#it makes me want to chew on a brick wall or eat the nearest piece of paper

[tmf-confessions]

now i know how those tournament/confession blogs feel when they keep reblogging stuff not on their main

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Twelve Days of Holly Jolly Tidings - Day 6

Disclaimers: I watched “Dash & Lily” the other day on Netflix. This story is LOOSELY based on that book and Netflix series.  I do not own “Dash and Lily” or Newsies or anything recognizable within the series.  There are occasional curse words throughout the series, nothing too horrible but there’s some.  

Wednesday, December 18

Gathering her stuff, she trudged over to the elevator, happy to finally be leaving her work behind. It had been a shit day and it didn’t help that one of her articles was sent back to her desk with red ink all over it.   

Walking out of the elevator, she smiled seeing a man standing there waiting for her. “Thank God you’re still here. I thought you might have snuck out.” 

“Nope . . . just got my ass chewed out and an article was just redlined back to me.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Not that I don’t love seeing you, but what are you doing here, Spot?” 

He held up the familiar green notebook, grinning. “I’ve been recruited to deliver this to you. But there’s something you need to do first before you can get this.” 

“And what’s that?” Her eyebrow rose in curiosity, Spot holding the notebook just out of her reach. 

He smiled, tucking the notebook in his back pocket. “Have dinner with me?” 

“So I’m guessing today’s adventure isn’t on some sort of time table?” She guessed, looking over at him. 

Shaking his head, he started walking, not waiting for her to catch up. “No, there’s not. Something has to be done tonight but not a strict schedule. Now can we go get dinner?” 

She looped her arm through his as they made their way down the street. “And what’s for dinner, oh grumpy one?” 

“Just for that, you can pick up the bill.” He stuck his tongue out at her as she scoffed. “Kidding but I’m thinking Chinese.” 

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way, dear sir.” She grinned, trying to avoid the hip check that was coming her way; she was unsuccessful. 

Holding open the door, he motioned for her to go in first as he followed behind her. The door shut with a gentle bang as the hostess led them over to a table. Taking off her coat, she threw it in the booth before sliding in it as Spot did the same on the other side of the table. 

“Have you been here before?” She asked, giving him a look as she opened her menu. She immediately knew what she wanted, closing the menu with a snap. 

Spot looked up briefly before returning to his menu. “Once, Race took me here for a date a couple of years ago. I remember this place having really good food.” 

Nodding, she tapped her nails on the table watching him trying to figure out what he was going to order. “You figured out what you want to eat already?” 

“I tend to get the same thing when I go out for Chinese so it’s not rocket science.” She shrugged as the waitress reappeared with two glasses of water and a pot of tea. 

Quickly ordering, they were left in silence as Kat looked at him. “What’s been up with you? Seems like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” 

“You saw me last week for our annual lunch date. Hospital has been busy so I’ve been pulling more shifts.” Spot grinned, shaking his head at her. “What’s up with you?” 

Kat motioned to him. “You know what Jack’s been doing?” 

“He mentioned it last time Race and I saw him.” Spot shrugged. “I think it’s sweet that he’s planned this out just for you. He just wants to see you smile, Kat.” 

She nodded. “And it’s been fun to follow his adventures and I’ve had a great time with them.” 

“So what’s the problem?” Spot asked, as their order of Crab Rangoon were delivered to the table along with a couple of plates. 

Picking up a Crab Rangoon, she put it on her plate, pulling it apart and popping a piece in her mouth. “It feels like something is missing or I’m not picking up on something.” 

“So you’re putting an expectation on this?” Spot picked up exactly what she was doing. When the two had met, they had instantly connected and had become fast friends. Spot was her best friend, outside of her group she still hung around from college. 

Kat sighed, giving him a look. “I am trying not to but my brain keeps doing it.” 

“You need to tell your brain to knock it off. There shouldn’t be any expectations along with this.” Spot reached over, grabbing her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Jack is doing this to bring a little more holiday cheer to your life. He wants you to be happy and he designed this for that sole purpose. You need to get out of your head this time and just go with the flow. Maybe that’s what Jack is trying to teach you with these adventures - letting go and letting loose.” 

“Letting go and letting loose?” Kat raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you met me?” 

He chuckled. “Yes, I’ve met you. You’re one of my best friends. Don’t put yourself down but I’m challenging you to let go and let loose.” 

“Ugh . . . alright.” She sighed, nodding her head as their food arrived. 

Spot raised an eyebrow, looking up at her before he dug into his meal. “If you’re going to be like that, then I triple dog dare you to let go and let loose tonight.” 

“How old are you?” Kat asked. She should be shocked by his response but they had known each other long enough that it didn’t even phase her. 

“I’m the same age as you.” He stuck his tongue out at her as he laughed.  “Are you going to shy away from a triple dog dare?” 

Biting her lip, she pushed her food around on her plate. “No, I’m not going to shy away from a triple dog dare!” 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” He teased, putting his hand near his ear. “Can you repeat that?” 

“I’m not going to shy away from a triple dog dare, old man!” She raised her voice a bit as he laughed, nodding his head. “Make sure those hearing aids are turned up.” 

