#like just sit me in a friggin corner for an hour-

[inkblot-inc]

If Jaws has to be up by a certain time when they aren’t on a mission it’s been discovered that Wanda or Nat need to be sent to wake them. Because they’ll break any sort of alarm clock, including their phone, to make it shut up. And when Tony asked Friday to wake Jaws that just ended with Jaws trashing Tony’s lab. Wanda had put them in a ‘time out’ for that. Which just means that she floated them in the air with her powers while she continued on with her business till she thinks they have atoned for their guppy crimes.

I can see this happening a lot earlier on, but Jaws does fall back into that from time to time

Wanda just watching Jaws' intimidating figure flailing in the air and making no progress trying to get down 😂

"You can't keep doing this to me Wanda! Sharks are meant to float in WATER you know!"

Wanda looks up from her book and slightly tilts her head to the side, "I can do this for as long as I want, gup. You brought this onto yourself-"

"I know, I know, and I'm SORRY!"

Wanda raised a brow in doubt, "You're sorry about trashing Tony's lab?"

Jaws eyes glinted with hope, "Yes, yes I am!"

Wanda set her book down for a second. "Mm... Ten more minutes. It's not good to lie, guppy."

Jaws eyes widened as they watched her get up and walk out of the room without warning. "Wha-?! COME ON I HAVE TO PEE!"

Nat just recording the whole thing on the side for later-

[swamp-chicken]

distant worlds, ethubs, 2042 words

“You know, I really should have established a timeline for how long I would be your employee,” Bdubs sighs, stocking boxes with enderpearls. “Because I’m sure not doing this forever.”

Etho is sitting at his desk, idly doodling in the corner of his accounting book. “Aw, you’re not?”

Bdubs stretches, cracking his neck. “No! I need to go and build stuff! Make things! I have my own life, you know.”

Bdubs’ pink shorts are riding up a little. Etho tries not to look. “Mmhmm.” he says instead, his go-to when he loses track of a conversation. The doodle on his accounting book is starting to look suspiciously like a series of little hearts. Etho hastily scribbles them out. 

‘You know, you don’t have to sit here and supervise me. I’m not going to wreck your shop or anything.”

“Yeah, but…” But it’s been years since Etho has had Bdubs like this, working at his side. 

Bdubs sighs dramatically. “You don’t trust me?!”

Etho spirals the pen around the page. “You’re a trainee, I gotta keep you on the straight and narrow.” In this case, lying is less pathetic than telling the truth.

Bdubs huffs, but doesn’t argue. They subside back into silence, Etho stifling a smile at the muffled expletive Bdubs lets out when a shulker box closes on his hand. 

The pen travels across the page.

Years ago, a day like this wouldn’t have been so rare. 

 ———

Bdubs was humming and hawing over Etho’s newly-constructed bridge.

“It’s bad,” Etho sighed.  “You can say it’s bad.”

“No, no, no,” Bdubs chided. “No one’s saying that. It just needs a little… umm…“ he rummaged through his inventory, then brightened. “Leaves! Dude, just add some leaves.” He scattered some across the bridge railing with a flourish. “See? Fixes everything.”

Etho hummed, unconvinced. “And then maybe some… trap doors under those?”

Bdubs clapped his hands. “Oh yes, that’ll do it.”

Etho placed the trap doors and stepped back to take in the full picture alongside Bdubs. “I dunno…”

Bdubs’ hand dropped to his shoulder and squeezed. His touch was distractingly warm. “It looks great! Very rustic.” 

Etho tilted his head. It did look a little better than before. 

Satisfied that today’s job was mostly done, he went to go empty his inventory. Bdubs decided to stick around as he worked. He had been doing that a lot more lately. 

Etho put away the final stack of cobblestone and cleared his throat. “There’s actually, uh, something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bdubs was tooling around on Beyonc, showing off her elegant lines and five-block jump.

Etho watched them circle the area and tried to breathe through his sudden spike of anxiety.“Remember the game we worked on? In the modded server?”

Bdubs kicked Beyonc into a flying leap that landed her on top of Etho’s chest stack. “How could I forget? All those hours wasted!”

“Well, yeah.” Etho chewed his lip. “I was actually thinking of building something like that here. In vanilla.”

“You can do that? With redstone?”

Etho shrugged. “I can try.”

Bdubs snorted. “Friggin’ genius.”

“The thing is, though…”

Bdubs nudged Beyonc forward and she landed gracefully before Etho.

“The thing is though…” Etho continued. “I actually may need help—” 

“I’ll do it,” Bdubs interrupted, before Etho had even finished his sentence. 

“You sure?” Etho hesitated. “I don’t want you to put you on the spot or anything…”

“Of course!” Beyonc reared and Bdubs sat comfortably astride her. “We’ll do it together. As a team.”

It was Etho’s first time leading a big project, so he wanted it to do things right. He chose the location and dug out the area himself. He even decided to build a worker’s shack where he and Bdubs could sleep and store all of their materials. 

In retrospect, Etho thought as he mapped out the floorplan, marking two separate bedrooms for him and Bdubs, he shouldn’t have been nervous about inviting Bdubs to join. Bdubs was a kind person and they had already tackled several projects together.

Etho paused. So kind that he probably felt like he couldn’t turn Etho down. So kind that he unflinchingly put up with all of Etho’s various idiosyncrasies and insistences. So kind that, any time they had a disagreement, he would capitulate with a laugh, easy and unbothered.

“You don’t have to help,” Etho blurted the first time Bdubs came to visit the worker’s shack. 

Bdubs was standing in the doorway of the bedroom Etho had built for him, but still a glimmer of uncertainty crossed his face. “What, you don’t want me here?”

There was a lump in Etho’s throat. “No, I just…I don’t want to force you into anything.”

Bdubs placed his bed down in the room like a declaration. “There’s no forcing.” He met Etho’s gaze and smiled, so warmly that Etho felt it in his chest. “I’m gonna decorate this place so good.”

Etho had worked with Bdubs before, but he had never lived with him. It was different, not having to say their goodbyes at the end of the day.  Instead, they walked back to the worker’s shack side by side, chattering about everything and nothing. It was different, waking up in the morning and finding Bdubs already in the kitchen, sleep-mussed and cooking, asking Etho how he liked his eggs. 

It was different— Bdubs’ toothbrush in the bathroom, the wet puddle after he showered. The flowers that appeared in the windowsill and the laughter that echoed through the halls. Prepared meals, easy company, warm nights of doing nothing much but enjoying each other’s presence.

It was a different kind of torture, Etho learned, having Bdubs so near and liking him so much. He was too kind, making eggs just the way Etho liked, telling stories that made him laugh, helping unflinchingly with the enormous task of building this arena. He was so kind that Etho couldn’t help falling in love with him. 

Nights were the worst, were the time when Etho felt furthest from any semblance of rationality or self-control. Lying in bed, staring through the darkness, he felt hyperaware that Bdubs lay just a short distance across the hall. So kind that he just might let Etho climb into bed with him. 

Etho rolled over and willed himself to sleep. 

Days passed, and then weeks. Spring was pushing into summer and the days were getting hotter. One particular day the heat was so oppressive that it even invaded the underground bunker where Etho had been doing most of the redstone wiring. 

When the sweat started dripping into Etho’s eyes, he had no choice but to take a break. He stood, wiping sweat from his face with his shirt bottom, and took a deep draught from his water bucket.

Bdubs, he knew, was probably even worse off. He was building outside in the blazing sun. Etho decided to check on him. He felt bad that Bdubs was working so hard on a project that Etho himself wasn’t certain they could finish. 

The end of the season had been announced a week ago and since then they had been scrambling to complete the arena before they had to leave this world and go to the next. There was a pit in Etho’s stomach every time he thought about it. This had happened to them last time, and now it was happening on the project that he was leading— the project that he had roped Bdubs into, that they had spent so much time on.

The worst part, though, was leaving their home. Etho didn’t know when he had started calling the worker’s shack home, but he had. It certainly felt more like home than any other place he had built on the server. He couldn’t deny that was in a large part due to Bdubs’ presence. 

He didn’t know what the next world would hold. He didn’t know if he would find an excuse to live with Bdubs again. He didn’t even know if Bdubs would want to work with him again, especially after this project had turned out to be such a thankless grind.

Etho found Bdubs building on the outskirts of the arena. He was shirtless, sweat beading along his shoulderblades. The sight was so overwhelming that Etho almost turned to leave.

Bdubs was grunting with the effort of building a wall, dropping blocks into place. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard,” Etho ventured once he felt more in-control. “I’m not even paying you.”

Bdubs put his blocks down with a heavy sigh. “You think at this point my ego’s not all tied up in this too?”

Etho snorted and drew near. “Good point.” This close, he could see the smile lines crinkling at the corner of Bdubs’ eyes. “Want a break?” He held out his water bucket and a snack. 

“Golden carrots!” Bdubs exclaimed. “You spoil me.”

He took the water bucket first, though, and drank from it deeply. Etho’s eyes were drawn to his throat as he swallowed, to the sweat droplets that chased each other down his torso. 

“Ahh,” Bdubs sighed, refreshed, and Etho snapped his gaze upwards. “Do you mind?” Bdubs asked, gesturing to the water.

Etho shook his head, confused, but before he had much time to ponder, Bdubs was tipping the bucket over his own head, sending water crashing down around him. 

Etho squawked and hopped backwards out of the splash zone.

“Oh,” Bdubs groaned, “Oh, that feels so good.” His hair was dripping, plastered to his head. Water was still sheeting down his body and soaking into his jeans. His eyes fluttered open and he caught Etho’s shocked gaze. He blinked. “You said you didn’t mind!” 

There was a note of petulance in Bdubs’ voice that wouldn’t have been there a few months ago, before they had started living in each other’s pockets. Before Bdubs—before he was comfortable—

Something inside Etho snapped. 

Bdubs lifted the bucket uncertainly, “I can get more water, I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Etho carefully took the bucket out of Bdubs’ hands. 

“…Etho?” Bdubs was stepping back awkwardly, falling back on those sloppy forms that had gotten him killed by Etho more than once.

Etho grabbed Bdubs’ hand and Bdubs froze, blinking up at him from under his soaked fringe, eyes soft and worried. 

“You—“ Etho tried. “I—“ His ears burned with embarrassment.

He gave up on speaking and pulled the mask underneath his chin, pressed his lips to Bdubs’ hand.

“Oh,” Bdubs said. So kind that he didn’t pull away.

Etho turned Bdubs’ hand and pressed a lingering kiss to his palm.

“Oh,” Bdubs said again, voice hushed. “You don’t— do you?”

———

Etho wants to reach out, wants to take Bdubs hand, but he can’t. He’s too afraid Bdubs will run through his fingers like water, melt away like he has so many times before.

Bdubs is squirmy that way, surprisingly hard to pin down. One minute he’s swearing his eternal devotion, the next he’s mocking Etho, eyes gleaming with mirth. There’s months and years he’s not even there at all, times when he’s nothing but a sore spot in Etho’s memory. 

That day in the unfinished arena, Bdubs had kissed him. His hair had dripped into Etho’s eyes. Etho hadn’t thought anything of kindness that night when they curled together, Etho’s chin propped on his chest. Bdubs was too busy looking at him like he was a puzzle he had found the last piece to. 

Things change, Etho knows. That world ended, a new one began. Bdubs never kissed him again. 

It can never be like what it once was, Etho fears. Here is too distant from there.

“Done!” Bdubs announces. “Your enderpearls are all sorted. Now can I leave?”

Etho sighs, but he doesn’t have any good reason to keep Bdubs longer. “Yeah, that should be it for today.” 

Bdubs is already packing his inventory. He pauses on his way out the door. “You know, you didn’t even comment on my uniform.”

Etho is caught off guard. “I—I didn’t?”

Bdubs gives a spin. His legs are on full display. “I made it just for you!”

Etho swallows. When he meets Bdubs’ gaze, he winks. “I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.”

[kanmom51]

JK's Weverse live 2 Feb 2023

OMG OMG OMG.

JK man, what did you do to us?

4 hours of JK. 4 friggin' hours.

Before I dive into the abyss I will say that this post is based on multiple trustworthy translation accounts, seeing there is no official translation nor will there be for quite some time now (4 hr. live, lol). I will update if any changes need to be made (after the official translation comes out).

Also, This is a long ass post, so breach yourselves, get yourselves your favourite snacks sit down and enjoy the ride. So so much to come.

Starting with his:

Knock knock, cheeky JK.

Let's sum up the 4 hours of the live shall we:

JK did the live in Brunnan.

JK's hair is long.

JK loves Bammi.

JK talked about his tattoos.

JK drank more beer than I could ever in one seating. Or maybe even 2 or 3 or 4...(I am a lightweight though).

JK was tired and still continued the live.

JK isn't working on his album at the moment, he's at home not doing much, well not working in any case.

RM commented a lot.

Tae commented a lot and got JK to do a live on IG that turned out to be pretty short, just surpassing his 7 min. live a few days back.

JK sang. A LOT.

JK sang Vibe. Twice. After calling JM cool, then adding Taeyang is cool too. He also gave us a little dance move.

Ooh, and we got JK singing Sam Smith's Unholy.

That's 4 hours in a nut shell I guess.

End of post.

Nah, gotcha.

We have tons to cover, so let's get it:

JK starts the live telling us he's not really supposed to be doing a live, I told you, cheeky boy.

Lol.

JK moves on to tell us he's not working on his album at the moment, and actually not doing much of anything at the moment.

I'm all for it. After 10 years of working practically non stop, throughout his youth, he deserves this time off.

JK does say he's spending time alone, at times hasn't left the house for 6 days in a row.

And as the introvert that he is, and as the introvert that I am, I get him. Totally. I could stay at home for days and feel totally content.

Doesn't mean he's not doing anything though. He's doing what he wants to do as opposed as living by a schedule. Taking the time to watch shows, videos, clips he wants to watch is one of those things he told us he does. I just do hope he's in a good mind space. The past couple of years were not easy. The not knowing not easy. Knowing MS is around the corner not easy. Jikook having to adjust to the new reality not easy. He needs this rest and I'm happy he's getting it.

Makes me think though about those stories told of him going out on the town like going skiing or snowboarding or spending time with Tae all the time (I literally have an ask in my inbox telling me just that). Dunno, perhaps it's time for many to finally start questioning these unsubstantiated stories?

Now don't come at me. Not saying JK and Tae aren't close friends. They might be both meeting up occasionally and/or playing online games together all day everyday. What I'm saying is that I'm sick of unsubstantiated stories someone sprouts on Twitter turned into facts without any actual proof.

And it's always the TKK side of things - believing until proven wrong. Because when the shoe is on the other foot, aka JKK, the knee jerk reaction is to not believe until proven true.

Just a thought...

After JK talks about how long his hair has grown, and damn, it has grown so long, Bam makes an appearance. Bammi. How we missed him so.

I truly think Bam deserves a whole post of his own, and I will give you one. I promise. Cause so many cute Bamkook moments, including a lethal Bam kiss.

JK's asked about Jin and says he thinks he's doing well and that he's in touch with them occasionally in their group chat. That same group chat many fans forget they actually have to communicate amongst themselves and not via their public IG accounts. That is when they don't communicate personally with each other privately.

JK brings up not seeing "Yoongi marry me".

Vibe.

Next JK started with the karaoke. We got to enjoy JK's flawless voice throughout his live. But he started us off with Vibe.

JK singing and dancing vibe on his live - all I've been living for the past couple of weeks, lol - singing it TWICE.

This too deserves a whole separate post, and it probably will get one.

Saying that, JK with singing Vibe (do I have to remind he did it twice?) has now performed 7 of JM's songs while live or recording content.

JK continues to sing several songs by TXT, New Jeans, Seventeen, RM, etc. Like I said, karaoke night full blow (filling up the 4 hour live).

A list of his songs throughout the live can be found here:

JK was asked if he has a tattoo on his back, to which he said he doesn't, only on his right arm.

We had a little JK-Army flirtation going on, as per usual, lol.

Mr. Jeon Jungkook also thinks maybe he's the next to get appendicitis. I sure hope he's wrong.

And that at 25 yo he's getting old.- everything hurts. Why am I not surprised (man cannot do anything half way).

RM popped in to visit JK's live, a little drunk perhaps, lol.

And JK...

Next comes the thing everyone has been literally waiting for...

The tattoos.

I know this will be twisted and turned and I feel sorry for the accounts with their anons open, cause this, not surprisingly, is turning into to a shit storm...

There are a few translations out there, most not full ones, and others pretty unreliable.

So, I'm still on the lookout for a reliable full translation for these. I've found a couple that feel like they have an agenda.

I did find this one, a full translation that seems to be more or less on the up and up - lines up with all the bits and pieces I've found in the accounts I do trust.

One specific tattoo JK neglects to talk about is the eclipse tattoo. Unintentional you think? I think not.

So, let's get down to what we really came for, eh? His hand tattoo. The talk of the town.

I know JK said the J is for JK. JK and Army.

Loud and clear, right?

But is it?

Is JK sharing the whole story with us?

Why then on the ring finger?

Why over the M?

Why not allow anything come between the two?

Also funny, as @jaksal pointed out, how for JM's birthday in 2021 for some reason the J and M were kept apart, distanced, quite like the J and M on JK's finger. Apart but not parted (mostly).

Another question I can't help but ask is since when does J stand for JK? Really. Please tell me when was the first or last time JK ever referred to himself as J.

Jungkook calls himself JK. He is referred to by others as JK. When he writes his name in Roman letters he writes JK. Never J.

On top of that, why not put the J over the A? Would make more sense, J + Army from the start...

And if he decided to put the crown over the A, which he did, then why not put the J over any other finger other than the actual ring finger that happened to make a lovely clear and constantly touched up and darkened JM?

Could JK share the whole story with us even if he really wanted to?

JK in essence debunked the story that Army were living for since 2019 - that Army with the J stood for all the 7 members of BTS. The A inverted standing for V.

Yes, he said the J is for JK, but could he say he added the J on his ring finger over the M to make JM? The only one out of all of the members he decided to tattoo onto his skin, have on his hand for all to see?

Telling us J over the M on his ring finger stood for JM would be literally outing the two as a queer couple. No ifs ands or buts.

And you can't say the same about him telling us army is army. Because admitting army was for all the members wouldn't put him in a queer relationship with one of the members, all while having JM on his ring finger would seal the deal on that.

So what did JK do talking about his tattoos? He omitted the JM, and the eclipse - the two specific known tattoos that can link him directly to JM (and if the eclipse had nothing to do with JM why not talk about it too?).

Oh, and I know what comes next -

Being asked "are you calling him a liar?"

Heck no.

But telling a necessary untruth, or embellishing the truth, or omitting some facts, or perhaps the right way of seeing it is giving us the acceptable excuse.

Nope. Not lying. But all the above... yeah, that.

Seriously, take a second to think clearly. What was he supposed to do? Really? Admit that the J and M are connected and mean JM?

I've been seeing people talking about how JK didn't realise what he was doing. That he didn't see the placement came out like JM. Please give me a break. Do they really have such low regard for JK?

The man that came up with this:

Wouldn't realise the J placed over the M makes JM - Jimin. Ha-ha-ha.

With or without the next paragraph, JK knew what he was doing.

But if we do trust this specific translation, JK points out that he placed the crown over the A. Thoughtfully. Intentionally. Do we really think he wouldn't have had the same thought process with the J?

Please don't insult JK's intelligence.

And if you wonder what K-JKKs are thinking:

And being harassed and bullied and bad mouthed for speaking their minds. How familiar...

Oh, and just in case we forgot, during the live JK made sure we'll remember how he refers to Jimin... starting to actually say the actual name and then intentionally changing it up to JM. See for yourselves.

And if you are even interested to know what my 21 yo army non Jikooker daughter's reaction was to the whole Army and J tattoo explanation (you're getting either way)...same daughter that told me the army stood for all members and we argued about it many a times.

You know what she said to me?

"Well, what do you expect him to say? That it's JM? Of course he can't say that".

EXACTLY!!

He can't say it.

So, if I haven't made myself clear by now I'll say it once more with feeling:

The combination of the J and the M on JK's ring finger stands for JM.

Again, I don't think JK is lying. But he's omitting.

The J could definitley be there to not only mean JM but him as well, which would make it even more romantic, if you will. The J and the M, JK and JM marked on his ring finger. If that's not commitment idk what is.

Then Tae joined the fun.

So, JK started the live.

