jump and prove a point that his tunnel vision when working is really that bad, only to plunge the brainiac into the Arctic Ocean. He could still fix this; once Ford is safe he can change into dry clothes and sit by the wood-burning stove with a cup of coffee, the heating pad, and some blankets. Hey, at least it was a legitimate excuse not to push himself so hard.

The youngest of the two by fifteen minutes tossed down one half of the rope and held on tight, brazing himself for the sudden weight to cling on. “Here you go, Sixer.” A few seconds passed and no response came. No call, no tug on the rope, not even a splash to clue Stan in that his brother was even trying to grab the rope. “Ford, you okay?”

Well, no, he wasn’t okay, he was freezing cold, but he would be soon. Worried the nerd was way too cold to speak or move, Stan picked up the lantern and shined it down to see the ocean that surrounded them. His heart plunged into his stomach when he didn’t see Ford in the water. All that was visible to his eyes were some icebergs that decorated the sea. “Stanford! Talk to me!” Stan demanded.

Ford might be a jerk, but not this big of a jerk. Stan quickly shed his beanie and long coat (he needed something dry to wrap his brother in when they came back), then he tied the rope to the dock, letting it trail down into the sea, and he grabbed a flashlight from out of his coat. No sense in jumping into the ocean if he couldn’t see. All within five seconds of realizing his twin was nowhere to be seen, Stan dived into the ocean.

He ignored the way he nerves howled in agony and shined the flashlight every which way underwater to find Ford. He squinted at a dark shape and swam towards it, a little too far away to see, but then as the light shined on scaly skin Stan got a glimpse of what he was up against and it took everything not to waste his breath growling. Speaking breath, he was running out of it. He swam up to the surface, directly below his enemy to recharge his batteries to fight the best he could, then he dove again, this time more determined than ever to not break the surface again if his twin wasn’t doing so with him.

Ford’s neck and limbs were bound in the tentacles of a giant squid. Unless Stan was mistaken, this was the same giant squid that greeted them as dinner when they first began their journey. Didn’t this gross unwrapped sushi have anything better to do than stock them like a big crazy fangirl? Stan dove down as the monster hissed angrily at the intruder. Ford was still struggling, but he was slowing down and his eyes were shut.

Stan pulled out his pocket knife and slashed a tentacle and tried to free his brother. The squid squealed in pain and let Ford go, who was weak and limp from the lack of warmth and oxygen. Quickly delivering a left hook to the squid’s big eye, Stan wrapped one of Ford’s arms around his neck and swam upward as fast as he could.

The moment they broke the surface they both gasped and coughed furiously. Stan used all of his strength to hoist Ford towards the rope, who grasped it and began to climb with Stan’s help. Thankfully they both managed to climb up onto the boat, soaking wet and horribly cold as a gust of wind blew by, but they were alive. That was the important thing.

On his hands and knees, Stan grabbed his coat and helped the quivering Ford out of his dripping wet blue hoodie and into the dry coat. “C’mon, Sixer, let’s get you warm.”

Hazed and weaker than he would like to be, Ford mindlessly nodded and let his brother take charge. Stan was put on protective auto-pilot, and despite being cold and weak he did not rest as he walked them both inside the small cabin of the boat and helped his brother get well.

The wood-burning stove cracked with fire in the corner in the kitchen, the couch right by it for cozy relaxation. Stan made his brother stand next to it and he quickly threw in three more planks of wood into the fire to make it hotter and fueled for a long time. Stan then fished out Ford’s thickest pair of yellow-plaid pajamas and fuzzy knitted socks (Mabel never rests) and made Ford change while Stan turned on the heating pad and decided that now was as good a time as any for dinner. Rather than coffee, Stan stood only a few feet away from his twin as he fixed some tomato soup and dug out some bread and made grilled cheeses to go with it, keeping an eye on Ford’s skin and how it was slowly not looking as pale as it did.

Ford sat on the couch as his mind was slowly coming back to himself. It then suddenly came to him in an instant that Stan was still wet and freezing, risking a cold if he didn’t change quickly. “Stanley, you knucklehead!” He scolded and jumped up from the couch, leaving the damp coat on the floor. He marched over and swiped the wooden spoon from Stan’s hand and pointed to the doorway leading downstairs for the bedroom. “Go change! You’ll catch your death in this cold.”

Stan snorted and rolled his eyes with a smile. “Whatever, I’m fine, I wasn’t in there as long as you.”

“I don’t care, go change!”

“Alright, Ma.” Stan punched his shoulder lightly as he walked off to change. While the warmth of the hot stove as he cooked did help, he couldn’t deny how much better he would feel to be in cozy pajamas rather than freezing wet clothes.

Soon in Mabel’s pink goodbye sweater (it’s cold, he has to) and dark-gray sweatpants with socks and slippers. Ford turned off the stove and poured the tomato soup into two mugs and had the sandwiches on plates. He nodded to the couch by the fire and instructed firmly, “Sit.”

Stan shrugged and did as he was told as he swiped the fuzzy hand-knitted blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over his lap. Once again Ms. Mabel Pines was responsible for something cozy and warm in the Stan O’ War II. It had come in the mail around the holidays, a thick blue and green blanket that looked like it had been knitted with expensive wool. It was a huge blanket that could easily cover three grown men and Stan honestly thought it was his grandniece’s best work thus far.

He chuckled and shook his head as Ford joined him by his side. “Does Mabel ever just relax? You know, sit around and do nothing like a kid should?”

“It runs in the family.” He quipped and let Stan throw the blanket over his lap as he handed him his mug of soup and placed the plates on their laps. Stan smiled at Ford, hoping for one in return, but he was startled to find a scowl on his brother’s face. “Now as for you, what on Earth were you thinking?!” He scolded.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and winced. “I know I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Completely irresponsible! Totally reckless! What am I supposed to do to myself if you had gotten hurt, Stanley!? Yes, I know how strong you are and you can handle a monster or two, but really!”

His parental scolding continued for a few minutes while Stan smiled at himself and sipped his soup. This wasn’t the first time Ford had taken this approach to being “angry” at Stan for saving his life or doing something even slightly dangerous. They were sailing in the middle of the Arctic Ocean for Mose’s sake, of course it’s going to be dangerous, that’s what makes it exciting, but that never stopped Ford from lecturing him every time his neck was at risk for Ford’s behalf. Stan had learned to just let Ford rant and go with it until he had a chance to remind him that if the tables would turn Ford would be just as stupid, and then all that would leave Ford to do is mumbled how Stan is a better man than him and needs to continually prove him right.

By the time Stan was quietly munching on his grilled cheese, Ford was catching his breath, and Stan said collectively, “Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Sixer, just relax, okay? On second thought, don’t, cuz all that energy is warming you up.”

His red cheeks, Ford rolled his eyes and mumbled something in his mug that Stan only picked up because he had heard Ford say it countless times. “Don’t make me lose you again, Stanley.”

Stan snorted and rested his head on his brother’s shoulder to help keep him warm. “Never gonna happen. You’re stuck with me forever, Poindexter.”

“Good.”

#GF #gravity falls #i think i forgot how to title #oh well #requests #fanfiction #ford pines #stan pines #sea grunks

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