Looking around them, he quickly flashes her his middle finger as she laughed.  “Love you too Conlon.” 

“It’s Higgins-Conlon, Plums and it’s been that way for the last two years.” He gave her a quick smile, shoveling another forkful in his mouth.

Pushing her plate away, she gave him a tentative smile. “I’m sorry, my apologies Mr. Higgins-Conlon.” 

“Thanks, love.” Sending her an air kiss, he grinned. 

He signaled for the bill, quickly paying it before he leaned back in his seat. “So where is he sending you tonight?” 

“Not sure.” She laughed. “I actually have to read the notebook.” 

Grabbing the notebook from his coat, he tossed it across the table to her. He signed the receipt, watching her crack open the book. 

Hello love, 

I hope you had a wonderful sixth day of Christmas and I hope you had a wonderful dinner with Spot. 

“You told him you were taking me out for dinner?” Cocking an eyebrow she gave him a look. 

Shrugging, he put his credit card back in his wallet. “It may have come up.” 

You’re going on a night adventure tonight. I’m changing it up for today’s adventure. Spot’s going to give you something before you leave him and that’ll give you the ticket to where you need to go.  You’ll need to get on your beloved D-train and take it out to 79th Street and Utrecht. 

You told me that one of your favorite childhood memories was going to look at Christmas lights with your parents and siblings when you were younger. I’ll let you in on a little secret, that was one of my favorite childhood memories as well. It was so cool to see how people would decorate their houses with simple strings of lights and a few blown up characters. 

So tonight I’m sending you to the ULTIMATE Christmas tree lights display in the city.  Once you get there, continue reading the notebook. 

Closing the book, she looked at Spot. “You’re supposed to give me something.” 

“I did . . . I gave you the notebook.” Spot gave her a look, tilting his head. 

Pointing to the notebook, Kat gave him a look. “Jack mentioned that you were going to be giving me something else.” 

“Oh, you’re looking for this.” Grabbing something from his back pocket, he handed it over to her. Accepting it, she saw it was a ticket. Flipping it over, she saw that it was a ticket to the Dyker Heights Christmas tour. 

“He’s sending me to Dyker Heights.” She said, as Spot snorted. 

“Have fun with that one.” Spot chuckled, shaking his head. 

Giving him a look, Kat tilted her head, not understanding why he was laughing.  “Why do you say that?” 

“Have you ever been to Dyker Heights during Christmas?” He raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what she was getting herself into. 

Shaking her head, she slid the ticket in the notebook, before slipping that into her bag, giving Spot a look. “Do I dare ask what I’m getting into?” 

“Nope, you’re not getting that out of me. Just let loose and go with the flow tonight, okay?” Spot gave her a look. “Now go have fun and I cannot wait to hear all about it.” 

Putting her coat on and grabbing her bag, she leaned over and kissed Spot’s cheek before making her way out the door. Walking to the nearest Subway station, she paid before waiting for the train to arrive.  She looked around at the few people who were on the platform, bouncing on her toes to try to stay warm. Finally, the train arrived, as she boarded and found a spot. 

The train ride was quicker than she thought. Before long, she was walking off the train and through the station. She walked a couple of blocks and her eyes went wide at the brightness of the street. Everywhere she looked were covered in multicolored lights. Every street lamp, every fence, and every square inch of the houses were decorated. 

Hopping up on a brick wall fence, she dug the notebook out of her bag, opening it up. 

So you’ve made your way to the Dyker Heights Christmas Extravaganza.  This is the jolliest street within Brooklyn. Apparently people flock from all over the city every year to take in the brightness and cheer. 

So, my challenge to you, lose yourself in the wonder and the awe of the street. Listen to the history on the tour and join in the singing. Just enjoy yourself and have fun. 

Wish I could see your face right now - I’m sure your face is a mixture of fear and pure happiness. Look for Max, he’ll have a surprise for you. 

Closing the book, she looked around her.  Jack was really throwing her for a loop. The past 6 days, he had hidden the surprise in some random places but Max was a new one. 

“Are you Katherine?” Looking up from the notebook, she gave him a look. 

Jumping off the wall, she slowly nodded. “I am. And you are?” 

“The tour guide, Mitch.” He introduced himself. “And we’re about to start the tour.” 

She nodded, making her way over to the group.  Mitch started by greeting everyone before starting the tour.  “The Dyker Heights Lights displays started in the 1980s and it’s been a yearly tradition for many families since. Lucy Spata started the Christmas Lights tradition when she moved to the neighborhood in the 1980s. She decorates her house to carry on the tradition her mother had started.” 

She made her way with the group as they stopped at each of the houses along the street. Mitch would give them a brief history of the house and the family. He described that there usually was a theme that the neighborhood would decide on, leaving it up to each family to decorate their houses how they saw fit. 

Her eyes went wide taking in the Polizzotto’s house - it had a 15-foot-tall Santa Claus, and even taller nutcrackers. 

They continued down the street and stopped in front of another house. A giant Grinch was in the yard along with his dog, Max. Kat’s eyes went wide thinking back to the notebook and Jack’s note - Max. 