Full untranslated live here (couldn't find a reliable translated one on YT just yet):

JK getting up mid live, to get something?

comes back and still talk for a few minutes, to each other (?) and that's it.

Not much was going on there.

Not gonna say the D (disconnected) word, cause y'all gonna come down my throat.

What was kind of obvious is that no, they no bumping knees. Two mates talking. To each other, next to each other, sometimes the first, sometimes the other.

When you are asking to have a live but then reduced to play with the filters cause the convo, it just ain't flowing, all to end the live after around 10 minutes (I think only around half of that was them talking to each other)...

I'd say reach your own conclusions.

The apartment

Before moving on let's talk a little about the apartment shall we?

We know who is on the lease of Brunnan.

We know it's furnished with some of the dorm's furniture (I'm not 100% sure, but that lounge sure looked like the dorm lounge).

Walls bare.

Clothes rack empty.

What looked like his coat maybe lying on the lounge next to him.

This time he was prepared with a chilled beer glass (after the tea cup wine drinking debacle, lol).

Let's get real here.

Could he be living there? Sure he could. Spending days on end in a bare, cold, lifeless apartment with zero character.

Could he be living elsewhere, let's say somewhere where we aren't even shown anything other than the tv screen? Sure he could. But not on paper. Not officially.

Could two grown men that literally aren't allowed to be in a queer relationship starting the second they enlist need to have official/public known separate addresses, and perhaps there is another place, kept secret, where they can spend most of their time together their privacy guaranteed? Knowing there are still queer couples in SK that live that way, my answer to that will be yes.

Do we know for sure? Heck no. And that, my friends, is the whole idea. We're not supposed to know, as much as our curiosity kills us.

Just a couple of more things and we're done. Phew...

We had this:

JK likes cute

Just in case we weren't aware of it, once again JK confirms that his type is cute. Since forever.

Cute has JK giggling.

Cute has JK drooling.

Another one that deserves it's very own post. So much to do...

Note to self: you asked for Jikook content, don't complain now that you got some.

Sam Smith's Unholy

I'm going to end this long ass post with some JK singing and dancing to Sam Smith's Unholy.

Because how better to end this with a diva JK?

Of course he'll know the choreo.

[manchurian-barnes]

Coffee Shop Blues and Red Part Three (Peter Parker x F! Reader)

Post NWH - Collage Peter!

Busy nights filled with college course work, leads to late nights in a crappy coffee shop, the only perk? Friendly neighbourhood company.

To keep updated heres the Series Masterlist and for my other works, you can find My Masterlist Here!

Peter was pacing around his tiny little apartment, honestly freaking out a little bit. You were unconscious on his bed, and part of him worried you were be terrified to wake up and see your coffee shop acquaintance/super-hero watching you. He’d set out a glass of water and even some aspirin just on the off chance you would need that. He jumped out of his skin as you groaned, starting to come to.

You reached your hands out and let out a sigh as you woke up. Sitting up your head fell into your hands rubbing at your eyes thinking to yourself “That was a crazy dream, peter as spider-man? I need to get more sleep-“  You set up and sort of looked around the small room, the blue bedsheets and the smell of aftershave over you from the pillow. Slowly you moved to the edge of the bed and then stood up. Heart racing as you stood up, moving forwards. You held your hand up ready for to give your evident capture a slap. You heard shuffling. “WHO IS THERE?!” you yelled out as you moved forwards. Peter looked round and caught your arm, “Just me!” He yelped. Holding you up as your legs caved a little. “Easy.” He let out softly.

Your eyes just stayed wide and he watched as you shook your head a bit. “P-Peter, you’re-you’re Spider-Man!” you yelled at him. He nodded just slightly, honestly, he’d hoped you’d of thought it was a dream. He let you go, helping you sit down on a chair. He knelt down, looking up at you and passing you a mug with coffee. Taking a sip in absolute silence. “Y/N-“ “Peter-“ you both blurted out into the silence. “You can go first…” You whispered to him. He brushed his hair back and his eyes sort of just searched his shitty little apartment for a second. “You…you can’t tell anyone.” He let out, hoarsely. This sort of panic rose in your chest, and then, it felt like a weight started to rest on your shoulders. “Does anyone else know?” you spoke after a second, he looked at you, right into your eyes and then shook his head a bit. He just put his hand on your knee, without a thought you rested yours on his. “This isn’t some elaborate scam, right?” Your voice was soft, it had a hint of humour. He felt the corner of his mouth turn up, “You think this shiner is a fake?” he indicated to his left eye, the bruise that bloomed there. You laughed a little and then that laughter was replaced by a tear running down your cheek, which he wiped back with his thumb, “You’re spider-man?” You asked again, “Yes.” He told you yet again. “Y-You saved my mom-“ “When I was fifteen.” He nodded a bit, you knew he didn’t personally remember her, but at least what you’d told him. He smiled at you again, “Anything else you need to know or say about this?” He asked you. Deep in thought for a moment before you said, “You can tell me stuff about being Spidey…when you’re ready to.”

An hour or so later peter was at your side, sans spider-man costume, walking you through the streets towards home. “you didn’t need to walk me home Peter-“ “I wanted to, you know, so next time I make you faint, I know where your place is to take you there.” He chuckled a bit. He looked at you, a double take of your gentle and calm smile. “You’re more okay with this than I assumed you’d be..” He said gently, he put a hand on your arm. Holding it there for a minute, squeezing in a reassuring way. “Im freaking out on the inside if that helps…the cute guy from the coffee shop is a friggin’ avenger-“ You rambled a little bit, his face was red. “What?” “Cute huh?” “Oh-Objectively I suppose-“ “I’ll take objectively-“ “Shut up.” He cackled, head thrown back. You stopped and just looked at him. This boy, who’d come into your life on a random night, who was this fantastical hero and who seemed so…normal, so safe in comparison to everything else in life. Fuck. It’s evident that feelings have been caught now. You shook your head at him and marched ahead with a laugh, murmuring “You know objectively you’re also an asshole.” He threw his head back and laughed again.

He stopped at your door with you, leaning against the wall as you mirrored him. “Am I not getting to come inside?” “Not before a first date.” You joked. He didn’t laugh, he sort of leaned away for a moment. “y/n… I don’t” rejection was going to sting, “It was a joke, jeez lighten up!” He shook his head and reached for your arm again, and he just held on for a moment, “I’d like to, but you know my secret, you know why maybe…just friends is better?” He tried to be kind about it at least, his eyes glazed over for a moment, and he looked away, blinking hard. “I’ve lost people because of who I am so-“ It wasn’t like seeing people cry normally set you off, but seeing peter, friendly, funny and good peter crying, made you move towards him without a second thought, wrapping your arms tightly around him and just holding on. Slowly his arms wrapped around you too, his hug lifted you off the ground and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, “You might be the only person I have…and I just can’t loose my one friend…” He told you gently. You nodded and pushed away from him. “…Pete…Can’t we just try…” “…I…I’m scared.” He admitted.

You placed a hand on his cheek, and he nodded slowly, to him, feeling that soft touch, feeling wanted by someone, and that someone being you… that’s perhaps enough for him to just, try and be brave again…

End of Part Three - Part Four

If you enjoyed the series and are curious to see more of my works you can find them on My Masterlist!

[babes-week]

Entry by Anonymous Willow  For Day Three “Are We Lost!” 

It was hot out, the sun reaching down to smack everyone who dared step outside. Even being in the shade wasn’t enough. Beetlejuice was pretty sure he’d seen a sign post start drooping, and all the heat waves coming up from the asphalt were causing mirages. 

“Are we lost?” Beetlejuice tapped the bench arm, watching Lydia stare at the bus route map. 

“No!” she snapped without looking at him. 

Yeah… they were lost. He could see her anxiety in the way she shifted her feet and clenched her hands in her pockets. “Ya know, I could just… poof us there. Just say the word and we’ll be at your granny’s house!”

She glared over her shoulder at him. He really shouldn’t find that as sexy as he did, but, well… he was a horny s.o.b. and he didn’t mind admitting it. Besides, what man wouldn’t be a little turned on? There she was, wearing shorts and a black tank top, showing off those slim curves and gorgeous skin while hiding all the really interesting bits, glaring at him with big eyes the color dark coffee. 

“You told me,” she said, slowly and carefully, “that you could only go to places you’ve been to, or are so important that they act like beacons.”

“Yeah. That’s how it works,” he agreed. It was kind of creepy how she remembered all the stuff he spouted off. Creepy, but in a good way.

“You’ve never been to my grandma’s house.”

“Nope.”

“So… how would you get us there?”

He drew a blank. Snorting, she turned back around to stare at the map some more. “That’s what I thought.”

“Come on, Babes,” he groaned, slumping down on the bench. “It’s too friggin’ hot! At least let me take us somewhere cooler! Just a quick trip to the arctic, then we’ll be right back!”

“You’re the one who decided to wear a full suit in July, you nutjob,” she said. 

“Got a job you could do with these nuts,” he muttered, shifting in his seat.

“Wanna repeat that louder?”

“Just said good job I’m not dressed like a slut, otherwise, um, people would be trying to pick me up. Ya know, ‘cause we’re on a street corner?” 

She glanced back at him, eyebrow raised, and he squirmed. “Shut up.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it loud enough.” Time for a subject change! “Look, I got an idea. Come sit down.” He patted the spot next to him. 

Lydia considered for a moment, then came over and sat down with a sigh. “I’m only sitting because the next bus doesn’t come for an hour,” she told him.

“Whatever makes you happy, Babes,” he said, conjuring them both a glass of icy lemonade. 

“Oh, I want that,” she groaned, taking the glass and putting it against her forehead. 

He waited until they both had drunk most of their glass before he said, “Now tell me about your granny. You’ve told me stuff and shown me pictures, and I heard her on the phone, but you haven’t told me a lot about her. She’s your mom’s mom, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, voice soft. “Grandma Beth. Elizabeth. Mom named me after her.”

He hadn’t known that. “Tell me about Grandma Beth, more than just superficial stuff.” 

She eyed him sidelong. “Why?”

“Because,” he said, rolling his eyes, “you’re literally bringing me to meet her. You didn’t say that’s what we were doing, but that’s what we’re doing.” He held up his left hand and pointed at his ring finger, which sported a gold band. “Before she dies, I’m betting.”

Lydia’s cheeks turned scarlet with temper, but she didn’t actually refute the claim. He nodded smugly. “So, tell me about Granny Beth.”

She took a deep breath, then started telling him. She told him about how she would spend summers with her grandparents in Illinois, and how it was there she’d learned to love photography, sewing, and things from the past. The farm house didn’t have cable TV and the tiny TV it did have barely worked, so she’d spent all her time outside playing with the neighbors or, more usually, by herself in the nearby woods. But Grandma Beth had always been willing to play with her when she’d asked. So had Grandpa John, before he’d died. When that happened, Emily had wanted Grandma Beth to come live in New York with her, but the old woman had declined. She’d been born in that house, she intended to die there. 

“I spent too long away,” Lydia said, shoulders drooping. “I haven’t gone back since Mama died. I should’ve been there with Grandma Beth.” She wasn’t looking at him, and he knew just by that she was on the verge of tears. Lydia hated crying in front of people, even him. "And now, I try to get there, and I get lost."

“Hey now,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, it’s been awhile, but you’re gonna be there now. We can stay as long as you like. Hell, we can move there, if you want. Anything you want." That last bit was more needy than he'd like to admit.

She laughed a little and leaned into him. “Let’s see how a visit goes first.”

He fished her phone out of her bag and opened her photos, flicking until he got to the ones she'd showed him. There was his girl, except much younger, standing in front of what he thought was the most stereotypical farm house in the world. There were even chickens in the background. Standing with Lydia was an old woman, thin and stringy, but with the same careworn dignity as the house.  She would've been a knockout in her youth, he judged. He also noticed that she and Lydia had the same dark eyes. 

"Tell me about this picture," he said. "Take me back to that day."

She gave him an odd look, but did. "It was just an ordinary day there. July, like it says, so it was hot, but the lighting was really good so we decided to try out the timer on my new phone." Her smile was wry and nostalgic. "We used an old camera tripod."

"What did it smell like?"

"What?!" she laughed, sitting up so she could stare at him.

"You heard me. Pretend you're writing a poem or some shit like that and draw me a picture."

"With scent. You're really mixing your metaphors there, Beej."

He rolled his eyes. "You're drawing with scented markers then. Now get talking."

Still chuckling, she obliged. "Like I said, it was hot, just like today. There were heatwaves over the fields, and it was the humid sort of hot. There's a stream on the other side of the road, so you can hear it from the front of the house. You can hear the sounds of the animals, chickens and goats, and one cow, Maisy. I don't know if she's still alive though." She wrinkled her nose. "You can smell them too. Animal smells and manure. Not great. But the green smell from the fields… that smells amazing. And so does Grandma Beth's cooking. Her whole house smells like baking, and you can smell it from the road if you try."

He nodded, picturing it in his head. Yeah… he thought he could just about grab hold. 

"Oh, there's the bus!" she said, pointing excitedly. "If we take this one, it'll get us back on track, I'm sure this time."

"Got a better idea." He got up and pulled her after him, grabbing her bag. Bag secured, he pulled her against him. "Gimme a kiss."

"What?" she squawked. "Right now?"

"You heard me," he growled, wrapping an arm around her so she couldn't escape. "Come on. Least you could do as recompense for getting us lost."

"Recompense," she drawled. "That's a big word, BJ."

"Oh shut up," he said, then shut her up with a kiss. He waited until she had put her arms around his neck before he teleported them to Grandma Beth's. With the picture Lydia had painted him with words and emotion, he could sense it, a faint little beacon.

When he finally let her come up for air, he was grinning and Lydia had a slightly dazed look on her face. He loved seeing that look on her face, almost as much as he loved the little cat's smile she got after—

"Beej!" 

He snapped out of his brief daydream to see her dazed look had been replaced by shock as she looked around them. Cued in, he looked too, and was more than a little smug to see he'd put them smack on the dirt road in front of Grandma Beth's.

"Beej! Did you—?"

"I'm the ghost with the most, baby!" He puffed his chest out and tucked his thumbs under his suspenders. She squealed, bouncing up up and down, then threw herself at him and kissed him until his head spun.

“Hey you, kids! What are you doing smooching on my road?!” The querulous voice broke them apart, though Beetlejuice was a lot more reluctant to let go than Lydia. She squirmed enough that he finally released her, letting her slide down him and turn to face the old woman standing on the wrap around porch. 

“Grandma Beth! It’s me, Lydia! I called and told you I was coming, remember!”

Grandma Beth’s eyes widened and she hurried (as well as an old woman could hurry), down the steps. Lydia met her there, embracing her grandmother. Beth hugged her back, just as tight. 

Beetlejuice lingered on the road, both to give them privacy and to give himself a moment to calm down. He did not want to greet Lydia’s beloved grandmother with a boner.

Finally, Lydia and Beth separated, both of them wiping their eyes and pretending they weren’t crying.  

Eyes clear, Beth looked over Lydia’s shoulder and those dark eyes narrowed. He couldn’t help but grin. It was uncanny to see Lydia’s suspicious eyes on another woman’s face. Hiking up Lydia’s bag, he ambled up the front walk and stuck his hand out. “BJ Shoggoth. I’m Lydia’s boytoy— I mean, fiance.”

Beth raised her eyebrows, looking him up and down, then took his hand. Her hand was strong and callused, despite the thin skin and bony fingers. “Are you now? I knew our Lydia would choose someone as strange and unusual as her.”

Beetlejuice didn’t think he could grin any wider, but somehow he managed it. “Lady, I’m a thousand times stranger than she is, believe me.”

“Young man, I think I just might. Now, both of you come inside. It’s too hot out.” She looked up and down the road, frowning. “How did you get here? Where is your car?”

“We, uh, we walked the last little way. Hitch hiked,” Beetlejuice said quickly when he saw Lydia floundering for an answer. 

Beth’s wrinkled face wrinkles even more. “Oh my. That’s dangerous.” 

“Not with BJ around,” Lydia said with a smile at him, linking her arm with her grandmother’s and leading her inside. “He keeps me safe.”

“Always,” he promised. Lydia reaches back with her free hand. He takes it in his and follows after her.

[konnorhasapen]

An Assortment of Anecdotes—

Memories | David/Angel

I FINALLY FINISHED IT!

The first part of my Redacted Audio oneshot collection has been completed and is out on ao3! (But you can read it here if you'd like^-^)

As I mentioned a couple times before, Angel is kept gender neutral, but I've used my Tank OC, Kenny (he/him), in place of a gender neutral Tank :) I hope you all enjoy bc this took me so friggin long to finish💀

——

   "I've been meanin' to ask you," Angel began, "where do you go every other Saturday evening?" They asked their mate, watching him throw on his casual shoes and the leather jacket that Asher had gotten him as a gift.

   "I go over to Kenny's place." He replied, a hint of remorse hidden beneath his words.

   "Oo~, can I come with?" David pondered for a few moments before answering:

   "Yeah. Just, try not to touch anything." Granted, there's not much in the house to touch, he thought to himself, but the garage is a different story. After patiently waiting for his Angel to get ready, he grabbed his keys and the couple was out the door.

   "Usually, I'll just walk, but I know you're not a fan of the dark—let alone walking outside in the dark." The Shifter explained, loading himself and his mate into the car and taking a brief drive—not too far from where they live.

   "You know how you're always saying we live out in the sticks?" Angel nods,

   "Mhm. Out in the sticks." They responded, imitating a southern drawl while making a goofy expression that made David chuckle.

   "Well, this is a little more "in the sticks" than we are." After what felt like almost an hour, they pulled up to a house.

   "I'm excited to meet this Kenny guy," the small human gushed eagerly, "he sounds mysterious~"

   "Sorry to break it to you, Angel, but you won't be meeting him." They grew perplexed at the response and cocked their head a little.

   "So, are you house sitting for him then?" They asked, unbuckling themself while they watched David step out of the car and circle around to open their door.

   "I guess it could be seen that way," David shrugged and sighed. "I've been "house sitting" for about a couple years now." The statement caught Angel off guard so suddenly they nearly tripped and got a face full of moistened dirt as they were walking up to the front door.

   "Two years!?" Angel exclaimed, "What the hell happened? Why hasn't he come back?" They asked frantically. David shared a bittersweet half smile as he waited to reply calmly, taking a few minutes to wander slowly around the old, dust-ridden and neglected livingroom, looking over what minimal decor there was scatter unevenly about the area with sympathetic eyes.

   "Something happened a while back," David began, "he had to stick around for a few months before he left. Had no choice, needed to answer questions.., make decisions..." He trailed off, brushing fingers lightly over a spot on the wall that wasn't as discolored as the rest. A photo was missing.

   "Decisions no one should ever have to make.., but life's unfair like that. Some even less fortunate than others." His gaze narrowed at an old ring left abandoned on the small corner table, the scent was distant, nearly faded, but David still knew...

   He still knew.

   "Oh..," Angel receded, thinking for a moment: "I heard Ash, Milo and Amanda talking about some kind of anniversary... Is.., is this what they were talking about?" They queried with innocence, peering up at their mate with unspoken apologies. David nodded:

   "Not here to dig up old shit though," he cleared his throat and regained his tact, stepping a little faster towards the back of the house until a stench flooded his senses and hit his gait like a freight train. Angel soon crinkled their face up in disgust as well:

   "Has there been stuff in the fridge since then or something?" David shook his head again.

   "No. Kenny never kept hardly anything in his fridge. And even when he did, it was never for him." He shook off the smell and took a right instead of going all the way to the back. Entering the new room, he was hit with a type of guilt at the made bed. One that has been made for years.  Longer than he's been gone. Sure enough, as he expected, there was a rat on the floor—dead, given the smell. David took a bag from his pocket, wrapped it around his hand and picked the dead creature up by its tail, walking over to the open window and tossing it outside. Angel pondered at the giant gaping hole in the screen, but their attention was pulled away by something that caught the sunlight and shone from a crack in the closet door. They slid the door open wider with care and caution, seeing a box with a metallic label with the word "photos" written on it messily. While David was preoccupied searching for something out the window Angel gently plucked the box from the shelf with struggle and set it atop the dusty, untouched blanket. They pulled the lid off slowly, recognizing the old, delicate material.

   This looks a lot older than just over a couple years... they thought. They reached inside and pulled out a picture. It was four people sitting in a heap on what looked like an oversized beanbag:

   The guy on the bottom looked to be the biggest, dark skin with his darker, mid-length hair in locks; he had a wide grin on his face and his arms wrapped around the next guy. He had long, dark hair too, but it looked black rather than a deep brown, it looked like it was shaved to fuzz on the side you couldn't quite see at his angle, the rest of it layered and choppy pulled over to the other side. He was smiling too, but his bottom lip was captured playfully between his teeth as his hands were buried in the third guy's hair.

   The third could have been the tallest—maybe the same height as the kid behind him—with an absolute mane of curly bleach blonde hair that Angel could tell was naturally brown by the color sprouting from his roots. His skin was a smooth combination of light caramel and sienna tan with freckles splattered across his face and visible shoulders, sprinkling off somewhere around his forearms.  He seemed to not be one who smiles often, but Angel could feel his joy in his expression and cat-like eyes through the photo.

   The last kid was undoubtedly smiling the most, their two-toned mullet standing out the most amongst the rest of them while they were sprawled out over everyone else as the smallest of the group, a few piercings here and there, and their eyes were looking not at the camera, but at whoever was holding it.  Angel chuckled at the picture, seeing the lot all so happy with each other, and they tried their best to guess which one was Kenny before opting to just ask, seeing as David had made his way behind his mate to peer at the picture as well.

   "Which one of them is Kenny?" They questioned. David didn't need to take time to answer:

   "None of them are." He said.

   "Oh.. Do you know who they are then?"

   "Kenny.., lived his life separately from all of us. Not for complete lack of trying to help him feel included, he just... never really clicked with anyone here. He got close with Milo, finding a little commonality in the fact that both of them are kids of divorce, but that ended pretty quick without any explanation." David sighed.  "The only person who really knew him well enough to say would've been my dad..."

   "Have you talked to him yet?" Gabe asked, peering over to his son, watching in slight amusement at how David's nose crinkled and brows furrowed in frustration.

   "I've gone up to him a couple times. Asher's tried talking to him, but he doesn't say anything." He grumbled. "He just kinda.., glares and shrinks in on himself." Gabe chuckled:

   "He kinda sounds a little like you, don't you think?" He asked the boy, recalling the way he used to be and still is every now and again.  "He's in a new place, kiddo, he's gonna be a little reclusive." The man shrugged, muttering something about the boy's father not making it any easier as he let his gaze wander until it landed on the awkwardly tall, snowcapped Shifter that sat scrunched up under a tree, discreetly watched other kids mess around with one another.

   "We've just gotta help him warm up to everyone," Gabe smiled as he noticed a pair of old headphones set over the kid's ears. "And I think I've got just the right icebreaker..."

   "Why'd he leave all of these here?" Angel asked. "Wouldn't he want to take them with him?" The taller shrugged, peeking into the box again. More pictures of the people in the first one. A couple of them weren't framed: the one on top was again, the same four people in all the others, but they were all in a garage, each with an instrument. The feline-esque teen had a bass in what looked like a deep, deep purple. The teddy bear looking kid was on the drums, the one with long black hair had a keyboard, and the person with the two-toned mullet was wearing a guitar—once again looking at whoever was taking the picture with a bright look on their features. But there was a lone guitar leaned against a shelf of various spare parts, tools and bottles of whatever; a beautiful design in hues of bright blues. Angel flipped the photo over to see names.

   'Cory, Syd, Hale, & Jesse' in that same messy handwriting, but right next to it was a lighter style of script that read: 'AND KENNY!!' Although, the 'Kenny' was scribbled out once or twice in two different spots before it was finally left alone.  The other photo David didn't seem very fond of at all when Angel revealed it. The man in it looked handsome at first glance, wavy, jet black hair that just reached his shoulders, falling wherever in such a natural way that framed his face nicely. But there was something about the way he looked, something in his eyes that just made Angel feel uneasy and stalked in an instant. They looked closer, his eyes were silver—and not just silver because of the camera flash. They were actually silver.

   "Who is that?" The smaller asked, brows furrowed in worry and uncertainty as they pulled the picture away from their face again.

   "Not entirely sure, but I can make a damn good guess." He sneered at the photo, glaring daggers at it even after his mate set it on the bed with the others. Suddenly, Angel was taken aback at the last photo in the box.  All the way at the bottom was a picture in what used to be a flat black frame, the glass was cracked and shattered, and both the pieces of it and the photo itself that was once protected behind it were all decorated with old, dried blood.

   It was as though they could feel the waves of bad memories infecting what used to be so good like a parasite, pouring from the image before them into their own heart. Even the frame was broken. Splintered from some sort of impact—the same one that shattered the glass, no doubt. In the picture where two people: that same person with the mullet and the friendly, bubbly, caring energy in every face they made.., and someone new.

   He was tall—really tall, seeing as he had to hunch down quite a bit to be almost right beside the other. He had thick, fluffy, pure white hair that looked like snow, two different colored eyes; one was a deep shade of brown that almost looked black with a golden ring around the pupil, the other was ice blue with a silver ring. His skin looked fair, but he had a light tan to him. Piercings nearly everywhere, scars, too: the most prominent being a fairly large one that stretched from one side of his face to the other, right over his nose. An unsure furrow in his brows and an awkward half smile, looking at the other—who smiled bright and wide into the lens—rather than the camera. The picture would have been perfect, but instead it was tainted. Smeared with blood from that night.  The pair was silent for a few moments as they continued observing the damage done before Angel spoke up softly:

   "Could we take these with us?" They looked to David, whose face grew uncertain. "I mean, we don't have to take.. that one," they clarified, gesturing to the photo of the vampire; "but, we could take the others? Clean them up for when he comes back!" They smiled, but David was still wary.

   "I don't know, Angel. I don't think he'd be very.., appreciative that we rummaged through his personal stuff." The smaller glanced back down at the picture in their hands. Broken, in more ways than one. They pointed to the new face, half covered by a thin layer of dried blood:

   "Is that him? Kenny?" David nodded slowly, a distant memory weaseling its way into his thoughts...

   "Have a good night, Marie, Milo." Gabe bid, watching the two of them start back home, hearing Milo pipe up and ask his mom if he and Ash could have a sleepover tonight. David only payed slight mind to them though, his eyes trained on Gwen, Kenneth's mother, as she walked in the opposite direction from their house.

   "You alright there, David?" His dad asked, resting a hand on his shoulder. David hummed:

   "I don't know..," he trailed, "Ms. Mackery isn't going home. It's late."

   "I noticed that," Gabe sighed, wondering to himself if she was going to come back this time—as she most often did, but knowing in his gut that this meeting was the last time they'd see her.

   "Kenny wasn't here again." His son grumbled.

   "Are you upset with him?" Asked his father. "Or are you worried?"

   Remembering the night Gwen walked out and never came back. Walking into that house, seeing everything was a wreck.., opening Kenny's bathroom door... David could still hear the snowcapped Shifter screaming at him.

   The next night, he was gone. Only stopped by one more time long after to tell David he was leaving the pack. And that turned into one hell of a mess.

   "Yeah.., that's him," Angel smiled a little at that:

   "I think he'll be okay with it," they sighed in content before carefully returning all the pictures to the box and lifting it in their arms.

   "I'll take this to the car!" They declared with a sparkle in their eyes that David could never get tired of seeing.

   "Okay," he agreed. "Grab the cooler while you're out there and meet me in the garage—all the way in the back. I'll leave the door open." They shared a kiss and went their separate ways.  David left the garage door open, like he said he would, and stalked slowly down the steps as he let his gaze wander. His gold-rimmed chocolate brown eyes landed on the guitar hanging from the wall. The same one from that picture. He thought about how the others—Ash, Milo and Amanda—would rave about managing to sneak themselves into one of their gigs without being recognized, showing videos of them all on makeshift stage out in the middle of the woods. He chuckled a little and went to return to the matter at hand, but he felt something was off.

   That's when he heard Angel call for him.  David rushed through the house and burst out the front door prepared to shift on a moment's notice. But instead of the worst, he was met with a concerned Angel standing a few feet from the car, watching a bobcat peer through and sniff at the backseat car window. The Shifter chuckled:

   "Don't worry about it," he assured, "that's just Simon."

   "That's Simon?" Angel asked, receiving a nod.  "Like, the cute little cat you mentioned Kenny had, this- this is that cat?" David nodded again, but looked confused.

   "She doesn't really like me, the little shit." As though to prove his point, he beckoned the animal over, but all she did was look at him for a few moments like she was saying "can I help you?" in the sassiest way possible for any feline. Simon tsked at David's attempt, but her attention was caught by the human beside him; she looked at them, little nose twitching as she sniffed the air before bounding up to Angel's side, sniffing their shoes, but backed up a little when they giggled quietly. Then the wolf realized why his mate was surprised by the sudden appearance of a literal bobcat.

   "I think you got confused," he said.

   "Hm? What do you mean?" The other queried as they gently reached down to offer the creature the palm of their hand before she took off into the trees.

   "Kenny doesn't own a bobcat. Simon is just a bobcat that got stuck in a bunch of garbage—ever since Kenny helped her out, she's been coming back around here. That's the only reason there would've been any actual food in that fridge." He shook his head like a disappointed older brother thinking about how little Kenny had taken care of himself.  "You're thinking of Wiley. She's an actual house cat. Should be around here somewhere, too. Probably in the garage." He gestured his head for Angel to follow him back inside and they complied.

   "What's that?" Angel asked, quirking their head and looking at the odd shape formed under the large grey canvas tarp that was decorated here and there in oil stains, burn marks and black smears.  David parted his lips to answer, but his mate was quickly distracted by something small and furry brushing up against their leg.

   "You must be Wiley," they gasped, immediately crouching down to give the siamese cat all their love and affection; when Angel scritched at Wiley's neck, his green eyes closed softly and his tail wafted while he purred and leaned into their hands.  David smiled gently and let his eyes linger on the scene for a moment, but soon returned to the task at hand as he carefully pulled the tarp away and folded it up to set it atop all the unorganized chaotic mass of tools on table beside him. Angel stared in awe and asked:

   "Are those his?" David nodded:

   "I know Ash told me he named them, but he doesn't remember which bike was what," Angel laughed a little at that as they stood and walked up next to him with Wiley in tow until he decided to hop up on one of Kenny's bikes. It was the cafe racer that David guessed was the one named 'Betty.' And judging by the accessory hung from the left handle, he'd guess correctly as he spotted the exact name printed on the keychain in an elegant font. The feline stretched and rubbed his face along the handlebars and the dash before he turned around and curled up on the seat with his face tucked beneath his paw.

   "Aww," Angel frowned, "poor little guy misses him." They said.

   "Yeah..," David trailed off. "Not the only one." He muttered quietly, soon feeling his Angel rubbing one of their hands up and down his back in soothing rhythm while they held his own with the other and let their head fall against his shoulder.

   "He'll come home," they assured him. He only hummed and nodded, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of their head and wrapping his arm around them to squeeze them close briefly before guiding them to pull away.

   "Since you're here with me this time, you get to help me clean these things," he explained.

   "You've been taking care of his bikes since he's been gone?" They asked with wide wonderous eyes, cooing when they saw the slightest hint of a blush coat his cheeks.

   "He cares about them. They mean a lot to him, so..." he began to grumble as his words trickled off into grumpy silence.

   "So they mean a lot to you— Davey! That's so sweet!" He picked up two clean rags and tossed one to Angel with a sigh.

   "Knock it off and get cleaning, you little shit." And though he pretended to be annoyed, he felt nothing less than absolute love for his Angel, and peace in their presence. Even in such a dismal place that held myriads of rotten memories, he felt his features relax as he watched them pull out their phone to look up 'how to clean a motorcycle.'

   And for the first time since Kenny left, he actually started to believe he'd come home to them.

[fitgothgirl]

I finallyyyy got a bed for my office! We have an awesome king bed in our master bedroom, but sometimes my bf snores and I go sleep on the couch; that couch is honestly super comfortable, but I love it dearly and don’t want to wear it out with so many extra hours of use. Plus dealing with taking all the upright pillows off it in the middle of the night (and needing to put them back on the next day), not sleeping on sheets, the length isn’t quite long enough, and despite that it seems comfortable to me, I don’t think it’s good for my back.

Also, I have an armchair in my office that’s in the corner where the bed would go, and it’s cute and everything but it’s not very comfortable to sit in, and it’s gotta be like 20 years old by now (it was in my house when I was a kid lol). I could replace it with a better chair but honestly I keep wanting a bed to hang out in... Especially for reading - often I’ll want to be sitting then lying down then sitting again but differently then lying on my stomach, etc., lol.

Also, my bf has allergies and can never sleep with the window open, which is totally understandable. But maybe once in a while during the summer I’ll decide to sleep in my office for an open window night... Fuck I miss those 😭

An extra perk could also be guest usage too of course! My bf has a pull out couch in his office, and like I said our couch is comfy, but a real bed is always ideal. And it’s a twin XL, so even though it has to be a twin, it’s still long (80″, which is the same as a queen, instead of a regular twin’s 75″).

I eventually want a chaise style daybed frame, so it’d have a soft headboard and a soft sidewall, but no footboard or second sidewall, if that makes sense. We have a cushioned headboard for our king bed and I realize I love that. But until I can get a better frame, for now I just got a $60 black metal frame that ended up being super cute!! It has as minimal headboard and footboard, which I wasn’t expecting to be able to get for just a budget metal frame. (Here it is on Amazon)

Anyway sorry for an essay on a friggin bed, I’m excited :3 I love having my own space, 10/10 would recommend in relationships!

[wellhalesbells]

5, 10, 17 & 20 for the ask 😁

5. have you ever made a playlist about something you were writing as an elaborate means to procrastinate when you could have been actually writing and if yes drop a link, son

I sure have not, mainly because if I did it would be, how you say, very short. I tend to listen to... one song, over and over and over and over and over again. It usually lasts me through an entire week, sometimes longer, before I have to switch to something new. If I ever do.

10. at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you?

The latter kind of dictates the former. Sometimes it is so obvious, and it's been obvious since I started, and sometimes I am left sitting there going: I could post this if I could just think of what to friggin' call it. For stories that I have to keep coming back to, it usually happens very organically. I edit. A lot. Coming back to a doc repeatedly and having it be called something truly psychotic and horribly mis-identifying (as it always starts), I'll usually realize what it should be called well before I'm finished. But like with the last fic I posted, I wrote it quickly and I was left with a fic that didn't have a name hours after it was done and I ended up snagging it from an episode of the show I was watching because I dON'T KNOW AND I GIVE UP.

17. what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

Oof. I have no idea. Do people remember specific lines they've written? I really tend to just remember vibes, atmosphere that I've crafted well enough that when I think of that story that's what fills my mind about it or colors that pop when I think of it. I don't know, it's hard to describe, but when I think of it, it has a unique footprint in my brain. Its own shape and feeling and taste associated with it. Oh! But I can tell you that this line about Boyd from AAYbtDoM makes me laugh out loud literally every damn time I read it:

"He was still trying to breathe normally when Scott noticed Boyd sitting down on the grass, legs spread out and pressing the sole of his boot up against a dead hunter’s to see if they had comparable shoe sizes."

Every. Damn. Time. For context: absolutely the most dramatic crap is happening in the foreground, Stiles and Derek nearly just died, Scott's barely holding onto his panic about that, they've just defeated the Monster of the Week but in the background, Boyd is just all chill, sprawled out on this grass with the level of gravitas that a five-year-old would have on it, that same 'I'm gonna tear out grass and rain it down between my outstretched legs, toes of his boots lazily rocking back and forth' energy, looking for new--well, admittedly ~slightly used shoes from people who no longer need their shoes. The juxtaposition kills me.

20. what is your favorite trope to write?

Honestly, whichever character is the stoic, emotionally constipated beefcake in my ships, I'll muss 'im up with some jealousy. Just a 'here are complicated emotions, go forth and conquer.... or stand there in a corner with an eye twitch and insides squirming while telling yourself you don't care about this at all' moment. It is always glorious.

[butterflykiisies]

Eclipse (v)

Sunny x Reader x (slowburn) Moon

Part 5/10

• part six

word count : 2115

CW/TW : fear, implications of pain, slight possessiveness.

A/N : I hope you’re all having a lovely day! if any of you need to talk at all feel free to send me a message or an ask!

taglist : @fatherfigurefreddy @delta-and-dark @mootiza @yonaka-hells-bitch @casisgrass @lvlyjad3 @roses-and-lightnings @scitzomuffin @zippiio @eepu @tenebrous-one @nullnvoyd @lame-name0 @necromantiste @crazyclownchick @justyournormalsimp @kebabra @fruiitstand @mreggmanowo @justaboredwriterlol @coffeeandcreativityblog @ohworm-writes @raideyobrodcast @ck-tvn @brooke233 @doiir @mayonesa-otaku-uwu @deadlybean2019 @artsimatsu @tired-turbulance @beetea38 @bluebat232 @magicalbuhdussy @alexisbunnie @whiskehorange @cicada-teeth @gogol-nikolai @simp346 @ghostiinox @luckyyhihi @ilumination @cry1ngchild @kaiismissing @hebesbrutus @toadsquirt3-99 @mono-the-enby @gay-frog-friggin-frog @sourbunniemilkie @nightmare-animations28 @eclipsia-imagines @babiniczbitch @honey-ydoiexisit

The day inched by, seconds feeling like hours as you made your way through your duties. You couldn’t seem to get into the feel of things today, not since the encounter from this morning. Moon’s demands had left something within you, something that demanded attention as it resonated through your core.

You tried for hours to get him from your thoughts, yet nothing seemed to work. His voice echoed through your thoughts, the sensation of his touch lingering on your skin, the absence of his presence sending a pang of longing through your soul. You were completely distracted.

“Miss (L/n)?” A small voice pulled you from your thoughts, your eyes meeting a child who couldn’t be more than five.

You smiled softly, bending down to their level. “Hi sweetness, can I help you with something?” You intentionally softened your tone, making yourself more approachable.

The child, who had a little wristband- which read ‘Lilac’, wrung her hands anxiously. “Can I talk to Mr.Sun? I can’t find him and I really reaaaaaally need to talk to him.” Her green eyes looked up at you expectantly, waiting for your response.

You nodded dutifully, internally wondering what could she possibly need him for so urgently. “Of course you can. Wait right here and I’ll go find him for you, okay?” You, yourself, had been wondering where Sunny was. Seeing Moon this morning was the first and last time you had seen them today, which was very unusual.

Lilac smiled, nodding. “Yes ma’am!” She said, sitting down directly onto the floor- not wanting to move a muscle until Mr.Sun was found.

You stood up to your full height, scanning the room for any sign of the jolly animatronic. To your surprise, you couldn’t even hear the light jingling from his costume. Kids were placed oddly around the room, some playing in the jungle gym, some throwing around a ball. All without the supervision of Sunny. Most days, sunny would rather die than go without seeing the children. It just delighted him to play, sing, even dance around with them. Of course, you knew it was due to his programming but you couldn’t help but think there was something more behind it.

After a couple laps around the daycare, you were officially stumped. He was just.. gone. The last place you thought to check was the security office beside their balcony. You checked around you, to make sure a kid wouldn’t be able to slip into the door as you did- and once the coast was clear you scanned your security card and quietly made your way into the hallway.

The hallway connected to a stairwell that headed up to the office and down into the animatronic tunnels- the ones they use to get around without being seen by party goers. You slid the card back into your pocket, and started up the stairs- taking them two at a time to waste less time. You didn’t want Lilac to have to wait so long. “Sunny?” You called, rounding the corner once making it to the platform.

Silence followed.

Your brows furrowed, “Sunny, a little girl named Lilac needs to talk to you.” You approached the security desk, which was littered with Fizzfaz cans and wrappers from candy bars. A small note was taped to the computer monitor.

‘Daycare attendant out for repairs.’

The handwriting was unfamiliar, it was a messy scrawl- almost illegible. Repairmen came and went around here- but all went through you. So far, you haven't had any repair requests. That was more than unusual.

You folded the note and tucked it into your pocket before leaving the office. You had every intention to leave, to go off and search the nearest repair center- but the flutter of the balcony’s curtain caught your attention. You’d never actually been up here, it just always felt like Sunny and Moon’s private place. Just a look couldn’t hurt, right?

The curtains were double sided, one side was a golden hue that sparkled as it moved- and on the other was a deep velvety blue with embroidered silver stars. It was breathtaking, you had never noticed how much thought was put into it. “Wow.” You whispered, reaching your hand out to gingerly stroke the fabric.