Her eyes swept the house, trying to figure out where Jack would hide the box. Nothing jumped out at her at first until her eyes landed on a divet in the brick wall. Leaning over, she grinned seeing a purple wrapped box, where a brick should’ve been. Pulling the box loose, she backed away from the group, letting them walk ahead without her.  Pulling the wrapping paper loose, she tucked it away in her bag before cracking open the box. Inside, laid a red Christmas bulb charm. Grinning, she closed the box back up and tucked it away. 

Grinning, she looked up and down the street and felt absolutely happiness. She grinned, letting herself go, just like she promised Spot, and twirled around as snow started to lightly fall. Throwing her head back, she caught a few snowflakes in her mouth, giggling the entire time.

So that’s day 6. What did you think? Feedback would be amazing and wonderful! 

[hozukitofu]

More chillis please

Being the person who assumes the landscape of their environment upon entering the room and often designated as kin of the furniture, Yachi is very happy when people speak at her and not to her, so that unnecessary conversations do not occur and everyone can go back to ignoring her as they did before.

Acquiring a retail job runs something similar to that vein.

A retail job in a relatively functional business is great. People still try to be friendly - older people, and older men, which, no - but it's not too unbearable.

She gets a message, one day, while she's getting a one-on-one tutoring session by Yours Truly, Chameleon Expert Man Himself, Kinoshita, on calculus and tactics of evading eye contact. They're revising what she should know, she's confident that going to the job, with these new skills, will maximise her invisibility, when her phone vibrates and seeing as the team shares absolutely zero boundaries, she pores over the message with Kinoshita, who bites into a slice of orange.

"New shift?" He chews, eyebrow lifted.

She's noting that down as a skill that she needs to be taught. Kiyoko-san does it very often and it makes grown men cry on the spot. Yachi can weaponise that and turn it on the creeps at work. It can work for her.

"Hmm," she nods, mouth full of orange slices. Kinoshita slaps a napkin to her face, picks up her phone and types a response out. By the time she swallows the pieces of citrusy goods and wipes herself dry of unwanted orange spit, there is a hovering screen with the line I'm good to go on Saturday. Same time as usual? waiting for her approval from her upperclassman.

"All good, Kinoshita-san," she gives him two thumbs up, because he deserves it.

"I'm going inside to tell Chikara we're almost done. Send it and pack up. We're bullying Ryuu to buy us food," he rises, takes his books with him, and gives her a jaunty wave at the doorway.

She hits send. Working at the bakery in Miyagi central shopping district with the locals is great, but working in busy Tokyo where she will know nobody and the customers will assume she is a speaking brick wall?

Ideal.

She sweeps all her books into her tote bag and sprints after Kinoshita.

-.-

The nature of the bakery franchise she works at is that she rings in all the sales when customers approach her with the baked goods and she restocks when bread is running low. That's the official job description.

Recently the bakery, influenced a little by by multiculturalism and mostly by the owner being completely smitten with the Vietnamese literature teacher with the dimpled smile who passes by their bakery every second day, they also have a banh mi side gig.

According to Suga-san, what the workplace is doing is very similar to Subway, but more Asian. Regardless of the plagiarism of what had been done in food chain stores, this is her job and if she wants to save up for a nicer tablet for graphic design then she just has to suck it up princess and cry her way through the world of earning hard cold cash.

So now she makes bread. Per order of the customers who now have to interact with her, human to human.

It is just as uncomfortable for her as it is for the customers so - equivalent exchange?

Anyways. Now she has Stories. The team sets aside time to provide group therapy for Yachi and the Woes of Being a Slave to Capitalism. It is aptly named group therapy because it is a bunch of highschoolers sitting in a loose collection of volley playing brats and consoling a little blonde girl of her retail hardships.

Today's story, she muses as she runs nose first into Asahi's abruptly stopped back, must be the More Chillis Please episide.

It happens like this -

It is 10 o'clock, she had been there for two hours and made, to the worst of her memory and knowledge, at least twenty individual banh mi. She is righteously outraged by the smell of egg mayonnaise, and if somebody shows up in the store again she will Scream.

Anyways, once the moment of Mandatory Two Hour Fury manifested and dissipated, she settles back into greeting customers, offering her services, and registering sales.

She sees the two boys, clad in similar sports jackets, not a uniform, but it is close enough, on their very very tall and lanky frames.

She is immediately brought back to the sight of Kei and Asahi, except Asahi is twice as wide as one of these guys.

Yachi ties up the package for her current customer, bides them farewell and good luck on their date, and turns to the two boys, her Customer Service Voice already on its routine greeting and question.

"Hi, welcome to Dreamworks Bakery. How can I help you today?"

The slightly shorter boy, with bushy eyebrows and wow those really look like caterpillars, wait until the team hears about this, leans forward, friendly smile fixed across his crooked front teeth.

"Hi there, if you don't mind, can I have one pork roll please, that's cut in half."