From here you could hear the children laughing, the sound brought a smile to your face and as you pulled the curtains back- you gasped. The balcony was written on, all in the same messy scrawl as the note you had found. It was long, detailed paragraphs of ramblings about someone- who’s name you couldn’t quite make out.

You bent down, knees hitting the platform with a soft thunk. It was mostly in the same handwriting but in some places it was darker and more defined. You found a line near the bottom, one that could be read in completion. “Stop, stop, stop. She’s not for you. Not for you. You. You.” You read aloud, running your hand over the line- it was deep. Almost like it was carved instead of written.

The midday announcement sounded off, signaling nap-time.

A sigh left your lips and you stood back up, heading back to the stairs. Slowly, you began your descent. Once you reached the door, you hesitated. This was so unusual. An uneasy feeling crept into your chest, but you knew that now was not the time- you had a job to do.

You forced a smile, exiting the door and making your way into the daycare as children scurried about setting out their sleeping bags. “Alright, Kids!” You shouted, gaining their attention. “Line up at the front desk to receive your moondrop!” Your eyes scanned the spot Lilac had sat in less than fifteen minutes ago- but she wasn’t there, you shook it off as her diverting her attention elsewhere and forgetting about Sunny.

Excited gasps left their mouths, all they knew- was that it was candy. Only their parents and Fazbear Entertainment knew that it was a light sedative. To their defense, the candy did taste good.

You took the basket from the front desk and let them take one. One at a time they indulged in their naptime candy before going and tucking into their sleeping bags for the next hour. “Sleep well, kiddos!” You hummed, honestly- it felt wrong to practically drug the kids to get them to nap, but their parents signed the disclosure waiver. Some even encouraged the use.

As they all drifted off, you settled in at the desk- sifting through emails to attempt to see reasoning behind their odd disappearance.

<•>

Sunny wasn’t used to being out of the daycare, he wasn’t quite sure how he got here in the first place- but he had spent more than half the day attempting to find his way back. Most of the animatronics were comfortable in these tunnels but Sunny wasn’t the wandering type. He was happy within his little slice of heaven. So tracking through more than two miles of tunnel wasn’t ideal. Somehow, he hadn’t run into anyone. Which made no sense.

There was a soft knocking coming from the extended dark hall, it seemed to be at a decline.

“Hello, hello!” Sunny shouted, his steps becoming faster as his hopes skyrocketed. He just hoped that it was someone with an idea of how to get back to the daycare.

The sound stopped and a deep scraping sound began to echo as it got closer and closer. A light flickered above a figure about twenty feet away, and as Sunny squinted- he could make out the wiring of an endoskeleton.

A deep mechanical whirr broke the scraping, before the sound of heavy footfalls began to pick up.

Whoever, whatever was running- and fast.

Sunny couldn’t understand, he knew all of the animatronics in the pizzaplex. He was even friends with a few of the security bots that made rounds in front of the daycare. This wasn’t like any of them. This was aggressive. Almost.. violent.

Before he could stop himself, he was already turning back and sprinting down the hall away from whatever the hell that thing was. He squeezed his eyes shut, running full force now down the unfamiliar halls- and after about ten minutes, he stopped. There was no sign of the thing that was chasing him, it was dead silent.

“Moon, help. Please, please. I don’t ask for anything. Just get me out of here!” He cried, sitting on the rough stone floor. It was unfinished, grainy, and covered in soot- like it had been through a fire. He felt that if he was capable of crying- he would be wracked with sobs. He was scared and in such a dark, scary place all alone.

Moon was already bored of toying with his counterpart, more so- if anything, he was more intrigued by Sun’s discovery. A rogue endo skeleton wandering the security tunnels- that doesn’t happen every day. Though he wanted to stay and investigate the occurrence, but he knew that the longer they stayed away- the more they risked being declared unstable and sent to parts and services to be decommissioned.

The effects began, Sunny felt as if he was being forced away- and instead of fighting, he gave in. He needed Moon's help, he wasn’t about to change his mind just because Moon needed to take charge of the vessel. He raised his hands to his faceplate, ripping the sun emblem off.

Moon groaned as he stood, soot covered his pants and made him feel- unclean. “Dirty, dirty.” He mumbled, shuffling as he moved to the closest security door. The animatronic had a built-in security chip- so just by his presence, the door slid open.

Inside was a stairwell, usually used by janitorial services. Little did Sunny know, he had been roaming the same hall for hours, taking right turns and pretty much- staying in a circle. The exit had been right in front of him- which delighted Moon to watch. He found it comical. An elevator would be two flights up, and from there the daycare was an elevator ride away.

He made his way to the elevator, clicking the button before relinquishing control of the vessel. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.” He grumbled.

Sunny got the reins back, more than surprised at his counterpart. It wasn’t like him to just- give in. Eventually, he put two and two together. Moon was unable to exist within the light of the elevator, it harmed him. That made more sense. “Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled, perking up when the elevator dinged.

He climbed inside, breathing a sigh of relief as he pressed the third floor button. Finally, he could be back where he belonged. He could see you, god- the way he missed you. His manic roaming left him mindless, his thoughts continuously going back to you. He wanted to hear your voice, the melodic sound of you saying his name. He was sure that’s what he missed most. Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed the elevator arriving in the service tunnel right outside the daycare. The doors opening snapped him out.

With an eager bound, he made out of the elevator and through the security door. He was left in a room full of tuckered out children, barely bothered by his arrival.

Your head jerked around at the sound, face lighting up at the sight of your companion. “Sunny!” You whisper-shouted. You jumped from your seat, moving quickly across the room to meet him in the middle.

He was already a few steps ahead of you, his arms outstretched. If he had a heart, he could’ve swore it would’ve exploded the moment you crashed into his arms- wrapping your own around him and squeezing him tight. “God, Sunny. Don’t scare me like that. I thought someone robot-napped you.” You chuckled, voice muffled.

His grin widened, hand moving to stroke your hair gently. “Not exactly, but kinda close to it. Thanks to Moon.” He couldn’t even find it within him to be upset with moon for what happened. All he could think, and feel was you. You were here. In his arms.

The realization dawned on you a moment later, and as best you could- you attempted to step away from him. Moon warned you, and it was about time you discussed everything with Sunny. No more avoiding the subject, no more lying. You had to admit to him what you felt. It was inadmissible.

You had feelings for Moon- conflicting feelings, but feelings nonetheless. You also had feelings for Sunny, which hadn’t been a secret. You both knew- but now with Moon thrown in the mix, things seemed needlessly complicated.

“We need to talk.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

Death By Bagel

NCT Culinary Student!Mark Lee x Fashion Design Student!Reader Summary: Mark makes a cake cause he's realized he can't lose you to some f-boy. Word Count: 3k+ Warnings: Fluff, childhood au, college au, slowish burn, slight cursing, reallllly fluffy, some broksi-dude action, typos sksksksks, etc.

R E Q U E S T my friend: mark lee, slow burn, friends to lovers

A/N: I wrote a fic that already had like 1k+ word then I LOST IT (i think i deleted it) thus this. It took me 10 years to write this msmsmkskskks. PLEASE TUMBLR IS MESSING WITH ME AND MIXED UP THE ORDER OF SOME OF THE DIALOGUE

“As a doctor, I don’t think you should be doing that,” Mark says, not even bothering to look at his patient seated rudely on the floor. Oop, he’s lying down now.

Mark huffs and looks up from the clay block he was molding on his tray, “YOU’RE SO UNPROFESSIONAL!”

Mark’s mother nearly spits out her coffee upon hearing the words of his five-year-old son. Her husband snorts, “He got that from you.”

The woman throws a look at the man and was supposed to give a snarky retort, up until the sound of the doorbell ringing. She grins from ear-to-ear and dashes to get the door.

When she comes back to the living room, she’s accompanies by another woman and a tiny version of her.

“Markie! Say hello to your Auntie!” Mark’s mom calls.

Mark from the carpeted floor looks up and blinks, examining the stranger-woman and its human-ling. Mark turns to his father who was sat on the couch and receives a nod of approval almost. Mark purses his lips and waves at the woman.

The woman waves back and then crouches down to the little girl, “Baby, say hello to Mark.”

Unwilling, she shakes her head.

“Aw come on, baby. Don’t be shy. Mark over there is a really sweet boy. I knew him when he was in his mommy’s tummy, just like Mark’s mom knew you when you were in mine. You’re the same age so you’ll get along just fine.”

With the unnecessary explanation that gave no justification to the scene whatsoever out of the way, the girl was fooled into peeping up, “Hi, Mark.”

“Hello,” Mark says, not particularly interested, as his patient was still in the midst of dying in his office. He turned to his stuffed toy called Mr. Lion and attempted to stand him up once more.

At this point, the girl makes her way to Mark.

“We’ll be back in two hours, honey. Keep an eye on the children,” Mrs. Lee tells his husband who had been occupied with TV the entire time.

“Yeah. I got this,” he smiles to his wife then goes back to watching.

The bumble bee clad figure sat down to Mark in blue and watched him play.

Mark ignored her for a few seconds, needing to assert all efforts on standing that dumb toy up. Once successful, Mark turns to her, “Do you play doctors?”

Mark was then met with the same lack on enthusiasm. She hums,��“I like playing baker doctor.”

All at once, Mark gasps, “ME TOO!”

It was unbeknownst to the children it was oddly specific and the chance of this happening was pretty slim.

And in a blink of an eye, excited giggles erupt in the room, as if they had been having so much fun before this scene. It was here and there the two would become best friends to the very end.

... so I guess it means the reckoning is upon us.

“MARK LEE I SWEAR TO THE FU--” “WHAT! WHAT!?” Mark laughs.

"YOU ATE MY BAGEL! AGAIN!" I growl in a loud whisper, throwing the wrapper at him and his flat head before he could think to dodge it while he annoyingly laughs.

"I asked if I could have it though!" he says, fully knowing his sins.

I glared at him and say lowly, "I thought you were referring to my notes, bread for brains."

Mark snorts loud enough for our teacher to wake up from his nap. Once the class notices, we all pretend to be doing something productive and Mark plays it off with a cough.

"Mr. Lee." Mr. Kim says sternly, clicking his tongue, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Mark finishes coughing and turns to our seated professor, "Yes sir."

"Don't go to school if you're sick and going to cause a racket with your coughing."

Mark nods firmly and Mr. Kim closes his eyes again, mumbling, "page 65 is due tomorrow."

The entire class grumbles. Mark beside me scoffs and makes a face, "Yeah, yeah, Doyoung."

I turn to him and elbow his side.

"Whatever," Mark shakes his head, "professor bunny-teeth won't hear me."

Once class ended, we both get our things and head out for lunch. We walk to our canteen, fussing over assignments, deciding we should do it together later in our mutually free period.

I groan and narow your eyes at him as we have an argument over how he hasn't finished the essay for English, "That's not the point."

"Yo Mark!" a voice calls from afar. Mark and I turn, looking for the voice, and I spot the dimpled senior, Jung Jaehyun, in a table with the rest of his squad.

I nudge Mark and point at the pale guy seated by the corner.

Mark throws him a smile and waves. I follow closely behind him as he walks over to the table. "We're going to sit with them?" I say in some sort of gasp.

"Yeah." Mark replies simply, not bothering to turn to me, "they're cool."

I knit my brows at that and nod, "Yeah I know. But I'm not cute today."

Mark stops in his tracks and throws me a confused look, "what?"

"I didn't put any make-up on today, also I'm pretty sure there's a visible stain somewhere on my jacket, I just don't remember where."

Mark scrunches his face up again, even more confused. "What? How do you... forget a stai-- that's not the point. Why do you wanna look cute today?" He scoffs and continues lowly, "hardly as if you ever look cute."

I let out an annoyed groan and punch Mark's shoulder. "Like when you panicked when Seulgi came over and asked for notes."

Mark openes his mouth, "That is so not the same! Jaehyun's a fuck bo-"

"Just shut up already," I snap and shove him forward so he'd continue walking. "Let's not keep him waiting," I add and mumble, "also I know. Dong Sicheng however is very cute."

Mark chuckles, "he's dated every girl on the dance team."

"Okay, maybe not that cute."

"Ya, Mark," Jaehyun grins and greets the said person with a high-five and chest bump. He turns to me and speaks my name with a smile. I smile back politely and wave.

I'm about to sit next to Sicheng, but Mark shoves me and so I end up sitting on the other side of the bench table with Jaehyun. I turn to Jaehyun with a small, non-awkward smile and shoot Mark a glare. He seems unbothered though.

"So, you up for a round later?" Jaehyun asks Mark.

Mark talks over me, "you know it, dude."

Jaehyun flashes his dimple smile all the stupid girls fall for. I'm only half falling for it cause I'm only half stupid. He raises his brows, "you bought the dough, right?"

This makes me knit my brows.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I really did this time," Mark mumbles quickly. "It's my turn anyway."

Jaehyun gives an off look, "that's literally what you said last time bro."

"Yo, no for real. It's in my bag, if you wanna check."

Jaehyun shakes his head when Mark begins to scramble for it, "no, Lee, it's good. We wouldn't want you friend to get dirty."

Is it just me or do you feel slimey all of a sudden?

Jaehyun then gives me a somewhat, somehow sincere smile, "so. I hear you're in fashion design."

I give a soft chuckle, "yeah. That's me."

"I could tell from a mile away. Mark looks horrible next to your getup."

I look down at my sweater and ripped jeans. Mark exclaims in protest, "shut the hell up, Jae."

I give a soft smile at Jaehyun, "don't know where that comes from but thanks I guess."

Jaehyun chuckles, "I'm kidding," he eyes Mark, "I saw your Fashion Design pin on your bag when you sat down."

"Oooohhhh, haha, okay, that makes sense."

"Ya, Jeff," Sicheng calls for Jaehyun, "it's almost time."

Jaehyun turns to his friend and nods. He turns back to me and Mark, "well, it's nice to meet you. Mark won't put a sock in it even if I beg. See you around, fashionista."

He stands and slaps Mark's back, "see ya later, broski."

"Yeah, bruh," Mark replies.

Once it's just Mark and I, I snap at him and blurt out in a whisper yell, "YOU'RE ON BROSKI LEVEL WITH JUNG JAEHYUN?!"

Mark gives me a weird face, "bruh, I think he calls the principal broski, for real."

I smack Mark, making him whine, "you know what I'm talking about, Mark! And what, are you doing drugs?!?"

He shakes his head in confusion, "Wait, what!? Who the hell told you that?"

"Uhhhhh you were talking about dough and showing up later. Sounds like you owe him money for drugs, Mark."

"??? In what universe did we even mention drugs?? Does this," he slaps his face, "look like a face of a drug addict to you?"

"A gullible idiot maybe."

Mark's jaw drops, "oh wow, okay. I'm done with this conversation." He proceeds to stand attempt to walk away. I scoff, "not on my watch bitch."

Like the true idiot that he is, Mark begins to legit run away from me, like a criminal who stole my cookies. It's embarrassing that he, a man much taller than I, could not even outrun me. I suppose I should be grateful, but this just fortifies my thoughts of him being an idiot even more.

But okay... I wasn't actually expecting this... like... Mark and Jaehyun... like... actually baking bread after school with dough Mark premade at home. Also, uh, Jaehyun looks super cute in an apron that I'm having a mental breakdown. And what's new, so does Mark.

"I can't believe you thought I was a drug dealer," Jaehyun says in a soft pout as he rolls out dough on the marble counter of his friggin large kitchen in his friggin large house. Like dang, I knew he was rich, but he's like Rich™ Rich. Rich with a golden diamond encrusted Rolex watch rich that's in a glass display rich-- wtf.

Mark wheezes in his telltale high pitched laugh as he opens a pack of unsweetened chocolate pellets, "she thought dough was some sort of metaphor or something."

"Cute," they say at the same time. Mark turns to Jaehyun in slight surprise and Jaehyun turns to me. I roll my eyes, though I feel my neck burn. I avert my attention to the scene I was sketching on my pad, Jaehyun and Mark baking croissants. I clear my throat, "I'm just making use of the single braincell between us, cause if he doesn't die falling down the stairs, he's gonna pull some idiotic stuff like baking with Jung Jaehyun."

Oddly, it's Mark that reacts to that with a, "hey!"

Jaehyun rubs his chin on his shoulder, "I also can't believe you think so little of me.'

I break a sweat but decide to answer honestly, "... ... ... You have a reputation."

"Of being a fuck boy?"

Mark loudly transfers the chocolates into a metal bowl, making the two of us snap at him. Mark makes a face, "oh gosh, sorry."

Jaehyun sighs, "well. I admit I get around, but that's only because I get dumped every time."

I raise a brow.

Jaehyun purses his lips, "nah, let's not make this weird. The croissants will be flat."

"Dude," Mark turns to him, "that's literally only because you messed up the recipe."

Jaehyun grits his teeth, "no. It's because Kun's a little teacher's pet and sabotaged me so he could get the best grade."

"No, but like Kun is really nice, he helped me with the fold techinique."

Jaehyun scoffs, "He stole me vanilla extract, Mark. Who does that?!"

"No, listen, he's cool, like, for real--"

"No, you listen, he's a little shit and--"

The two begin to bicker like a married couple, and I begin to draw inspiration form the scene to design some random sketches of wedding dresses.

I look back to the two and still can't get over the fact that I learned Jaehyun was a culinary arts major with my best friend, and that I was currently in the Jung's boojie home because I thought Mark was buying drugs from him. Not what I was expecting at all my day to go like, but I'm not mad this is how it went.

"No, no, no, no," Jaehyun says. He turns to me and points, "let's just get an outside opinion. Babe, what's your favorite color?"

"BABE?!" Mark barks.

I take a moment to reply. I blink slowly, "uhh... pink?"

Jaehyun bites his lower lip and claps his flour covered hands, "Right. Pink croissants it is."

Mark shoots him a glare and turns to me, back to Jaehyun, "she has a name."

Jaehyun nods, "yeah, and she wants pink croissants."

Mark makes a face and Jaehyun examines it, chuckling under his breath. "Wah, you two are something, huh."

No one really responds.

We began to always eat lunch with Jaehyun and his friends. It's funny cause I realized Jaehyun, although I still firmly believed he was out to get nasty with every other girl he sees, he was actually just like Mark. A total loser with a love for cooking.

"Hey," Mark says with a snippy tone.

I give him a look and suddenly receive a paper bag to my face. Mark sits on his chair next to me, as per usual. I smell the thing before I realize what it is. It's a freshly baked bagel. I perk up and smile, "Aw, you baked me a bagel?"

Mark raises his upper lip, "no. Jaehyun did."

I knit my brows, "what? Why?"

Mark narrows his brows, "do you, like, like him?"

I give him a look. I take a bite of the bagel, making Mark look at me in disbelief. I answer, "You do know I only hang with him cause you do, right?"

"Then why'd you eat the bagel then?"

"Uh, a number of reasons. 1) it's a bagel, 2) free food, 3) I'm starving, 4) it smells amazingggg."

Mark does a face, "fair. I've been meaning to ask how he does his seasoning for a while now too." He releases a breath, "and anyway, I'm pretty sure he made a bagel cause I told him you liked them. Never talking about you to him anymore though."

I look at him, "why do you talk about me so much to him anyway?"

"Uh because you're amazing," Mark says instinctively.

I feel my heart skip at that. I coo and place my hands on my chest, "wait that's really sweet."

Mark looks at me. His face begin to shift, "too bad it's a lie- haha."

I give him a look and rebut, "jerk."

"Loser."

As quickly as I found out about Jaehyun being Mark's friend, that's about as quickly as I found out he didn't like hanging out with him anymore. It's kind of a shame I never got to go back to his boojie house.

There was this one encounter I had with Jaehyun though... which was a little weird, not gonna lie.

He was waiting for me outside my Tailoring class, smiling and waving when he saw me. I Reluctantly reciprocated and walked over to him.

He releases a breath, "I've been waiting for about 20 minutes for you. I didn't know when your class would end."

I raise my brows, "you could have asked?"

"Well I would need your number for that, and that would have ruined the surprise," he pulled out a brown paper bag, reminiscing the same one Mark chucked at my face.

"I made you two this time," he smiles.

I take a moment to reply, "you don't have to make me bagels, Jaehyun."

He grabs my hand, "yeah, but I want something out of ya," he places the bagels in my hand. He proceeds to lead us off and we begin to walk down the hall.