Yachi sets to work, doesn't think too much or too hard at why there are two boys and only one bread. She picks up the tongs, considering the viable options -

They are sharing this tiny loaf of Vietnamese bread roll, which, is never going to be enough, even for her, and she eats roughly a sixth of the amount Kageyama eats, so that says Something. Maybe it's just a snack. Who knows

The grumpy boy with the face mask willingly walked his friend or walked with him to this busy bakery to wait for him to buy a small snack, which, Amazing Dedication

She finishes it up, takes the knife to cut the bread in half but wonkily, because she has a healthy fear of knives, you know, as a normal sensible human person would. The boys have been chattering between themselves, the one who ordered constantly bumping into his companion, grinning and tugging on his arm. While from the companion's end there is the long suffering Stop being annoying universal eye roll and sigh combo, it's done with the same degree of exasperated fondness Kei huffs at Tadashi, the unspoken but loud What am I going to do with you, you troublesome creature?

Yachi thinks that everything happening is meant to both be a private moment and a routine, and she shouldn't pry. She also thinks that she is reading too much into this, that toxic masculinity is slowly eroding away with her generation and boys can care for each other deeply without the gross gushing of others around them of Amazing, uwu, yaoi babies.

That had actually happened with Suga-san and Akiteru while they were running an errand so Ew. She's not going to become one of those people.

It's not really a big moment of deep euphoria when the shorter boy with the bushy caterpillar eyebrows slips a hand into the other's pocket, leaning right up into his side, under his retreated chin. It is a cuddle manifesting slowly in front of her eyes, and she pauses in her struggle with the paper bags and her two pieces of bread, to blink and the scene make an Ah sound in her lizard brain.

"Cool," she hums.

"Sorry again, but," Caterpillar Brow leans up against the glass, "would you mind adding chillis onto one half?"

Yachi is already stretching one nearest to her hand open. "Tell me when to stop."

He flashes her another winning smile. "You're so valid."

She grins, sprinkling chillis in the tiny half. After a good half of the bread is covered, and he asks her to stop.

Only for the masked friend to lean forward, tug down his face mask, and speak softly.

"Add more, please."

Because Yachi assumes things, as she does, like a presumptuous idiot, she goes on fulfilling the request and thinking that it's for the masked friend. The masked friend doesn't like ordering so his friend had taken up that responsibility for him and he has the taste bud of titanium which explains the excessive chilli situation.

"Is this," she is afraid to ask, "enough?"

She tries to make eye contact with both boys, but because the Presumptuous Moron Energy is on high visibility that day, the masked companion tugs his mask up and draws out his wallet, sighing softly.

"This one," he jerks his head to his companion, "likes his food to strip off skin when he eats. I hold no jurisdiction over his questionable tastes."

It's all kinds of a wonderful, wonderful plot twist. She accepts the payment and wishes them farewell in a rather mechanical manner, and spends a good half of the day just processing everything that transpired. Everything from the masked friend taking the bread from her and pulling the strap onto his wrist so he can hold the other boy's hand, to them knocking heads as they walk away, the excitable companion speaking onto his neck as they disappear into the throng of people.

Asahi apologises for almost running her over and into a medically induced concussion, but she reassures him that she's fine, I've been the victim of a spike before, Asahi-san, this is like a small shove next to that, oh no don't cry, please, I'll live.

Story time is going to be Lit.

[winchester-reload]

Pairing: Dean/Cas Length: 2.5k Tags: Fluff, Mild Angst, Pining, First Kiss, Canon Divergent   Read on AO3

A special thank you to @braezenkitty for being my awesome beta <3

“You just gotta get laid,” Dean said, reseating the burger beside the pile of fries on his plate, this time with a big bite missing. “Or a decent kiss, at least.”

He crumbled a napkin between greasy fingers, tossed it to the middle of the table. Shoved his shirtsleeves up one more time as he tucked his black fed tie under the table ledge and away from the plate. “It’d loosen you up, buddy. And maybe you’d quit tryna live vicariously through horny eighteen-year-olds.”

This was because of the door-to-door canvas. The couple at the park who’d been all over each other, that Castiel hadn’t been able to stop looking at—even after the old, blue-haired lady at 512 Bakersfield Court had made a comment. “Your partner likes to stare…” like she’d never in her seventy-five years of life seen someone curious about such a thing.

“If only that was the first time I heard it, too,” Dean’d smiled back from her stoop, the sharp sun cooking them both in the stuffy Tennessee heat. A marked jab to Cas’ ribs, and a walk to the nearest pub later, and Dean was bringing it up again, because, of course he was. Why talk about the case?

“I only glanced at the couple in the park,” Cas sighed. “It’s not a recurring issue. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Dean laughed, lipped his beer bottle, and took a stout drink. “Sure,” he said. “Glanced at them. Glanced at those girls holding hands last week—though, I’ll give ya that one. I gave ‘em a couple once-overs too.”

“Dean—”

“Point is, it ain’t the first time, and you’re a damn liar.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “My being, or not being with people has nothing to do with anything—”

“Has everything to do with everything when you’re touch-starved.”

“I’m not starved. I’ve been… touched.”

Dean scoffed, swirled his beer bottle. “Sure, if you wanna count Reaper-Fools-Day.”

“I’ve kissed more people than April,” Cas bristled back. “How about we talk about what you know of touch starved instead?”

Dean snapped shut, cocked his head as a follow-up comment seemed to slip from his mouth quick. He replaced the words with a couple fries and averted eyes. “Fine,” he relented around the bite. “And?”