Truth be told, it's a little scary that his ulterior motive is up in the air. Jaehyun places his hands in his pockets, "I like your dress, by the way."

I smile, "thanks. I made it."

He smiles and nods, "right. That makes sense as to why it suits you well."

I can't help but blush at that, and simultaneously feel conscious when I realize a bunch of girls in my course are looking at me and Jaehyun as we strut down the hall.

"So, what did you want, Jaehyun?"

"Well, I clearly wanted to ask you out."

"..."

"..."

Jaehyun smiles and give a soft laugh, "is it so ground breaking?"

"... Uh..."

He sniggers, "hey, you can say no. I mean I hope you don't but you can." Jaehyun leans in and raises his hands, "I won't like it, but a man should take rejection from a lady well."

I turn to him as he straightens up. I turn to the bagels he made me and bring it back to him. He laughs, "no, I made them for you really. It's not poisoned, in fact it's made with love."

I visibly react to that, which makes Jaehyun wheeze. I can't help but laugh back, "that was hella tacky."

"Worth a shot though," he says. "Good luck with Mark."

I look at him with silence and he chuckles, "ya, you can't fool me."

I'm about to retort but then Jaehyun gets called by one of the frats dudes I identify as Johnny Seo. Jaehyun does a curtsy and clicks his tongue, "see ya later babez."

"You know, I would have said yes if you didn't do stuff like that."

Jaehyun purses his lips, "no you wouldn't."

I shrug, "worth a shot though."

Jaehyun places a hand on his chest, dramatically calling, "Uh, rejection hurts, man."

Yeah, I never went to Jaehyun's boojie house ever again.

Silver lining though was Mark's dorm smelled equally as nice because of all the food he cooks, although it came with a whiff of axe body spray from his roommate, Lucas. It's cool though, he was almost never around for me to smell it in its whole intensity.

"Aite," Mark calls from his side of the dorm. I perk up from the two seater dining table they had and turn to Mark who was covering the cake he was making for his finals.

"Don't, like, peek, okay. I want you to see the cake all at once and give me your honest reaction to it. Please, like, all my lives kinda depend on it."

"How many lives do you have?"

"9, I'm pretty sure."

I stand from my seat, "not you faking your life as a cat, but get it I guess."

Mark raises a hand at me as I walk over, "can you not, I'm high-key panicking right now."

"Over what? You literally made a box of donuts for your midterms and it looked better than Misty Mreme! I'm sure your cake is hot."

"It was in the minifridge for a day. I mean it barely fit cause of all of Lucas' mountain dew."

I groan, "just show me it, Mark Lee!"

Mark whined and dashes over to me, grabbing my shoulders, "okay, but like, don't be mean about it. I swear, I might cry."

I give a sound and fake cough, "it's ugly."

Mark doesn't respond to that particular jab, "I'm serioussss. Please be kind, okay?"

I look at Mark's nervous face and give a soft pout, "Markie, please, not that I think it would be ugly, but I promise you don't have to be nervous about my reaction."

He isn't soothed by that, but he does release a sigh, "okay. So for context, Mr. Moon wanted the cake to be one or two tiers, but I went with one, cause there aint no way I'm going to the other side of the campus to freeze a two tiered cake. Then, the theme was something from your childhood, so, I, uh, thought this was fitting. The exam is 60 percent decoration, 40 percent taste by the way."

Mark gives me a hesitant look, but steps way for me to see it. I then see a heart shaped, medium sized cake in my favorite pastel pink color. By the top there's a little boy on the floor playing with a toy oven set and little girl in a bumble bee dress, holding a stethoscope. At the bottom of the cake, there were jelly letters spelling out, "I like you."

I cup my cheeks at the sight of it and feel my eyes start to well at the sentiment.

Wait... was this really happening?

Mark heaves in and out, "okay, so like when Jaehyun began to like hit on you, that sucked pretty hard because he's known for getting girls and I thought maybe he'd get you too and I got panicky. Anyway, I....... have liked you since we were kids... And... I know you probably don't feel the same way but I have to try, you know.... Yolo."

My feel my tears retract from what I hear. I rub my eyes. I turn to Mark and find his nervous face. "Did you just say yolo in your confession, Mark?"

He looks like he's about to throw up.

I can't help but chuckle and pout, "dude..."

I prolong the moment. Mark gets even more nervous as he repeats softly, "dude..."

"We could have dated in grade school all this time."

It takes a moment to register in his head.

Like, a really long moment.

I sigh, "Mark! I like you too, dummy."

He freezes and blinks. His face begins to burn. He breaks into a soft smile, "nice."

I break into a laugh.

"... Uh... So... Can I like... Kiss you?"

I snort and feel my own cheeks begin to burn, "I think you should refrigerate your cake first."

Mark snaps out of this trance, "oh shoot, you-" I give him a quick peck on the lips.

He is dumbfounded.

I feel butterflies go wild in my stomach.

"I'll wait over there for when you've fixed that."

Mark watches as I walk away, "yooo.... That's not fair though."

[impalas-r-important]

Branch Out - Chapter 2

Summary: Y/N left everything she's ever known, and Dean just wants to be left alone. With both of them trying to heal from heartache, they might just end up finding what they need in the last place they'd ever look.

Word Count: 6550

Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually, maybe?)

Warnings: I don't think there are any for this chapter, but if you think i should add one, feel free to let me know!

Read Chapter 1

Branch Out Masterlist

My Masterlist

Saturday was a welcome break from work, but there was no sleeping in. A delivery truck brought your bed frame, a small kitchen table, and a coffee table early in the morning and you were over the moon about not having to sleep on the cold floor anymore. You figured the tables would be fairly easy to put together, so you left those for last. You emptied the box with the bedframe and did your best to carefully lay out all the pieces so they would be easy to find as you went along. Before you started, you grabbed your radio and shuffled through your CDs, deciding on The Eagles to be today’s soundtrack.

You threw half of your hair up in a bun to pull the small pieces from your face, rolled up your sleeves, and looked around for the instructions. You couldn’t actually remember seeing any kind of paper as you unpacked the pieces, so you dumped out the box. Nothing. You looked under every piece of wood, and in every corner of your tiny house, but came up empty handed.

“Fan-friggin-tastic…” You grumbled and stared down the lumber and hardware, trying to make sense of this now seemingly impossible puzzle.

Hours had passed, and you had only managed to put together a pathetic amount of the bedframe. The stupid bits and pieces that were strewn across the floor taunted you with every wrong part you picked up. Before any vital pieces ended up getting thrown into the fireplace out of frustration, you decided it would be best to take a break and make some lunch. You needed to make a run to the grocery store and stock your fridge and shelves, but you’d need to wait until you got your truck back, so you kept your fingers were crossed that Bobby would be able to get to it today.

You settled on a protein shake and a banana for your meal and were sitting on the kitchen counter when two quick knocks at the door interrupted your thoughts. You turned the music down a notch and wove your way through the maze of wood that had taken over your living room. You were expecting to see Sarah standing on the other side of your front door but were surprised to find Dean. One hand was slipped into his coat pocket and his shoulders were slightly rounded, showing that he didn’t really want to be here right now.

“Oh,” you did your best to not sound massively surprised but did a bang-up job, “hi.”

“Hey,” he cleared his throat, and a tuft of breath flew from his mouth in the cold air, “I just wanted to say sorry for being kind of a dick last night. I’m not really a people person and I’m definitely not used to having neighbors.” His eyes, which were glued to the ground made their way up to meet yours. “The bars were good though. I ate them all last night. I figured you’d want this back.” He extended his arm holding the plate you had placed the treats on to take over to him.

You tried your hardest to stop the smug smirk that was pulling at the corners of your mouth. “That’s actually a disposable plate.”

“Oh,” he looked down at it, “it’s one of the fancy plastic ones though, so I wasn’t sure if you wanted it back or not…” It was definitely not fancy, but the thought of him scrubbing the sticky blueberry mess off of a cheap plate was completely endearing.

“Well, good as new then.” You smiled and took the plate back from him, making a mental note to only give him paper plates from here on out if the situation arose. You stepped just inside the door and tossed the plastic onto the kitchen counter.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he snuck a peek at the mess that was you house at the moment. “Whoa, did a bomb go off in here?”

You looked around with a sigh. “No, but I’m about ready to blow the whole place up and just start over.” Stepping out of the way, you signaled for Dean to come in out of the freezing cold. He stomped his boots off on the front porch and stepped inside. “I didn’t bring any furniture with me when I moved, so I ordered some online. This mess,” you motioned vaguely around the room, “is supposed to be a bedframe but some genius forgot to put the instructions in the box.”

“How long have you been at it?” Dean stepped closer to the junk yard that had become your living room.

You really didn’t want to answer that question because you figured he’d just tell you what you were doing wrong. “Not that long.” Lying had never been something you were good at. Dean took one look at the guilty look on your face and saw right through it.

“So, all morning?”

“All morning.” You admitted and crossed your arms in shame. For a short second, you could have sworn that you saw a hint of a smile on Dean’s face. He was probably laughing at your miserable handy work.

“Well, for starters, you should put the bedframe together in the bedroom. Not the living room.” He walked around the wood pieces and began organizing them into piles.

“The bedroom is really small, so I figured it would be easier to put the big pieces together out here and then put the whole thing together in the bedroom.” You watched with some distain as he easily began to piece together the headboard. “You don’t have to do that, you know…”

“Do what?” He asked but didn’t look up from his crouched position on the floor.

“Help.” You shrugged. “I heard you loud and clear last night that you aren’t looking for friends.”

Dean paused for a moment. “Maybe I’m just staying for the good music.”

“You like The Eagles?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“One of my dad’s rules to live by is that you should never trust people who wear socks to bed or people who hate The Eagles.”

“Your dad sounds like a smart man.” There it was again, an elusive smile from the self-proclaimed loner. You were sure you saw it this time. “But I do have to say that no one beats the mighty Zep.”

You could respect a guy who loved the classics. “Wow, the good taste in music almost makes up for the crabby attitude.”

Dean knew you were teasing and gave you a fed-up look. “Do you have a drill?” He asked.

You picked up a screwdriver from the counter and held it up. Dean shook his head. “No, an actual drill.”

“I have a hammer…”

A chuckle escaped from Dean’s chest. “You were planning on hammering these screws into your new furniture?”

“I was working with what I had. Don’t judge me.”

Dean stood and amusedly shook his head as he made his way to the door, leaving it open while he walked to his truck and pulled a drill from the toolbox that was in the bed. As you watched, you noticed that your driveway had been cleared of the snow from last night’s flurry and couldn’t help but find that odd. You didn’t hear a truck outside your house this morning.

Dean skipped a few steps up the stairs and hurried inside, taking off his coat once he had shut the door after him. “Can I put this here?” He laid his it over the back of a chair that had been here when you moved in.

“Yeah.” You took one more peek out the window at the plowed path to your house from the road. “Hey, weird question, but you wouldn’t happen to know how my driveway got cleared, would you?”

“You ever heard of a snowplow?” His words dripped with sarcasm, but you were well versed in the language as well.

“A snowplow? Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell. What’s that?” You exaggerated every word, but Dean still looked up at you with furrowed brows before realizing that you were joking.

“I just didn’t realize the plows would come this far up the mountain. I promise I’m not as dumb as I look.” Kneeling a few feet away from him on the floor, you held the piece of wood his was trying to secure in place steady.

“The driver is a buddy of mine, He’s a good guy so he probably just wanted to help out the new girl.” Dean explained. You couldn’t help but feel lucky that you had found a place that was full of kind folks. The headboard was put together in a matter of minutes and Dean carried it into your bedroom with ease before picking out the pieces for the footboard.

“Thank you, Dean. I know this is probably not how you wanted to spend your Saturday afternoon.”

“I like to build things. I built my cabin, so a bedframe is a piece of cake.”

“I guess that’s pretty impressive.” Casually playing that off made Dean slightly smile again. You could tell he was feeling a little more comfortable.

“What are you doing up here all by yourself anyway?” He quickly wiped any traces of emotion from his face.

You shrugged. “I just needed a new start and this place fell in my lap, so I jumped. I might be a little in over my head, but I have to start somewhere, right?”

“Why’d you move?” You thought it bold of him to ask the hard-hitting questions but admired his straightforwardness.

You took a moment to carefully word your response. “Sometimes you just need to take yourself out of an unhealthy situation even if it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.”

Dean was surely picking up on your lack of details. “I can respect that.” His eyes fell to the bruise on your arm that he had first noticed a few days before. You self-consciously rubbed the sore spot and felt grateful for the phone ringing that stopped the conversation from progressing any further.

You looked to see that Bobby’s shop was calling and brought the phone to your ear. “Hey, Bobby.”

Dean watched as you slowly paced back and forth by the window. He had felt ridiculous this morning for washing a stupid plastic plate just so he could have an excuse to come over and apologize, but he was glad that risk paid off, even if you did think he was clueless.

As he put the last few screws in the footboard, Dean couldn’t help but overhear the conversation you were having on the phone. You sounded a little disappointed and Dean assumed that Bobby had called with bad news.

“How’s the truck?” Dean asked once you had joined him on the floor and began picking up the spare screws.

“Apparently my truck is an ‘old piece of crap’, and the only battery Bobby had that would fit ended up being a dud. He ordered a new one, but it won’t be in until Monday.”

While Dean agreed that your truck should probably be retired, he felt empathetic that you’d had so many problems with it since moving in. “I’ll give you a ride to work.” The words flew from his mouth before he really thought about what he was saying. That wasn’t normally something he’d offer to do. “If you want, that is.”

“Dean, I can’t ask you to do that…” You were sure at this point that he thought you were just some helpless stupid girl that didn’t know how to do anything for yourself.

“Well, you didn’t ask. I volunteered.”

“Still, you’ve done so much for me in the short time that I’ve been here, I feel like I’m just mooching off of you at this point.”

“I’ve barely done anything.” Dean brushed your statement off, but you knew you were right.

“You gave me a ride on my first day, fixed my battery, you’re here wasting your Saturday helping me put together furniture, and now you’re going to give me another ride to work on Monday. That sounds like mooching to me.”

“Your house and City Hall are both on my way to work. I haven’t been the most welcoming person in the world, so let’s just call it even.”

You could tell that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so you got up and went into the kitchen. You opened the cabinet and pulled out another plate of blueberry pie bars and took them to Dean. He gladly accepted.

After pulling back the plastic wrap and shoving a whole bar in his mouth, he mumbled, “Now we’re definitely even.” He rubbed his hands together to brush the crumbs off and finished his bite. “You had these the whole time and you weren’t going to share?”

“That recipe makes a lot. I figured I’d take half to you last night and the other half to work on Monday, but my co-workers aren’t here helping me put together furniture, so bon appetite.”

He put another in his mouth and nodded in approval. “You can keep the plate this time.” You couldn’t help but tease Dean. He stopped midchew and gave you a jaded glare which you did your best to ignore and instead focused on suppressing your laughter. Dean was still trying to hide his smiles, but you caught a glance anyway.

“It’s not a waste, by the way.”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“You said I was wasting my Saturday by helping you out. But I don’t mind.” He briefly looked up at you but continued before could say anything else. “Help me move these.”

After carrying all the pieces into the bedroom and putting them together, Dean helped you lift your mattress onto the frame, and you threw yourself onto the bed.

“So. Much. Better.” You closed your eyes and inhaled through your nose before giving a comfortable sigh. You knew your back would appreciate the little bit of give that the frame allowed. Dean was leaning against the door and you caught his eyes as you sat up. He quickly looked away when you noticed him staring.

“I saw two other boxes out there. Do they need to be put together too?” Dean almost seemed excited to dig into the next project.

“Yes, but if you have somewhere you need to be, I think I can handle it.”

Dean checked his watch. “It’d give me a good excuse to not go to Jo’s party tonight.”

“Jo, that’s Bobby and Ellen’s daughter, right?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, parties aren’t really my scene.”

“I’m with you on that one.” You were quite the introvert yourself and could relate to the feeling of social dread. “Well, if you’re sure, then be my guest.”

You followed Dean into the living room, and he dragged the bigger of the two boxes over and began to pull out the contents. A growl from your stomach and a glance at the clock told you that it was dinner time.

“Are you hungry?”

Dean shrugged. “A little.”

You opened your cabinets and fridge as if there would be more food than there was earlier. “I’m low on supplies, but I’ve got stuff for turkey sandwiches. Is that okay?”

“Sounds great.”

You threw together two sandwiches and Dean already had half the table put together by the time you were done. You handed his plate to him and sat down on the floor against the wall next to the fireplace. Dean shook the wood dust from his pants and joined you.

“So, accounting, huh? Was that always the dream job?” All of Dean’s questions were posed as if he was only making nonchalant small talk, but the way he intently listened told you that he actually cared about your answers.

“No, but it pays the bills, and I don’t mind numbers. I don’t always love it, but I really like the people I work with here.” Dean was still working on a mouthful of food and you figured it was your turn to ask the questions. “Did you always want to be a lumberjack?”

Dean scoffed. “I’m not a lumberjack!”

“That’s debatable. Sarah said you work at the sawmill, I’ve only ever seen you wear plaid, and apparently you’re the wood whisperer.” You motioned to the almost completed table.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t go prancing around the woods with an axe on my shoulder.”

“Whatever you say.” You figured if he wanted to share more details with you, he would.

“I don’t just work at the sawmill, I run it.”

“How is it being the head-honcho?” Although you did a lot of paperwork for you job, you didn’t envy the workload of a CEO.

“Awful.” His answer was blunt and straightforward. “My dad pulled me into the family business a few years ago and I took over when he got sick.”

“I heard about that. How is he doing now?”

“He’s good. I think he and my mom are hoping to move back soon.”

“What would you be doing if you weren’t working at the sawmill?”

Dean was a little caught off guard by your question. “Why does it matter?”

“Because you can’t go through life hating most of it. That’s just going to make you miserable.” You were speaking from experience.

Dean’s eyes examined yours as if he was trying to find an ulterior motive behind your questions. “I worked as a mechanic for a long time and loved it. I always thought I’d take over for Bobby when he retired down at the shop.”

“Maybe when your dad gets back you can switch over?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Dean’s hesitancy to open up when his dad was brought up told you to drop the subject.

After you both were finished eating, he stood and offered a hand to help you up. “Let’s get this thing finished so you don’t have to keep eating on the floor.”

You spent the rest of the evening handing Dean the hardware he asked for and listening to oldies. Maybe he wasn’t the most talkative guy in the world, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that fell between you two. It was actually nice to be in the company of someone who wasn’t going to push for every detail of your life story.

After breaking down the empty carboard boxes that were the remnants of a long afternoon’s work, Dean pulled on his coat.

“Thank you for all your help today. The place is finally starting to come together.” Although you were still without a couch, your home started to look more livable.

“Don’t mention it. So, I’ll see you Monday morning then?” He asked before he reached for the door handle.

You nodded with a smile and handed him the plate of blueberry bars. He excitedly took it from you and gave a soft smile.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Dean.”

Monday morning slowly crept up after a Sunday spent mostly in bed. It had snowed most of the day and night so you bundled up as much as you could. A peek out the window showed that your small driveway had been plowed again. You put a reminder in your phone to get a thank you gift for the plow driver who was a guardian angel in disguise. Dean pulled up just a few seconds later and you hurried out to his truck.

“Mornin’.” He greeted.

“Hey yourself.” You buckled your seatbelt and extended your hands towards the vent like you had done the last time Dean gave you a ride. His truck was much newer than yours and the heater worked like a charm.

“What’s on your agenda for today?” He asked as he backed out onto the road.

“Expense reports. They’re as thrilling as they sound. And also, I’m covering the front desk solo. Sarah texted and said she woke up with a fever, so she’s taking a sick day.”

“I’ll have to ask Sam how she’s doing.” A few minutes passed as you slowly made your way down the slick road. “So, listen, it’s supposed to snow all day. I’ll come and grab you after work and take you down to Bobby’s place.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. It’s like a ten-minute walk.”

“It’s a good excuse to make sure I don’t get pulled into some long boring meeting at the end of the day.”

“Well then in that case you’re welcome.” You gave a cheeky grin which was returned.

Thankfully, the ride to work was short. Driving in the snow gave you serious anxiety so the sight of City Hall was a welcomed one.

“What time should I come pick you up?”

“I’m off at four, but I can stay later if you can’t get out that early.”

“Four is great. One of the perks of being the boss is that I can make my own hours.”

Ellen waved to you as she walked in, so you quickly said goodbye to Dean and joined her. Dean waited to make sure you got inside okay before taking off.

“Did Dean give you a ride today?” Ellen looked at you skeptically.

“Yeah, my truck is still in the shop, so he volunteered to drop me off on his way to work.”

“Hmm. That’s weird.” She took her hat off and shook the snow from it. “It’s been years since I’ve seen Dean socializing with anyone that’s not in his little circle.”

“Honestly, I think he just pities me because I’m new and clueless when it comes to snow.” Shrugging your coat off, you set it on the back of your chair and placed your bag underneath your desk.

“I never thought I’d see him speak to another girl after what Cassie did to him.” Ellen shook her head and raised her eyebrows.

“Cassie?” This was the first you’d heard of her.

“Yeah, she broke his heart pretty bad a few years back.”

Garth appeared from around the corner and called Ellen back to his office. You knew that Dean had a rough few years but hadn’t heard many details aside from his dad getting cancer, which was a hard enough situation on its own. While you wanted to know more, you didn’t want to dig for info where it was none of your business. If Dean wanted to tell you about Cassie, he would do it on his own time and you would just have to respect that.

Dean arrived at the sawmill and made his way to his office on the upper level of the plant. Not ten minutes after he began his day’s work, Sam entered and sat down in one of the chairs across from Dean’s desk.

“Where were you Saturday night? I thought you said you were going to Jo’s party.”

Dean shrugged. “I got busy and didn’t realize what time it was.”

“Busy with what? I’m sure there’s not that much to do up that mountain of yours.”

“Just busy.”

Sam was used to his brother’s antics at this point and knew it was futile to push for details.

“How’s Sarah doing?” Dean asked, hoping to delay the morning managers meeting as long as possible.

“She’s alright. Woke up with a fever, so she’s just going to sleep it off.” A lightbulb went off for Sam and he frowned. “Wait, how did you know that Sarah’s sick?”

“Crap…” Dean thought to himself. He knew he was busted. “I don’t know. I just heard it through the grapevine.”

“I didn’t tell anyone about her and I’m pretty sure the only people she told were the people at work…” Sam thought long and hard for a few seconds until he realized what must have happened. “Y/N?”

Sam had always been too smart for his own good and Dean had always hated it. “I gave her a ride to work while Bobby has her truck. That’s all.”

“Is that what you were busy with on Saturday too?”

Dean sent messages to Benny and Cas, instructing them to quickly come up to his office to start the morning meeting and hopefully get Sam off his back.

Sam took Dean’s silence as a yes. “What did you guys do all night then?”

“We had a pillow fight and painted each other’s nails.”

Sam had a special bitch-face reserved for Dean and was throwing it his way now.

“We put together furniture and ate sandwiches on the floor. There, now you know. Happy?”

Cas and Benny walked in together.

“Hey fellas, what’s the news?” Benny greeted.

Dean knew from Sam’s devious grin that the end of this conversation was nowhere in sight. “Dean wasn’t at Jo’s party because he was with the new girl in town.”

Cas quickly turned his head and looked at Dean as if he had lobsters crawling out his ears. “This Dean? Our Dean?”

Sam nodded and Benny laughed as he took a seat. “I heard she’s real pretty! It’s about time you find a good one. Nice job, brother.”

Dean groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “Listen, I helped her out with one thing. I barely know her, so cut the crap or I will fire all of you asses.”

Cas, Benny and Sam all exchanged mischievous looks but dropped the subject to avoid Dean’s angry side coming out for the rest of the day.

The day was slow for you, but it gave you plenty of time to finish verifying payroll hours for everyone. Sarah’s energetic personality was definitely being missed as you began to feel drowsy around two thirty. The bell to the front door dinged so you stood to find Sheriff Mills and her son.

“Mom, you promised that you wouldn’t have to work today.” The little boy moaned.

“I’m sorry, honey. The Mayor just has to meet with me for a few minutes and then I promise I’m all yours, okay?”

“Hey guys! Can I help with anything?” You greeted.

“Y/N, hey. How are you settling in?” Jody gave a warm smile and did her best to ignore her son who was tugging at her sleeve.

“I’m finally getting everything set up, so I’d say pretty well. Who’s this handsome fella with you?”

The little boy blushed a little as you leaned on the counter and smiled down at him.

“This is my son, Owen. It’s technically my day off, but do I ever really get a day off as a Sheriff?”

Owen continued to pull at Jody’s sleeve and beg to leave.

“Hey Owen, do you happen to like hot chocolate?” You had always been good with kids and figured you try to help Jody out while she met with Garth. You were pretty much done with your work for the day anyway.

Owen nodded shyly. “Well, I don’t want to brag, but I make a mean breakroom hot chocolate. You want to help me make some while your mom meets with the Mayor? If that’s okay with her, that is.”

Owen looked to his mom for approval and she nodded. He ran behind the front desk and Jody mouthed a silent, “Thank you,” to which you smiled and led Owen back to the breakroom.

After making two steaming cups of hot chocolate, you took pushed together two empty desks and taught Owen how to play paper football. After showing him how to fold the paper and a few practice rounds, you began to keep track of points. The winner would take home a medal that you made from paperclips and an eraser.

Time flew by and before you knew it, over an hour had passed. You heard someone come in the door and looked over to see Dean. He had arrived a few minutes early and decided to wait for you inside rather than in the cold car.

“Am I crashing the party?” Dean leaned on the front desk.

“Dean!” Owen side-stepped the desk and ran to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist.

“You’re just in time for the final round of paper football. You in?” You held up the small piece of folded paper with a playful grin.

“Step aside, let the master show you how it’s done.” Dean ripped off his coat and set it on your desk. “What do I get when I win?”

You held up the eraser necklace and Owen excitedly added that he helped make it.

You and Owen were neck in neck in the first round, but you scuffed your last shot on purpose and made a big stink about it. Dean ruffled Owen’s hair as he knelt down at the end of the desk and lined up his shot perfectly. Owen held his own but missed his last shot and Dean knew that he could win if he made the next one. He set his paper up perfectly and you couldn’t help but giggle at the exaggerated sigh of concentration that he let out. Dean’s eyeline moved from the game quickly up to you as he gave a quick wink and under-shot his chance on purpose, giving the win to Owen if he made his next shot, which he did.

Jody paused before entering the room and watched from just out of sight as Owen jumped up and down in triumph. Ellen joined and leaned on the wall, watching as you helped Owen up onto the desk and presented him with the make-shift medal that you had thrown together. Dean put Owen on his shoulders and did a victory lap around the desks while squeals of delight filled the air.

“Are my eyes deceiving me, or is Dean Winchester acting like he’s been properly socialized?” Jody tilted her head to look at Ellen who was smiling knowingly.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him like this. Ever since a little bird flew into town, he’s seems to be a little less crotchety.”

Jody and Ellen watched the smile that you and Dean shared once he put Owen down.

“Mom!” Owen ran over and proudly showed off his medal.

“That’s great, hon!” Jody looked up as you and Dean approached. “You guys are lifesavers; I really owe you one.”

“We had fun, huh?” You nudged Owen with your arm causing him to blush and avert his eyes. You smirked and turned to Dean. “I’ll go grab my stuff and then we can head out.”

Dean knelt down and held his hand out for a high-five. “Good game, kid. That’s well-deserved.” He pointed at the eraser hanging around Owen’s neck.

“I like Y/N. She’s fun… and pretty.” Owen whispered to Dean. Jody instructed her son to grab his coat and said goodbye to everyone.

Dean was leaning against your desk when you came out from the back.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Ready.” You smiled in response.

Once you were in Dean’s truck, you asked, “how do you know Owen so well?”

“When my parents moved away, Jody kind of took me and Sam under her wing and made sure we were taken care of. We were over at her house for dinner a fair amount, so Owen and I are pretty good buddies.”

“Jody seems sweet. I like her.”

“She’s one of the good ones. A lot of people here are. Ellen has always been a surrogate mom to me as well. My dad and I don’t always get along, so Bobby and Ellen kind of adopted me when I was pretty young.”

“I’m sorry about your dad.”

“Don’t be. We all have our issues.”

Dean pulled up outside Bobby’s shop just a few short minutes later. “I’ll come in with you and make sure everything’s working okay. I gotta talk to Bobby anyway.”

You and Dean rushed inside out of the cold and Jo looked up from the front desk. “Hey Dean!”

“Hey, Jo. Your dad around?”

“He’s on the phone but should be done soon.” She turned her gaze to you. “You must be the new girl.”

“Yeah, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you.” You offered a smile to Jo, which was not returned.

“We’re just here for her truck. You got the keys?” Dean picked up on Jo’s attitude and tried to hurry the conversation along.

She shuffled through the box of keys that was on the desk and pulled one out, reading the tag to make sure it was the right one before tossing it to you. You caught it easily and thanked her.

“What do I owe you?”

“We’ll send you the bill.”

“Oh, okay. I guess I’ll just head out then.” You turned to Dean. “See you around. Thanks again for the ride.”

Dean nodded with a shy smile and watched as you got in your truck and left. He wasn’t sure why, but part of him was hoping that the truck wouldn’t start up, so you’d have to ride back with him, but he knew Bobby was too good of a mechanic for that. The rumble of your engine starting up signaled your official exit and Dean hastily made his way back to Bobby’s office to avoid Jo’s impending interrogation on why he had ditched out on her party.

You had gotten to work a little early the next day and were at your desk when Sarah came in.

“Hey, how you feeling?” You had texted her the night before to see if she needed anything, but she said Sam was doing a great job at playing nurse.

“Much better. I think it was just one of those twenty-four-hour bugs. How was yesterday?”

“Slow and quiet. It was weird without you here. Jody brought Owen in and we had a paper football tournament, which was pretty fun though.”

“I’m sorry I missed out!”

Ellen walked out from her office and sat at an empty desk next to you and Sarah. “Are you still good for Thursday, Y/N?”

“You bet!”

“What’s Thursday?” Sarah wondered.

“Ellen, Garth and I are heading to Baker for a convention on the new tax regulations for this year. We’ll head down Thursday morning and come back up on Saturday night.”

Sarah’s face dropped. “No, not this weekend! Saturday is Dean’s birthday and we’re throwing him a surprise party down at The Salty Hunter. I was going to invite you both today!”

“Oh, shoot…” You felt bad that you’d miss Dean’s birthday when he’d been so helpful to you lately.

“Well, maybe we can try to be back for the party?” Ellen suggested. “We’ll head out as soon as we can.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” Sarah pointed a finger at you both.

“What’s The Salty Hunter?” You wondered.

“That’s the bar on main street. Rufus, who owns it, used to be a hunter so he named it after himself. He’s a character but a good guy.” Ellen explained.

That night after work you went grocery shopping and then headed home to make some dinner and watch something stupid to unwind before bed. You changed into pajamas and a t-shirt and settled down at your new table. Before you could take a bite of your pasta, someone knocked on your door. You peeked through the curtains to see who it was and saw Dean standing outside, shaking his leg to try and stay warm.

You unlocked the door and the wind helped it open. “Get in here, it’s freezing!” You ordered and Dean gladly complied.

“How’s the truck working?” He rubbed his hands together to thaw his fingers.

“Like a charm. Bobby really knows his stuff.” You grabbed the blanket that was slung over the back of a chair and wrapped it around yourself as you sat and offered Dean the other chair at the table.

“So, uh,” he traced the woodgrain pattern on the floor with his eyes as if he was afraid to look at you, “I don’t know if you have any plans on Saturday, but some friends and I are getting together down at the bar if you want to get to know a few more people. It’s nothing big.”

“This little gathering wouldn’t happen to be for your birthday, would it?” You raised a knowing eyebrow. “Sarah told me about it today.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, but it’s not really a party or anything. I just thought it would be good for you to get out of this tiny cabin. I’m not even supposed to know about it, but Sam told me.”

You were surprised that Dean went out of his way to invite you, and the gesture made you feel even worse that you might not be there.

“I’m going to try my absolute hardest to be there. Ellen, Garth and I are actually going to be at a tax thing from Thursday until Saturday but we’re making it our goal to be back in time.”

“Like I said, it’s not a big deal, so don’t stress about it.”

“Birthdays are a big deal, so don’t play it off all casual. Plus, I already have the perfect present picked out for you, so it would be a shame if you didn’t get it.”

An inquisitive look lit up Dean’s emerald eyes. “The perfect present, huh? You sure you know me that well?”

“I am one hundred percent sure it will be the best present you’ve ever gotten from me.” Considering that you’d never given him a present before, you weren’t wrong.

Dean pushed his jaw slightly to one side and pressed his tongue to his canine while fighting a grin. “You’re funny, you know that?”

You scrunched you nose and stood from your chair. “Have you eaten? I’ve got extra.” Before he answered, you were already dishing him up a plate of spaghetti.

“No, I just got off work. Late day at the office.” He dug right into his food when you set it down on the table. “Are you planning on getting a couch or something?” He looked out into the barren room.

“No, I think I like empty, minimalistic look. It’s very modern.”

At this point, Dean had a pretty firm grasp on your dry sense of humor and just shook his head. He scarfed down his food and went back for a second plate while you cleaned up the kitchen a bit. He washed his own plate when he was done and placed it in the drying rack.

“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt your night. I would have just texted you to invite you, but I don’t have your number.”

You held out your hand and Dean reached into his pocket and gave you his phone. It was an old, sturdy Nokia flip phone and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Look at this dinosaur. I haven’t seen one of these since… I don’t know, middle school?”

“It’s not that old.” Dean tried to defend himself. “I tried the fancy smart phones, but I hated them. Who needs a phone for more than just calling and texting?”

You flipped it open dramatically and saved your number before handing it back to him right as it began to ring. “It’s Sam, I should probably get this. Thanks again for dinner. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You didn’t. I always make way too much pasta anyway.”

Dean gave a grateful smile and a small wave as he answered the phone and left.

Chapter 3

[cobaltusami]

Self conscious

Aaaahhhh this was so so SO much fun to write, Fuyuhiko Is my second favorite character from Goodbye Despair. I love this smol Yakuza boi so much. I wanted to do something sort of body positive, I'm not sure how well I did In that regard, But I love how this turned out either way. It's just so much fun to me. <3

Holy shit, It just occurred to me that this Is now my longest fic. and I wrote It In eight hours with breaks-- Dayum.

Also bonus fun points because Kuzuhina Is one of my favorite ships from the game-

Characters: Lee!Fuyuhiko, Ler!Hajime

Words: 4196 (It's a long boi)

Pairing: Kuzuhina

also mentions of MahiruXHiyoko

The sound of the ocean waves crashing against the sand, the warm sunlight enveloping his skin, the gentle cooling breeze dancing from tree to tree… It was almost relaxing enough to put Hajime to sleep.

Almost.

However, being pelted with a water balloon ruined that relaxing atmosphere.

He let out a shriek, jolting upright from his lying position on the newly soaked beach towel in the sand. His eyes darted around, offended, until they landed on the doubled over laughing perpetrator. Of course It was Ibuki.

“Bahahahaha! You should have seen your face! Ibuki thought you were going to have a heart attack!” She cackled, holding her ribs with one arm and pointing with the other.

Hajime should have known better than to relax, especially with Ibuki around. He sighed and stood up. “Yeah yeah, Very funny Ibuki…”

He felt something hard and plastic press Into his back, he quickly shot a questioning glance over his shoulder, meeting Chiaki’s gaze.

“It’s dangerous to go alone, Take this.” She whispered, He reached around and took the water gun from her. He winked and whispered his thanks, keeping the toy concealed from Ibuki’s line of sight.

“You think you’re sooooo funny, Don’t you Ibuki?” He smiled, shuffling closer to the laughing rockstar.

“Ibuki doesn’t think she’s funny, She thinks she’s hilarious!” She laughed, tears formed In the corner of her eyes. She was completely oblivious to her impending doom.

“Yeah,” He sighed, an evil grin on his face. “Well I think that this Is funny!”

The ‘this’ he was referring to, was blasting Ibuki in the face with a cold stream of water from the Water gun. She shrieked in surprise, still giggling as she brought her hands up to protect herself.

“Mayday mayday! Target has obtained a weapon! ABORT MISSION!” She went running off, With Hajime chasing after her laughing.

The other students laughed as they watched the two, joining In on the game by grabbing their own water guns.

Soon almost all of the students were enveloped In a water gun battle.

Well, Almost all.

Fuyuhiko remained in his spot In the shade under the tree, his arms crossed as he watched the others playing and having fun. Even Peko had joined In on the fight, throwing water balloons left and right like a friggin ninja.

He rolled his eyes with a fond smile watching their antics.

“Fuyu?”

He quickly stopped smiling as he looked away from the beach, looking up at a now dripping with water Hajime. “Y-Yeah?”

“Do you wanna join In? I’ll get you a water gun an--”

“No.” was his curt response. “I don’t.”

“Are you sure? You look kind of lonely over here all by yourself…” Hajime sat down In the grass next to him, pulling off his shirt and wringing it out.

Fuyuhiko glanced at him for a moment then quickly darted his eyes away, flustered. “I-I already said I don’t want to.”

“Will you at least change Into something beachy? That suit has to be uncomfortable.”

“No way!”

Hajime raised an eyebrow, questioning the urgency of his tone and the quickness of his response.

Fuyuhiko blushed, quickly thinking up a reason. “You’ll just shoot me with water if I do!”

He has a reason, but there’s no way In hell he’s going to talk about It. He’s insecure about his body.

“I promise I won’t?” the taller boy tried, thrown off by his odd behavior.

The young Yakuza shook his head. “No way.” he stood up and hurried inside the beach house, abruptly ending the conversation.

Hajime blinked in confusion. What was that about?

He wasn’t sure, But he knew someone who would be.

“Peko?” He approached the swordswoman, who was in the middle of cleaning off her glasses with a towel. “Can I ask you something?”

She looked up curiously, pausing her actions. “Sure. What Is It Hajime?”

“It’s about Fuyu.”

Her red eyes darted over to where Fuyuhiko had previously been sitting. “What’s wrong with Young master? Where did he go?”

“He went inside, He’s fine I think…” Hajime responded, putting the swordswoman at ease. “Does he have a fear of water or something?”

“Hm? Not that I am aware of. Why do you ask?”

“Because I asked him if he wanted to join us and he said no. Then he got kind of agitated when I suggested he change into some beach attire.”

She sighed softly, continuing to clean off her glasses. “Ah. I see now… Young Master Is, how should I put this… Self-conscious.”

“Self-Conscious? Of what?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“His body. He Is smaller than most boys his age.” She replied, putting her glasses back on and wrapping the towel around her shoulders. “He hates showing off his body.”

Hajime frowned as he looked back at the beach house, He wouldn’t have pushed him so much if he had known that.

“Don’t feel guilty. You had no way of knowing.” Peko said as she put a hand on his shoulder.

“I still feel bad though. I knew he felt self conscious about his height but I didn’t even think about his body.”

“Perhaps I should go check on him, If you are that concerned.”

“No! No It’s okay, I’ll go check on him. You go back to playing with the others.” Hajime interjected. This was the first time he’d really seen her let loose and have fun, He didn’t want to be the reason she stopped.

She gave a small tilt of her head. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I can handle him. Go have fun.” He smiled reassuringly at the woman, She gave one last skeptical glance before getting hit with two water balloons in the back by a wildly cackling Kazuichi and Ibuki.

She narrowed her eyes, Holding out her hand. “Hajime, I am going to need your weapon.”

Hajime chuckled at her dead serious demeanor and handed her the toy gun. “Don’t murder them.”

“I make no promises.” She replied, whipping around and pumping the water pressure slide on the gun. “Which one of you wants to die first?!”

Kazuichi and Ibuki screamed and went running with Peko chasing after them.

Hajime laughed and shook his head at them before making his way up the beach house stairs and into the building.

“Ugh,” Fuyu had lowered his book to see who came inside, but upon seeing it was Hajime he quickly brought it back up covering his face. “What the hell do you want? I already said I’m not joining you guys.”

“I know, I’m not here to ask that.” He replied softly.

He pulled out the chair across from Fuyuhiko and dragged It over to the spot at the table next to him before sitting down.

The Yakuza glanced up from his book again for a moment, a skeptical look on his face. “Then why are you…?”

“I’m here to apologize.” Hajime answered.

“Apologize?” He parroted, more confused than before.