“And… What?”

He looked back up, eyebrows jumping. “Were they any good?”

“Who? The people?”

“The kissing, idiot. Was the kissing any good?”

Cas’ heart flopped. He slipped a hand down his beer bottle, and then back up again nervously. The motion pulled Dean’s attention in a glance, so Cas tucked the rogue thing back onto his lap instead. Fingers lacing together under the shelter of the slick waxed top where no one could see. “I don’t know. Yes?” he offered carefully.

“Are you tellin’ me, or askin’ me right now?”

“No—I mean… ” Cas cleared his throat, shifted in his chair, and listened to the wood slats groan. “They were fine. They were… wet.”

“Wet?” Dean repeated. “Cas, wet is how you describe a swimming pool… Oregon in the winter, maybe… Not a kiss. Never a good kiss.”

“Then how should I describe it?”

“No, I mean… if they were wet, then they were wet—”

“No, please. You tell me.”

Dean’s face suddenly fell wide in mock innocence. “What? You want me to describe a good kiss to you right now? In the middle of a restaurant.”

“If wet is insufficient—”

“Oh, yeah. It’s like, miles of not-sufficient-ness, dude.”

Cas chewed a smile down and gestured Dean’s way. Crossed his arms, and sat back. He watched Dean waffle before finally sliding back in his chair to think. He splayed wide, elbows up on the armrests and knees hugging the corners. His face caught the dim overhead lights, and the sun-kissed healthy pink of his skin shone back like warm earth.

He had white in the creases beside his eyes where his smile lines had shaded him from the harsh afternoon sun. A little cut of tan at the bridge of his nose where his sunglasses sat after he’d gotten sick of squinting through the reflections of every bright midday door.

“Okay, it’s like this,” he said finally, tapping an erratic finger on the neck of his bottle, and pausing to worry his lip. “A kiss is a kiss is a kiss, til it ain’t. If you’re with the right person, then the tension between you’s gonna be thick enough to cut. It’s gonna feel like you’ve got a firecracker in your gut, and that other person’s just flicking the Bic. The minute the two of you kiss, the fuse lights. That bastard explosive rips up through your chest, and pops behind your eyes, and I’m talking—screw seeing colors at that point—you’ll be so wrecked, you’ll know what they sound like.”

Castiel smiled as Dean came back in with a languid look, and a tongue tip between his teeth. He peeled forward, hovering over the table, so much closer than before, that there was only the dragging smell of his burger all tangled up in his woody cologne for Cas to breathe.

“That’s a good kiss,” he said slowly, and maybe it was Castiel’s imagination, but the sun kiss on Dean’s cheeks had spread to his ears now. “Sounds good, don’t it?”

“It sounds very good,” Castiel agreed. “Very surreal.”

Dean let a long, animated sigh into the room and it mixed happy with the gentle murmur of the busy forks and glasses around them. “Oh, it’s very real,” he said. “Just not very common.”

He poked absently at the pile of cooling fries, and sucked the salt from the end of his finger. The gorgeous smacking sound it made curled red ribbons in Cas’ stomach. “Still, you find someone who’ll give you that, and it’s the kinda thing that’ll right some wrongs. Know what I mean?”

Cas took a long drink, smile falling as the carbonation from his beer prickled reality back into his tongue. “Sure,” he said quietly. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Dean’s mouth thinned, and his eyes ping-ponged away uneasy. He tailed and tacked down the waitress, kept locked on her as she floated behind the counter poking something into the mounted LED screen beside the register. “Doesn’t that rub you, though?” he asked, “not knowing for yourself. Don’t you… want that with somebody?”

Cas puffed surprised, and his mouth went dry. Try as he might, the beer wouldn’t wet it. “I mean, yes…” he said earnestly, and the admission ate holes in his stomach.

“Then… how come you ignore all the waitresses I send your way? You’re never gonna get it if you don’t even try.”

Cas was suddenly, and shamefully aware of his attention at Dean’s lips, and when Dean snagged a glance at him, Cas tore his eyes away, shoved them onto the table instead. Focused everything he had on the bleed of condensation below the cool, brown bottle to his left.

“Those people wouldn’t change anything,” he said to the ring. “Colors were never meant to make sounds for some.”

Dean fidgeted the fries again, finally pushed them aside, and brushed the salt off his hand this time instead of eating it. “I guess we better head out,” he said, flagging the waitress. “Sam’s waiting.”

They paid, and headed back out into the melty summer heat. It was sunset, but the air was still laying in the city thick as a wool blanket. Shadows stretched through the streets like plastic-capped Halloween fingers, crowding up in the alleyways and turns, painting the dingy brick walls black.

Cas flared his coat to check his back pocket for his wallet as they passed a couple people with hungry eyes, but just as quickly remembered that he’d dropped his last twenty for the meal, and let the impulse to feed them drift out. Still, he welcomed the brief breeze it gave him, and he wondered if maybe it was getting time to rethink the coat. Grace or not, he seemed to be touchier to the temperatures these days, and it was starting to seem like wardrobe was becoming more important—practically speaking.