“I didn’t mean to pressure you earlier, I just wanted to include you In on the fun.” He said. “I didn’t realize that you were self conscious about your body.”

Fuyuhiko’s face turned bright pink with embarrassment, His hazel eyes widening with surprise. “W-What?! I’m not fucking self conscious! Where the fuck would you get that idea!?”

Hajime blinked. “It’s okay to be self conscious, There’s nothing wrong with feel--”

“I am NOT self conscious! I just don’t like getting blasted with water!” Fuyuhiko shot back, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Fuyu?”

“W-What!?”

“Take off your shirt.”

“Excuse me??”

“If you aren’t self conscious… Take off your shirt.”

Fuyuhiko kicked out his chair from the table, aggressively shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the floor. Next he undid his tie and dropped it on top of his jacket. He did all this without breaking eye contact with Hajime.

Hajime folded his arms as he watched with a skeptical look, It was as if he was challenging him with his gaze.

The Yakuza started to unbutton his dress shirt but stopped halfway. Without his jacket to obscure his frame even a little, He already felt shy.

He crossed his arms and looked away from the brunette. “I can’t.” He mumbled under his breath.

“What?”

“I SAID I CAN’T!” He snapped, clearly flustered. “Are you fucking happy now!? Yes! CONGRATULATIONS YOU FIGURED IT OUT! I’m fucking self conscious!”

Hajime frowned and hooked his leg around Fuyu’s chair leg, Pulling him closer without any protests. “Hey, It’s okay. Everyone has something they’re self conscious about.” He reassured the embarrassed boy In front of him.

“Yeah right.” He muttered, still refusing to meet Hajime’s eyes.

“It’s true. Even I’m self conscious.”

Fuyu rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not.” He insisted.

“What do you have to be self conscious about? Look at you…” The tips of his ears turned pink as he blushed more.

Hajime smiled a little and reached forward, starting to button Fuyuhiko’s shirt back up for him. “I can’t make people laugh. I can’t tell a joke to save my life… I’m not funny.”

“It’s because you’re trying too hard. You’re someone who is unintentionally--” Fuyuhiko immediately clamped his mouth shut, flinching rather violently as he felt Hajime’s fingers graze his ribs accidentally.

Hajime paused what he was doing, his hands hovering over the buttons of the white dress shirt still. “What was…”

“N-Nothing!” Fuyu stuttered, pushing his hands back. “Listen… I appreciate the attempt to make me feel better but-- HEY!”

The blond yelped as he felt a few fingers poke experimentally Into his side, He reached down and grabbed his hands, holding them away from his body. “Will you fucking stop that!?”

The Yakuza didn’t appreciate the grin on Hajime’s face. “Oh, Fuyu… I might be able to make you laugh after all~” He said teasingly, trying to pull his hands free.

Fuyuhiko narrowed his eyes at the other boy, keeping his hands in a vice grip. “Don’t you fucking dare!” He hissed.

“Don’t I dare what?” Hajime asked innocently, batting his eyelashes at the smaller boy.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“I won’t.”

“Liar!”

“Will you relax? I’m not gonna touch you. Can I have my hands back now? I’m kind of losing feeling in them.”

Fuyu watched him closely as he slowly released his hands. Hajime made a show of shaking them to regain feeling. “See? Have I touched you?”

“N-No… I guess n-nahahaha! You fucking lihihihied!” Fuyuhiko giggled boyishly, doubling over in his seat to block as many spots as possible.

Hajime grinned as he dusted his fingertips along his exposed neck, when he brought his shoulders up to try to protect the sensitive spot he darted his hands into his partially open shirt and began tickling his ribs. “I didn’t lie, I’m not touching you… I’m tickling you. There’s a big difference.” He winked at the laughing boy.

“Ihihihif you don’t stahahahap right nohohohow, I’m going to kihihihill you!” The blond laughed, writhing under his torturously gentle touch.

“Ooh I’m so scared~ Is the big bad Yakuza gonna kill me dead In my sleep?” Hajime laughed, paying special attention to a sensitive spot near the bottom of his ribs. “C’mon, How am I supposed to be scared? You’re so adorable when you’re being tickled!” he cooed.

The young Kuzuryu’s neck and ears turned red from that, He brought his leg up to try to kick Hajime away. “Stahahap! Dohohon’t fahahahacking tehehease me you jeheherk!”

Not only did he not succeed In kicking him, Hajime caught his leg and held it firmly in his lap as he administered tickles to the top and underside of his knee. “I’m afraid that’s gonna be impossible, You’re just too cute not to tease~” He hummed In reply.

Fuyuhiko squealed and desperately tried to pull his leg back, laughing much harder than before. “N-NOHOHO! AHAHAHAHAHA!”

Hajime glanced down at his hand, noticing every time his laughter spiked It was because he was scribbling against the spot above his knee. “You have ticklish thighs, Fuyu?” He asked amusedly, now honing In on that spot.

Fuyuhiko spazzed out, His body flailing at the electric sensations coursing through him. Unfortunately that meant he also threw himself out of his chair.

As soon as Hajime realized what had happened he was quick to follow, Kneeling beside the still lightly giggling boy. “F-Fuyu?! Are you okay?? I’m so sorry, I didn’t think you would fall…”

He gently pulled the blond up into a sitting position and was checking his head for any injuries when Fuyu waved him off. “I-I’m fine…” He reassured, still recovering.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that, It’s nice. You should laugh more often.” Hajime smiled.

“Y-Yeah yeah… whatever.”

He thought about It. Maybe that wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever been through… It was actually kind of fun to let loose. He was still super self conscious about his body but for a minute he forgot about that, only focusing on the sensations and laughing.

Then again, Maybe It's the possible concussion talking.

He blushed as he shook his head. “I’m just glad you didn’t hear my real laugh.” He mumbled. “It’s really obnoxious.”

“Your real laugh?” Hajime tilted his head, his curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, when I laugh hard enough I snort.” He calmly replied.

“Okay, I have to hear that.” He laughed, slowly raising his hands.

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself.” Fuyuhiko narrowed his eyes half-heartedly. What he wanted to say was; ‘Go for it.’ but Yakuza pride and all that.

Hajime Isn’t an idiot, he can tell Fuyuhiko likes the attention but won’t admit it. And he isn’t going to make him uncomfortable by making him admit it.

“Who’s gonna stop me? You? I’m so scared.” Hajime smirked, quickly he pulled the Yakuza into his lap and pinned him against his body. “Now, Wanna make It easier on us both and tell me your ticklish spot~?” He asked teasingly.

Fuyuhiko squirmed, seeing If escape was even physically possible. It wasn’t. “Go to hell.” He growled, blushing.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, undoing the rest of his shirt buttons. Using both hands he ghosted his fingertips across the exposed sides.

Fuyu immediately began giggling again, his body actually relaxing under the soft touches. It wasn’t unbearable or torturous, but gentle and pleasant instead.

Hajime smiled at the string of bright laughter moving to his ribs brought about. He massaged his fingers in small careful circles against the ticklish bones. “Come on Fuyu~ There’s only a few spots I haven’t tried… If I have to find your tickle spot myself I’m really not gonna be nice~”

“Fuhuhahahahack you!” Fuyuhiko retorted, squirming aimlessly.

“That’s not very nice.” Hajime pouted, shoving his hands under the Yakuza’s arms. His fingers drilled and wiggled unrelentingly, which drew hysterical laughter from the smaller of the two.

“NAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP!”

“I would, But you sort of have my hands trapped and… Well, since they are, I might as well tickle you~” He teased, obviously pleased with himself for turning the tough Yakuza into a laughing heap in his arms.

“HAHAHAHAJIME! I WIHIHIHILL STAHAHAB YOU!”

“No you won’t.” Hajime smirked.

He continued to torture the blond student for a bit longer before ‘freeing’ his hands and brushing his fingers across his quivering stomach teasingly. “How about here? Is this a bad spot, Giggles~?”

The boy let out a shriek as he quickly brought his hands down over top of Hajime’s, trying to pry them away out of instinct. “Dohohon’t!” He tittered, blushing.

“Ooh, Looks like It is!” He declared, unfazed by Fuyuhiko’s attempts to stop him. His fingers gracefully descended on his soft belly.

Fuyu shrieked again, throwing his head back with loud bright laughter. His body jolted, and was sent flying out of his lap by the intensity of his flailing.

Hajime froze, did that seriously just happen a second time? He didn’t stay frozen for long, He sat on his legs to pin him down. “There, Since you’re on the floor you shouldn’t be able to fall for a third time.” He laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Fuyuhiko’s face couldn’t get any brighter pink. He wrapped his arms around his midsection to hide his body and protect his stomach. “Okay, You found one of my worst spots… congratu-fucking-lations… Now let me up.”

“Oh no, I’m not letting you out of this. I warned you what would happen If you didn’t tell me, Didn’t I?” He hummed. “Although, I think Instead of being mean, I’m going to be nice instead…”

Although the tickles that he unleashed on his poor belly weren’t very nice. His fingers scribbled mercilessly against the sensitive skin.

“KYAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAP!”

“Look at this cute ticklish belly, It’s just begging for affection. And what better affection than tickles?” He grinned at the whine that slipped past his lips.

“THIS IHIHIHIHISN’T BEING NIHIHIHICE!” He whined between laughs.

“Yes It Is. I’m going to compliment every spot I tickle so that you feel a little bit better about your body by the time I’m done.” He replied. “I think that sounds pretty nice to me~”

Fuyuhiko covered his face with his hands, hiding his embarrassment.

“I like all the freckles across your skin, It makes you unique and It looks adorable~”

He switched to skittering his nails across his trembling stomach, drawing some higher pitched laughs from the boy. “I also like how your skin turns pink after a little bit of tickling.”

“BAHAHAHAHASTARD STAHAHAHAP IHIHIT!”

“Nope!” Hajime leaned down and blew a raspberry against his belly button.

“NAAAAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAJIME N-NAHAHAT THAT!” He laughed hysterically.

Just as he said, He began to snort between laughs. It was absolutely precious to the younger of the two.

“So what If your frame Is smaller? At least you have all your organs and bones, like your ribs for example.” He winked, fluttering his fingers across his ribcage. “There’s definitely twenty four of em. Unless you want me to count~?”

“Nohohohoho! *snort* Don’t you fucking dahahahare *snort* You bahahahastahahahard!”

“Well, Maybe I better count. Just In case.” He winked, Starting from the bottom set of ribs he worked his way up teasingly, Counting as he did.

So this was how Fuyu was going to die? Not the most dignified death in the world but… There’s worse ways to go, he supposed.

“Yep! All twenty four ribs!” Once he finished he skittered his fingers across Fuyu’s neck. “Your skin is really soft and tender, Perfect for tickling~”

“I wihihihill ehehehehend you!” He giggled.

“Shush! Let me hype you up.” Hajime laughed, going back and forth between neck, chest, ribs and underarms. Keeping Fuyuhiko In stitches. (and snorting, much to his chagrin.) “So what If you're not as tall? I think your height suits you. Plus, It makes it easier to pick you up and smother you with tickles.”

“Okahahahahay! Okahahay! *snort* Ehehehenough! Plehehehehease!”

Hajime relented, sensing he’d had enough. He sat down on the floor next to him and watched his chest rise and fall as he gasped for air.

Fuyuhiko brought his hands up and wiped the tears away from his face with his sleeves. “Oh my… God…” he panted.

“So, Are you feeling any better?” He asked with a grin.

“Y-Yeah… Th-Thanks…” Fuyu blushed as he sat up. “But… If you tell anybody what just happened--”

“Don’t worry, It’ll be our little secret.” Hajime winked, smiling at the flustered Yakuza.

“I can’t believe you think I’m cute. I am not fucking cute.” he huffed, crossing his arms.

Hajime blushed. Huh, He didn’t realize how that might sound without the proper context… Of course he didn’t mean romantically initially but.

He also didn’t feel any need to clarify this.

Is this inner conflict between platonic feelings and romantic feelings what being bi Is like? (Yes. Yes It Is. at least In my experience--)

“I can’t believe you think you aren’t cute.” Hajime retorted. “If I find out you’re feeling self conscious or dissing on yourself again, I will find you, and I will wreck you with compliments and tickles.”

Fuyuhiko gave a cheeky grin. “Is that supposed to deter me? You think I’m afraid of you?”

Hajime smirked and stood up, offering his hand to pull him to his feet. “You should be. Because you said I found one of your worst spots, Not the worst one… which means I still need to find it. And when I do, there will be no mercy.”

Fuyuhiko shuddered internally as he took Hajime’s hand and got to his feet.

“I’m not going to pressure you but… I might have a temporary solution If you wanted to join us.” Hajime said, going over to where he left his swim bag. From it he produced a tee shirt. “You could wear this with your swim trunks so that you don’t have to walk around shirtless.”

The Yakuza’s expression softened. “I didn’t bring my swim bag.”

“Peko did. She thought you might change your mind.” Hajime looked up at Fuyu and smiled, standing back up. He set the clean shirt on the table and ruffled Fuyu’s hair as he walked past. “If you change your mind…” He lingered in the doorway, looking back at him. “I’d love It if you joined us-- Uh, I mean, WE would love it-- Oh, You know what I mean.”

Flustered, The usually tsundere boy hurried back to the beach, Leaving behind the smiling Ultimate Yakuza.

“There you are! You sure were gone a while.” Mahiru sighed. “What were you off doing anyway?”

“Was Young master okay?” Peko asked, suddenly at his side.

“Fiend, Why Is your face so red? Are you possessed by a demon!?” Gundham asked.

“Did someone say Demon possession?” Sonia practically bounced over, Her eyes sparkling excitedly at the prospect.

Hajime stammered, Trying to process his words. “I-I was at the beach house with Fuyuhiko, He’s okay Peko.” He answered both Mahiru and Peko at the same time before turning to Gundham and Sonia. “No, I’m not possessed by a demon.”

“Aww...” Sonia pouted momentarily.

“Then why is your face so red? Did you forget the Human uv protection barrier?” Gundham asked, crossing his arms.

Hajime blinked. “The what?”

“Sunscreen?” Sonia asked, Turning back to Hajime after Gundham nodded in response to her question. “His face does not look sunburnt. Actually his face looks like it is going back to it’s normal color.”

“So that means Hajime was totally blushing!” Ibuki giggled. “What went on In that beach house, I wonder.”

Hajime’s face went red again as he was swiftly reminded of the reason he was blushing in the first place. “Sh-Shut up Ibuki!”

“Did something happen with Young master?” Peko asked curiously.

“N-No, Of course not! I-- GAH!” Hajime yelled In surprise as he was pelted with a water balloon, He whipped around In the direction it came from, Expecting Soda or Chiaki to have thrown It but instead finding Fuyuhiko.

He stood there barefoot In the sand, wearing swim trunks and Hajime’s shirt, which looked baggy on him and obscured his frame.

Peko’s face lit up, As did Hajime’s. The others were shocked.

“Hey Dumbass! Don’t lie to them. The truth Is I was going to stay inside but he cheered me up and convinced me to join you all.” He smirked, winking at Hajime who smiled lightheartedly.

“Well, There goes my fun! Who said he could join us??” Hiyoko pouted.

Chiaki sidled up to Fuyuhiko, handing him a rather large water gun with a bright smile. “Upgrade unlocked.”

Fuyuhiko grinned and took it from her. “Target acquired.” He responded, Locking eyes with Hiyoko as he pumped the water pressure slide.

The dancer screamed and took off running with Fuyuhiko on her tail. “NOOOO! MAHIRU HELP!”

“GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Fuyu called after her.

Mahiru and Hajime exchanged looks, cracking up laughing at their friends. “I’ll get my girlfriend to be nice if you go call off your boyfriend.” She said jokingly.

Hajime blushed, laughing along with her. “Deal.”

“Hiyoko! Over here!” Mahiru called, taking off running after her girlfriend.

“Fuyuhiko! Stop it, she’s already deeeaaad!” Hajime called after his friend, Laughing. He took off running after him too.

Chiaki leaned against Peko, sighing dramatically. “I think we pushed them In the right direction today.”

Peko nodded, patting the Gamer’s head. “It was smart of you to bring Fuyuhiko’s bag. How did you know he would change his mind?”

“I had a feeling. Thanks for carrying it for me, It would have looked suspicious If I’d been spotted with it.” Chiaki smiled sweetly up at the swordswoman. “Good work getting Hajime to go check on him. I don’t think either of them saw us In the doorway.”

Peko faintly smiled, watching Fuyuhiko get thrown over Hajime’s shoulder and carried away from Hiyoko. “I don’t think so either. Not that they could have heard us over Young Master’s laughter.”

Chiaki giggled as she watched Hajime getting sprayed down with the water gun now. “Mischief managed~”

[rowan-underthehouse]

Shot Glasses and Shadows

Pairing: Castiel/ Dean Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 2,011

Warnings: slight self-harm, mention of blood

Additional Tags: hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, Abandon All Hope Coda, Mentioned Jo Harvelle, grief/ mourning

Summary: Dean struggles with the aftermath of Abandon All Hope. Castiel is there to help.

Read it on Ao3 here

It’s the moments between hunts where Dean starts to lose his balance. When there’s no monster to fight, and the adrenaline pounding through his limbs fades away.

There are things he can do to stop it. He can make dinner runs while he tries to list the name of every song he’s ever put on a mixtape, or blast the radio until the speakers crackle, or sprint until his lungs burn. As long as he keeps moving he can fight it off. But as flames lick the glossy edges of the closest thing to a send-off they can give Jo and Ellen, all Dean can do is root his feet to the ground and watch.

He doesn't walk away from the fire until the photograph is reduced to ash. The crumbling of Jo’s gentle features is almost beautiful here. He wonders if Jo could feel the flames in her last moments. If she still believed her death meant something. If it felt beautiful.

“I’m going to clean up.”

“Dean you don’t-” Sam follows his gaze to the cluster of shot glasses still spread across the table, not finding the right words until his brother is already gone. Sam knows better than to follow.

It shouldn’t take him more than fifteen minutes to finish the kitchen, but Dean’s limbs are heavy with guilt and the half bottle of whiskey he’s already downed. He’d expected it to feel different to be back here. Everything warm and homey and right should have burned up with Ellen and Jo, but Bobby’s kitchen somehow missed the memo. This is still the same place they’d laughed and drank and squeezed out smiles around the dread no amount of alcohol could quite wash away just the night before. It’s Dean who’s out of place. He shouldn’t be here, surrounded by a past already so long gone it aches. It’s going to collapse in on him at any second.

The first shot glass that shatters against the hardwood floor is an honest-to-god accident. Dean lets the second roll out of the crook of his elbow, watching with the closest thing to satisfaction he can muster as broken glass dusts his boots. The third, he smashes into the worn countertop. He feels the blood pooling under his palm before he registers the glass wedged there. It brings a sick, bubbling laugh to the back of his throat.

He’s watching the blood run along the edge of a fourth glass, rolling it over in his palm when a hand appears on his shoulder.

“Dean,” The unmistakable crunching of dress shoes on glass pulls Dean back to reality. “You’re injured.”

Dean tosses the shot glass in his hands into the sink, almost disappointed when it doesn’t shatter. He shrugs Castiel’s hand off his shoulder, doing his damn best to ignore how cold he feels at the tiny loss of contact. Cas has that effect on people. That warm sort of feeling that starts deep in your chest and spreads to your fingertips until it feels like everything might be alright. Sam feels it too, Dean’s sure, but it doesn’t seem to be burning him up from the inside the way it does Dean. The relief he feels when Cas grabs his shoulder again is humiliating. He wipes it clean off his face before Cas can turn him around.

“You’re bleeding, Dean,” there’s more force to it this time. Dean stares expectantly, waiting for the feeling of grace stitching the fibres of his hand together, but nothing comes. Cas’s eyes fall to the floor. “I’m...going to get the first-aid kit.”

“So, what? Not going to mojo me back together? Cas, is there something you want to tell me?” He squares his shoulders, taking a step toward Cas. Of course something’s wrong. Not even an angel of the lord could get that close to Lucifer and come out unscathed.

“Because if something happened, something that we should know about, you better spit it out before it gets someone killed,” Dean closes the distance between him and Cas, staring down with what he hopes reads as more malice than concern and waits. Cas should be snapping back at him or threatening to throw him back to hell or something but he’s just standing there, gaze cast at the floor.