Dean shed his own suit coat as if he’d just read Castiel’s mind, and slung it over his shoulder with a hooked finger. His shirtsleeves were still shoved up to his elbows under the blazer, as if he’d put it on after dinner, distracted. “Nothing fancy,” he murmured to his feet.

“Pardon?”

“Hmm—?” He looked over quick, eyes wide, before blinking them back down. “What?”

“I just didn’t catch what you said.”

Dean shook his head. “I didn’t—” But when Cas frowned, opened his mouth to contest, Dean relented. “Oh, you mean the, uh, thing I said out loud…” He cleared his throat, added “apparently” under his breath, and slowed down for some oncoming foot traffic.

“I was just thinking about the, uh, Nichols’ story,” he said, temporarily falling in line behind Cas as a group of people passed. He touched the small of Cas’ back out of nowhere, and kept his hand there. Cas’ chest snagged. “The alibi Brent was peddling didn’t feel right.” His voice was soft in Cas’ ear, almost breathy—but brief, and when he pulled up beside Cas again, sidewalk clear, Cas grabbed a shaky glance, but Dean wasn’t watching.

“You, uh, think they have something to do with the black magic we’re seeing?” Cas asked, and his voice managed to pour out level, despite his stomach coming off that quick rollercoaster dip.

“I mean, the house was a little much for a twenty-hour a week gas-slinging gig at the local area Gas n’ Sip, don’t you think?”

It was the most they’d talked about the case all day.

“Fancy,” Cas reiterated, then, “I certainly never would’ve been able to afford that place when I worked there.” For some reason, the comment pulled Dean tight at the joints. “But I couldn’t even afford hourly motels.”

“Well… the hourlies charge more.”

Cas frowned again, started to ask why when Dean squirmed past it. “But, you’re right,” he said. “Doesn’t add up no matter how you flip the numbers.”

“So, do you suspect they’re the source of the black magic, or victims of it?”

They hopped down the curb, checking the way for traffic, and ended up on the grassy side of Spring Street, just down from their motel. Dean popped a piece of gum in his mouth, balled the wrapper, and stuck it back in his pocket instead of tossing it away.

“I suspect there’s something screwy going on,” he said, “and that’s as far as I’ve got.”

He plucked the gum from his mouth a moment later, and flicked it to the bushes, ran a hand down his face. “Sam’s doing backgrounds as we speak. Here’s hoping there’s a smoking gun in there somewhere. But, ‘til we get that, we’re pulling straws.”

The streetlamps kicked on, buzzing like fireflies in the thick night, the light falling on the street in goldweave strings as they hustled past a defunct sporting goods store—hollow bones brick and mortar now. No one missing what used to be inside.

Dean scanned the streets, watched another few strings of dusk foot traffic pass on the left while he chewed his cheeks.

“Did Sam find anything at the morgue?” Cas pressed, because the silence seemed oddly unnerving.

“No—I mean, uh, I don’t know. Haven’t talked to him.”

“I thought we were meeting him.”

Dean’s attention caught up in a little alcove at the end of the street and he gripped his jacket tighter, tucked his chin and let a heavy breath out. “We are,” he said quietly.

“Not at the morgue?”

“Um, no, he’s at the motel,” Dean said, and he sounded nervous. “Waiting to take us.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll find a hex bag, or—”

Dean suddenly shoved Cas’ sideways, off the street and into the alcove, shadows tangling up in the corners of it, all those long witch fingers bleeding to flat black. Castiel grunted, surprised. “What’re you—” and his throat went dry as Dean pushed him into the stuccoed brick backside of a closed Chinese restaurant, hands curling up on both sides of Cas’ jaw, but fingers combing a soft arc “—doing?”

“Nothin’, if you don’t want me to,” Dean whispered, conviction skippy at best. His body was hot against Cas. Heavy and hard. Nothing like April’s… Meg’s… Hannah’s…

The question—and it was a question—coiled in Cas’ belly like a fever dream, but an answer never had a chance of bubbling back out. Because a response would’ve been moot before it ever left his lips. Castiel’s pause was too long to be a no, and his fingers had already found their way to Dean’s waist. They were making note of the way his blue button down clung to his sides, like the tee underneath had been soaking in all that sudden, nervous heat since before they’d ever even left the bar.

And so, Dean brushed their lips together, not a hesitation so much as dipping a toe, and a rush of butterflies went right to Cas’ head without mercy. Cas whimpered without meaning to, and Dean landed the meat of the kiss, hands falling down Cas’ neck and dragging that unruly sensation through. His lips were soft and his cheeks, five o’clock gritty. He worked Cas’ mouth open with a roll of his jaw, and a flirty burst of mint graced Cas with the pass of Dean’s tongue.

Castiel melted into it, fingers curling around the back of Dean’s head as he tried desperately to get a handhold on something. Their hips rolled together. Cas stole himself a handful of Dean’s ass. Felt Dean hard against him as he moved against Cas’ thigh.

Dean’s breath went rocky, like he was fighting some kind of tightrope walk of heavy and thin, and the sound he made was dirty enough to sin. Castiel nosed him, combed fingers through his hair as Dean pulled back. His eyes fell hot on Cas’ mouth. The shadows ate the flush from his face, but not the burning heat of it.

“Now tell me again,” he whispered, voice licking at Cas ear and coming out like gravy. “Tell me again what a kiss feels like.”

Castiel huffed, tried to catch his running brain. He couldn’t help himself, hands still at Dean’s waist, he held him there. The both of them were hard, and neither of them were in a hurry to do anything about it. “I would say… green makes a helluva sound,” he whispered back.

He watched a wicked smile crawl through Dean’s face. “There it is,” Dean hummed, dragging a chill with his thumb from the skin he’d bared at Cas’ side, and chasing it to Cas’ neck with a soft breath, a kiss. “An’ I’m just getting started too.”

Then, he pulled away, the absence of his sticky heat leaving Cas bare. The gravel chewed under Dean’s heels as he headed for the street, pausing only to stoop for the jacket he’d shed at some point on the way. He shook it off, straightened his tie. “Let’s go! We’re late!”

Castiel swallowed, hand to his stomach, and peeled himself from the brick.

[marvelhead17]

Miracle (Original Female Character x Cable)

Chapter 25

Summary: “How did you fix it?” he asked. “Ask Ellen the Teenage Warhead,” Wade shrugged as he stood up, “As for baby Hitler he ended up having a diaper change, funny story I was actually going to call Cable since he was so keen on killing Russel, I thought this would be like taking candy from a baby, if that means replacing it with a bullet that is,”

Warnings to cover the whole fic: Graphic depictions of violence, use of weapons, mild to strong language, mentions of rape, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, referenced torture and psychological abuse/manipulation, nightmares and night terrors, sexual humour, sexual content.

Word count: 1.7k

One Month Later, Early Afternoon

“So we need to get pop tarts for Wade to shut his trap, Colossus needs a new sketchpad, again, since he’s been drawing like crazy, what we are we-” Hayden paused as they were walking and stopped as she eyed someone walking passed them.

“Hades?” Nathan turned raising a brow as he realised she was no longer next to him. “Hades?”

Her head had turned as far as it could naturally so she turned on her heels and started walking in the direction that the person was going in. She weaved her way through the crowded walkway and kept her eyes focused on the man as his pace quickened, and she noted his sudden notion of ducking into the nearest alleyway between two buildings.

   As she turned the corner sharply after the man, her arms had been grabbed and she was forcibly pinned against the brick wall, her wrists being held down against her backside by cold metal while the other human hand pressed firmly against the back of her hand and made her face squash against the wall.

“Why are you following me?” he questioned aggressively, “Who sent you?”

Hayden twitched her left arm and loosened the man’s grip on her wrists which surprised him and then she grabbed his metal wrist before pinning him to the wall the same way he had done to her just moments before.

“Nobody,” she then let him go, “Don’t you recognise me?” he turned around quickly to face her, his icy eyes scanned her before he shook his head.

“No, should I?”

   Nathan rounded the corner and was relieved to find that she was not causing some kind of scene, they didn’t need the public attention after her incidents last month. He found her staring angrily at a man with dark shoulder length hair, he was roughly Hayden’s age and slightly taller than her.

  A metal arm?

  He glanced at his own arm briefly and shook his head.

   “You’re telling me you don’t remember anything?” Hayden asked him.

“What is it you want me to remember? I’ve never seen you before in my life,”

“Do you remember Hydra?”

“I- yes, they… brainwashed me and controlled me for some time, how do you know about Hydra?”

  “Hades what’s going on?” Nathan asked as he stepped closer, seeing her getting angrier with every question she asked the man.

“You’re telling me you don’t remember what you did to me?”

“What I did to you?” the man frowned, “No, I- I really don’t know who you are, I’m sorry”

“Stop lying,” she hissed and grabbed his throat, lifting him from the ground and pinning him to the wall.

“Hades- he clearly doesn’t know you,” Nathan came to her side and touched her arm cautiously, it relaxed slightly but she still stared the man down with hatred in her eyes. “Put him down and let him go,” he silently thanked whoever was looking out for him that the others weren’t around to hear him say this to her for a second time, “Please,”

  She stared at him in disbelief; Nathan gave a brief and simple nod and then brushed his hand down to her wrist, encouraging her to lower the man down to the ground. She gave in to his wishes begrudgingly and released her grip as well.

“Ya ran'she byla tvoyey myshka,” she suddenly spoke in Russian, the man only frowned at her.

“I’m sorry; I don’t know what you’re telling me.”

“I should have known,” she sighed, “Sorry, this was a waste of time,” she walked out the alleyway hurriedly.

“Hades!” Nathan called before turning to look at the man, “Well- whatever you did I’m sure karma will come to get your ass, if not then I will,” he warned before running after Hades, leaving the man confused and alone in the alleyway.

                              He finally caught up with her as she stood in front of the Walmart where they had been heading to in the first place, seemingly waiting for him as if what she had just done had never happened, and he frowned and lifted his hands in the air.

“What the hell was that all about, huh? You want to end up in jail again?” he asked angrily.

“It’s- I’ll explain later, it’s not something you talk about out in the open,” she said calmly, the opposite of what she had just been moments earlier, “I’m sorry I just couldn’t… contain myself.”

“But it involved Hydra again; those bastards really fucked you up huh?”

“Your choice of words is impeccable,” she chucked slightly as he frowned and turned his head, and then she turned to him, “Now let’s get this shit over with, I hate shopping,” she walked through the automatic doors and Nathan followed behind closely.

“Even if it’s for food?” he asked, hoping changing the subject might ease the tension that still hung in the air.

“It’s only worth it if it’s for food, otherwise hell no,”

   He smirked at that, he had caught her on occasion binge eating after days of fasting, he didn’t think it was very healthy but she insisted her body needed only a bit of fuel to last for days at a time and that it wouldn’t be harmful unless she didn’t eat for longer than a week.

One of the things he learned was that she could practically thrive for days on just eating a jar of sugar and yet she still remained healthy, admittedly still quite curvy in some areas. He shook his head, his thoughts were derailing in the middle of a department store, and he was now aware of the fact that he had been staring at her backside as she walked ahead of him.

                                                           * * *

  Late Afternoon

They returned to the mansion and gave everyone their requested goods before settling down on separate couches, nothing had been said during their travelling back and the questions that were burning through Nathan’s mind had finally annoyed him enough that they all came tumbling out at once.

  “Who was that guy? What’s with the metal arm? What does ‘mush-kah’ mean? And what did Hydra have to do with either of you?”

“That’s already too many questions, do you have to know right now?” she sighed as she connected her earphones to her phone.

“Yes, the curiosity is killing me,”

“Ugh, fine.” She threw her phone to the side and crossed her legs on the couch, “That man’s name is Bucky Barnes, the metal arm is because he lost his during a mission way before I knew him - myshka is a Russian term of endearment, which you said terribly wrong by the way, and Hydra- I’m not going to explain that right now, I’m getting flashbacks that I didn’t want to begin with already,”

  “Did I just hear you say Bucky Barnes?” Wade asked carrying a box of poptarts and plonked himself next to Hayden, chewing on an uncooked pop tart happily, “That piece of shit dickhead who raped you in Hydra?”

Her eyes widened as she stared at Wade.

“What? Oh shit, I didn’t think I said that part out loud-” he stood up quickly.

“I’m going to fucking end you!” she yelled as she rolled her sleeve up and got up from the couch after him.

  “Wait,” Nathan grabbed her wrist as she was about to make contact with Wade’s jaw. She turned to him with a mix of expressions on her face that included anger, shame and fear. “He raped you?”

She yanked her hand back from him and looked away.

“I wouldn’t have stopped you from killing him if I had known-”

“I didn’t want to kill him! I just-” she breathed out a little shakily, “I just wanted to get answers from him, and then maybe torture him if I really needed to,”

“Answers, like what?”

“Oh no,” she stretched out the last part, “I think I’ve shared enough for today, I’m going to my room,” she grabbed her phone and ran upstairs before the men could say anything more.

  “She was raped?” Nathan sat down, his mind racing, thinking back to the bar where she completely wrecked that man who tried to make a pass at her, “How long ago?” he swallowed hard, uncertain if he actually wanted to know the answer to that.

“I- maybe she is the one who should answer that,” Wade mumbled awkwardly.

“I don’t think she’s going to talk about it at least a month, I can’t wait that long,”

Wade sighed, “It was thirteen years ago, going on fourteen soon,”

“Wait, she’s twenty-eight-years-old, you’re telling me she was fifteen when that bastard-” he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, to think the words he wanted to say.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Holy fuck,” Nathan breathed out.

                                                          * * *

  Evening

Nathan watched as she sat by the kitchen counter and spooned another mouthful of Nutella into her mouth, letting the chocolate linger and melt before swallowing and spooning another load in.

 “You’re staring,” she suddenly spoke making him jump, “Wade told you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” he paused and he took the seat next to her, “You were so young,” his eyes softened and he focused his attention on the jar so that she would relax a little.

She glanced at him, “I know, but it was my fault,”

“How in the hell was it your fault?” Nathan asked in disbelief.

“I was in love with him,” she drew her hands over her face and sighed, “Stupidly in love with him.”

“That doesn’t mean he could ju-”

“I let him,” she said irritably, “I consented, but then it went too far, multiple times. I thought that’s what love was,” she stared down at the jar in front of her and played with the spoon.

“Because your father had told you that love is hard, and the more it hurts the stronger it is,” Nathan recalled from seeing her memories.

“Yes,” she swallowed, “So I didn’t understand that it was wrong, not at the time. Anyway, that’s enough outta me tonight thanks, see ya in the morning.” She got up from her seat and took the jar with her as she walked out the room.

“Yeah, see ya,” Nathan said quietly.

  He felt guilty for the fact that he had pressed such a sensitive topic for her, but he was glad she opened up more to him, it only made his feelings to protect her even stronger. And he swore to himself that the next time he saw that Barnes character he’d make him sorry for ever laying a finger on her. That was a promise.

________________________________________________________________

Translations in order:

“Ya ran'she byla tvoyey myshka,” - I used to be your myshka

>> Chapter 26 <<