“It’s not important. It won’t affect my ability to help in your fight against the devil,” Dean turns away with a scoff just loud enough for Cas to hear. Somewhere deep beneath two hours worth of whiskey he knows he’s trying to start a fight, but he doesn’t care.

Even turned away, Dean can feel Cas’ gaze burning into his back. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to do something useful?” He nods in the direction of the library where every piece of lore they could find is still strewn out on the desk. The words taste bitter on Dean’s tongue, but if it gets Cas to do something, anything, other than stand there and stare straight into Dean’s soul (Maybe literally. Dean hopes not) it will be worth it.

Dean doesn’t turn around until the footsteps have faded from the kitchen. He drops the remaining shot glasses into the sink and kicks Jo’s chair in as an afterthought on his way out the door.

Sam and Bobby are nowhere to be seen, no doubt already tucked away in their respective rooms trying to figure out how to get through the night. Dean doesn't bother asking how they got Bobby up to his old room now that the sofa has been temporarily dragged back to its place in the library. He suspects Cas had something to do with it.

The fire is little more than embers when Cas comes back around the corner, battered first-aid kit in hand. Dean’s stomach churns. He should apologize.

“Throw another log on.”

Again, Castiel fixes him with that stupid, sympathetic, stare and does as he’s asked.

“You’re grieving.”

Dean almost laughs. “Really, Cas? I hadn’t noticed.”

“You shouldn’t try to stop it. It won’t help,” Cas settles on the sofa and unpacks the kit, examining the contents carefully while he lays them out on the end table.

That old rage bubbles up in Dean's chest again. “So what am I supposed to do, huh? Just sit here and moan about it in the middle of the friggin’ apocalypse? We have work to do, Cas. Stow the Vincent Grey crap.”

“Give me your hand.”

He thinks about arguing. About trying again to stir up some kind of fight just to feel something other than hollow for a few seconds. Angry is easier. Safer. But then, this is Cas. He knows every atom of Dean’s body and can recite his earliest memories like the goddamn pledge of allegiance. There’s no point hiding. He lets some of the tension holding up his body seep back into the floor.

Cas is more gentle than Dean can handle. All calloused hands and careful touches that are anything but clinical. Letting him in is frighteningly easy. It’ll be letting him go when he finally realizes the Winchesters and all their problems aren't worth the effort that will be like pulling stitches.

“They trusted me,” It’s barely a whisper, but Dean’s throat closes around the words. “They trusted me, and I led them to their deaths.”

“You did the best you could. They knew the risks,” There’s a strain in Cas’ voice Dean has never heard before.

Dean’s eyes are burning. He can’t bring himself to meet Cas’ gaze until a thumb swipes across his cheek, brushing away the tears there. For once he finds himself thanking god in all his infinite absence that Cas doesn’t realize the intimacy of the gesture “You did the right thing, Dean. You tried.”

There’s a weight to his words that Dean can’t quite pin down, the teary smile plastered on his face making Dean want to either wrap his arms around Cas or make a break for it. He shoots for somewhere near a more reasonable middle.

“Are you uh…” Dean is struck very suddenly by just how bad he is at this, But he has to try. It’s Cas. “Are you holding out okay?”

“Human grief is different. It’s...heavier”

If tearing down heaven brick by brick could pull that weight off Cas, Dean would do it in a second. It terrifies him how far he’s willing to go.

“Yeah.”

The mess of bandages Cas eventually manages to secure around Dean’s hand isn’t pretty, but it’s a relief. He tosses the bloody glass in a trash bin and dries his now clean hands on an embroidered dish towel that may have been colourful twenty years ago. “I’ll leave you to rest.”

He’s halfway to the door by the time Dean swallows his pride enough to say something. “Cas, wait. Have you - eaten anything? It’s been a long day.”

“I don’t eat.”

Dean spends the longest ten seconds of silence in his life wondering if he could bore a hole through the floor with his eyes to crawl into. This may be the dumbest excuse he’s ever come up with, which is not an easy title to win.

“Are you asking me to stay?”

Maybe it’s the whiskey clouding his mind or the idea of spending the rest of the night drinking his way through whatever’s left of his liver alone that finally snaps a cord in Dean. He sinks back into the couch, exhaustion taking over.

“Please.”

With a creak of old springs and cushions creasing just enough for Dean to slide, Cas is back on the couch, a good few inches closer than the last time. Of course, it doesn't mean anything. Cas is an angel. He can’t understand the way the closeness makes Dean’s heart leap out of his chest. But the way he presses his shoulder against Dean’s is distinctly and undeniably human. He doesn’t want to be alone either.

The next few hours drift by in near silence, broken only by offers of whiskey and the occasional non-committal remark. When Dean’s eyes slip closed, his head lolling against Cas’ shoulder, Cas doesn’t try to wake him.

Once Dean does finally open his eyes, it’s with a pounding headache, and his face pressed against the rough fabric of Cas’ shirt. Through the fog of sleep Dean slowly becomes aware of his limbs tangled with Cas’ where they’ve sprawled across the sofa. He’s a split second away from launching himself onto the floor when he registers Cas’ hand resting loosely against Dean’s back. The slow tide of his breathing. He can’t be asleep but Dean’s never seen him this relaxed. His hair is a disaster where it’s rubbed against the arm of the sofa and his coat is more on the floor than his body. He must be meditating or praying or whatever the hell angels do to recharge their heavenly batteries. It would be rude to interrupt him, Dean reasons, and he’ll be awake again within a few hours. There’s still plenty of time before sunrise. A few hours can’t hurt. In the moment before he’s pulled back to a dreamless sleep, Dean swears he catches the shadow of wings cast against the wall, curled around his body.

…

It’s not unusual for Sam to be awake before his brother. He rolls out of bed some time after sunrise, stumbling toward the kitchen before he’s even finished rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He very nearly walks past the tangle of limbs on the couch before Bobby rolls into the room, gesturing for him to stay quiet.

“They haven’t moved since Cas brought me back down here. Let them rest. They need it.”

And they do.

When Dean finally stumbles into the kitchen, Cas having disappeared mere seconds before he woke up, Sam doesn’t say a word about it, just smiles into his coffee mug. It’s good to see someone keeping Dean steady for once, and if Dean isn't ready to admit it yet, that’s a problem for another day.

[risquefanfics457]

S/o Sleepover with the Dwuang + yong Joseph ?

I’m sorry, personal stuff has been crazy, I hope it’s okay with just Okuyasu and Josuke and Joseph.

The Duwang first has the idea when Okuyasu says that he has never had a sleepover. Josuke pounces on the chance and shakes him around, “DUDE!” 

“What?”

Koichi chimes in “We should have a big sleepover!”

Josuke hops around in a small circle like a kid on Christmas eve. “We should do it at your house!”

After that, the plan was set, Two days from then, from 7:00pm to 10:00am. 

Josuke

“Y/N, Y/N! Are you ready for the best night ever?”

He is so friggin excited! He is packing early and buying snacks and everything!

Blankets are a yes, big ones so he can snuggle next to you. He is stoked to get his chill on.

Bam! Romantic movie, BAM, Marvel, BAM, oh, some DVD about him as a baby. He brings it to his mom, “What is this doing with the movies?” Tomoko laughs and tells him it was just a keepsake she made herself when he was small. You yank in out of his hands and pack it in with the rest of your stuff for the sleepover.

Totally worth it.

By the time you guys are almost all settled after watching Captain America, you whip out the DVD much to Josuke’s surprise. “Y/N! No!!!”

You slide it in and watch a small wrinkly infant appear on screen. Bald.

Josuke sighs in defeat.

“Josuke, you were bald as a baby?” Yukako snickers.

“Hey, like you are one to judge me! You were probably just a baby... made of- hair or something!” Josuke defends.

It doesn’t make a lot of sense but as the slideshow progresses you can see him with some black tuft on his little head. From his first smiles and giggles to rolling over. This must have meant a lot to Tomoko. The more you watched, he gets bigger and bigger and his hair grows out until by age 4, the famous pompadour makes it daybout. He slowly grows more and more confident and your boyfriend slides up to you and puts his hand on yours and you wrap each other in one of the many blankets Okuyasu had. 

“You sure grew up to be handsome.”

He smiles.

“You were adorable though.”

“I’m not adorable...” He pouts. “I’m... masculine, and-”

You kiss him “And mine.”

Okuyasu

Shoot. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

On the day of the sleepover he shouts, “Y/N! You’ve gotta help me!!!” He wraps his arms around your waist and slowly sinks to the floor. “I dunno what I’m doing...” He actually starts tearing up. 

“Oku, you’re gonna be fine. I’ve got you.”

You start by picking out a room for the sleepover to take place, “Living room would be good, right?” Okuyasu sets up a metric ton on blankets on the floor. “Is that enough blankets?”

You giggle, “More than enough, babe.”

“Oh thank god, I spend my months allowance on this stuff.”

“So, Josuke is bringing snacks and movies, and Koichi and Yukako are bringing games and activities, we just need to have the place decorated and music. 

You make a quick stop at your house and grab a bunch of fairy lights and by the store to pick up the latest album you had been saving for and you phone Josuke and tell him to bring a CD player for music.

When the time comes, everybody is awed by the lights and the enormous pillowfort from all of Okuyasu’s blankets. When Josuke goes to set up the movies Okayasu pulls you aside, “Thank you, Y/N. I couldn’t have gotten this to look as good as it is without you.” He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. You reach up and cup his cheeks in your hands, “Anything for you babe.” You give hima quick peck and slip away to go watch 

Young Joseph

“Oh, Y/N!~”

You stop what you’re doing and follow the sound of his voice to him. “Y/N! Guess what?!”

You smile and shrug.

“Tonight, Lisa Lisa has Caesar and I pulling an all nighter! She wants us to spend all night awake without a wink of sleep, she says it’ll show resilience, or something, but do you know what that means?”

“Hamon training?” You ask.

“NO! SLEEPOVER!” He practically swings you around, “My best friend and my lover, having a whole night of fun together!”

“You made that sound really weird, Joseph.”

“My bad, but we can hang out all night, that’s like...”

You sit and wit for him to do the math in his head and then count on his fingers...

“8+ hours for anything!”

You smirk, “So, what’s the plan? Some booze and and music?”

“Precisely! I got some stuff in my room and then we just need a couple records and we’ve got a night of fun!”

“Okay, I get it. But don’t ever call it that again.”

The night begins with Joseph rushing into Caesar’s room yelling, “I BROUGHT TEQUILA!” 

You brought some makeup with you, Joseph said you should but you weren't expecting 2+ hours to be dedicated to ‘Joseph’s Drag Show’. You enjoyed it but Caesar just sat in the corner just shaking his head. Joseph frequently begged Caesar to let him put makeup on his face, with that a new competition began. Whoever falls asleep first gets a full face of makeup.

They played ‘Never have I ever’ with shots, and just competed over who was better with ladies, in the end, they both got super drunk, it was never decided because they threw hands and passed out. You were still somewhat sober and decided to cake both of them in makeup. 

[occult-castiel]

Leave a message (after the beep!)

Suptober. Day 13: Rewind Dean has a few things to say to Cas. Word count: 2542 [Read on Ao3]

3 Weeks.

Dean's been stealing glances at his phone for over an hour. The dim light of the hall that creeps from under his door is the only reason he can see the thing, blurred out to a barely-there grey hunk of plastic.

The idea is fucking stupid. He doesn't care what Sam thinks. Sam wasn't even supposed to know. Let alone have fucking opinions.

But Dean slipped.

And it took more effort than he will ever admit to walk out of the kitchen without clocking his brother in the goddamn jaw.

Fuck Sam and fuck the phone.

He turns around, away from the stupidest temptation of his life, and demands sleep come.

It's only mildly successful.

2 Month, 1 Week.

Nothing bad can happen from a phone call. Doing it once can’t hurt you any more than you are now

Sam's a well-meaning kid. He really is. But sometimes he just needs to can it.

'Cause he had to go and say some shit like that, completely unprompted — they were talking about potential witch activity in Utah, not Dean's feelings, for Christ's sake — and now it's all Dean can think about now that the distractions of the day have bled into a dark room and cold bed.

And that gray hunk of plastic on his desk is laughing at him. He could reach it if he sat up. Stretched a bit.

But the idea is dumb. And Sam doesn't get it. He really fucking doesn’t.

Except Dean knows he's kind of full of crap.

He grits his teeth, shoves the covers to the side, and grabs his phone.

With each passing buzz, his heart stutters, breath cut into shorter and shorter spurts.

Stupidstupidstupid.

It- it isn't like he's gunna answer. Dean knows he not, but it just rings and rings and —

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail."

And it hurts.

He calls again every night for the next week. Of course, he never picks up. Sam doesn't ask.

4 Months.

Dean kicks the door after it slams shut. Throws his gun at his headboard, if it goes off and shoots him, oh fucking well. It's great. Just fantastic.

He pulls his phone out without thinking. Clicks Cas.

It rings, and for a moment his shoulders relax as the familiar greeting plays. Cause its Cas' voice. And fuck. Just… fuck.

Then it beeps, and he actually does the one thing he's wanted for months.

"None of your douchebag family will answer me. And I've tried friggin' everything, I swear to Christ."

He runs his hand over his face, glances up at the sour-yellow ceiling.

"How you ever stood them is beyond me dude."

And then, like a rational human being. He hangs up and pretends that whatever that was didn't happen.

Once the bitter taste of angels that don’t pick the fucking phone up from earlier that day fades, Dean stares at the darkened ceiling.

He left a voicemail. A fucking voicemail.

Pathetic.

4 Months, 3 Weeks.

So he hasn't called again since his, uh, slip up. And Sam keeps giving him these little looks. And he knows that Sam knows, and knows he isn't calling because he's a changed man or whatever.

Maybe Sam would drop it, whatever the hell he thinks Dean's mess is, if he could manage to eat.

Jody, Claire, Kaia, and Alex are all around the table with them. Jody's the charmer she always is, talking about how she's grateful for the help and oh, of course you guys are gunna stay for dinner! Ah-ah! No buts.  

There was a hunt in town she tracked down with Claire, a huge vamps nest — we're talking dozens — and called them over for help. And is now feeding them. Because she's a saint and never deserved to be in the know in the first place.

Dean looks at the food. Pork lathered in dark brown graveyard with a mountain of buttery mashed potatoes. There's a pile of carrots on Sam's plate. Dean opted out.

Not that he's eating now. No, mostly just pushing it all around. He does eat in general.

But Claire isn't looking at him. Hasn't. She barely managed a glance up when he saved her — just a small nod and weary glance.

Sam, on the other hand, may as well be ogling.

Dean wishes he could read Sam's mind, find out where he's keeping it so Dean can wallow in misery without his brother being keen on some of the finer details, thank you very much.

He manages a few bites. Its excellent, mouth-watering, home-cooked goodness he's missed fiercely since he got a taste for it the few days Mrs. Butters was around.

But right now? Turns his stomach.

On the way back home, Sam clears his throat. Dean grips the wheel a little tighter.

"So —"

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Samantha."

In the corner of his eye, Sam's shoulder slump. His brother looks down and sighs out a sad little noise.

But the rest of the drive is quiet. And that's a win in Dean's book.

*

It's roughly midnight, and books are scattered across the library table. They're all open to different pages, but none of it matters. Not really.

Dean's combing through it all anyway. Has been since Heavens decided they have a no-call policy with anyone named Winchester.

The piles he has laid around him have grown increasingly larger as the weeks have drug on. Spiked exponentially when he decided not to call anymore.

"Hey Dean."

Dean snaps his head up mid-sentence. Sam stands in the threshold, holding a plate. In pajamas.

Dean just looks at him. "What?"

"Made you food." He lifts the plate up a fraction

"That looks like a cold cut, so made is a generous word."

Sam has the audacity to slump into himself, full-on wounded-puppy mode. So Dean rolls his eyes and waves him over.

The plate gets sat down with a distinct clank, and Sam pats his shoulder.

"You know I just… want what's best for you."

Dean tenses his shoulders, closes the book in front of him. He speaks through his teeth.

"Yeah, well I never had it in the first place. And now it is gone, and there's nothing I can do."

"You don't know that Dean."

He glues his eyes to the back of the book. Balls his fists.

"Don't I? That — That fucking thing just —"

"I know. But it's also gone. We don't know what happened."

Dean chooses then to look over, fix his brother with a proper glare so he'll go the hell away — but sees it.

Sitting innocuously on the plate, like it isn't an affront to everything Dean would rather not, is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Sam's talking but he can't hear it. His brains turned to mush, a radio-static circus of nothing.

The bottom of his chair screeches as it drags against the floor.

And Dean can’t see.

Sam grabs his arm, he shakes it off. He moves decisively, tries too, but his eyes prickle and he can’t see shit, and he isn’t about to cry right there in front of his brother, validate every stupid thought the guy has that’s probably one-hundred percent right.

His door clicks shut, and he pressed himself against it. Slides down until he hits the icy floor.

Dean's throat is a constricted cage, each breath in has to be muscled in, down, out. Each wobble as much as the last.

Sam doesn't know shit. He doesn’t know what he's talking about. He really doesn't.

Calling someone who can’t answer, won’t ever answer, is fucking stupid. It's not therapeutic.

When he rubs a hand over his face. It comes back wet, and his eyes sting.

"Fuck."

He fishes for his phone. Going to Cas' number is muscle memory at this point.

It rings. Cause Sam can't help but keep the thing charged.

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail."

The ball in his chest is impossibly tight. Why hasn't he called? Just to hear him again, the gruff tenor that's like gravel and silk and the only thing he ever wants to hear, ever. And now he only has nine words he'll ever hear him say again.

That's it. Two sentences.

You saved the whole world. He didn’t save shit.

And what the fuck is he supposed to do now? How is he supposed to do anything? He’s never been any good, not as good as he needs to be. Maybe if he would’ve been — or did somethin’ different, anything different —

Dean threads his fingers in his hair and balls his fist. Squeezes his eyes shut against the pool of tears that just leak out, and curls in on himself. His guts are twisted and tight, just like the rest of him. Every part of him shakes, the hand vice-gripping his hair should hurt, should be enough to pull him back to sanity, but the tears don’t stop.

And really what does it matter if he cries. Chucks gone, and The Empty, that — that thing got what was coming to it.

But Cas didn't come back.

He lulls his head against the door, untangles the hand from his hair like his fingers piston operated they ache so bad

God, Cas should’ve just left him in Hell.

Maybe he's Heaven, Billy had said with a shrug. Casual. Like she didn't understand. And Dean knows she does. She gets it more than any of them, saw just what this shit did the last time. Saw exactly how much he didn't want to be around.

Jack had to fuck off to put the universe in balance, so he’s MIA and no help. And Heaven doesn't seem to give a shit.

There must've been a beep somewhere, so Dean just goes with it. Presses the phone to his ear again and works his jaw open until it’s loose enough to allow something resembling words can happen.

"It's — it's bullshit." God Dean can't recognize his own voice, pulled thin and hoarse. "You — you know that right? Bullshit." He shakes his head. Tries to take a deep breath that comes out only slightly less ragged. "You always left. And I — I get that you had to sometimes. But no one wanted you here more than me."

He wipes his face off with the collar of his shirt. His skull screams in sharp pain, and his temples thud. And normally this would be too long of a pause, but normally you don't start a voicemail off trying not to sob, and normally they're made for people who can actually listen to them. So whatever.

"This is stupid. It's not — voicemails ain't your style." His breath leaves, and exhaustion sets deep into his bones. "You always just called back for the explanation. You'd leave 'em, though."

At least Dean assumes. Every call back he'd ever gotten from the guy he'd have to fill him in on whatever was happening anyway. Guess it makes sense in a way. If you have enough time to listen to a message, you've got enough time to call.

The space behind his robes aches when he says, "We both shoulda picked up more, I guess. And Sammy wants me to call now. Like it makes up for shit. It doesn't."

He swipes the little red phone to the left, and stares at the word Cas in his contacts page.

But the screen goes blank, and all he can see are his puffy red eyes reflected in the black screen, and that's motivation, so he gets ready for bed.

1 Year, 10 Months, 13 Days

He calls a few times after that. But tries not to leave voicemails for someone that's just gone, in every sense of the word.

It’s dumb. Still really dumb. And he has no defense for it. Eventually Sam hands him Cas' old phone and a charger. All of the missed voicemails untouched.

Dean could swear he remembers ever last one.

They're mostly simple crap, sometimes. Updates.

"Sam and Eileen are getting hitched. They're pretty fucking disgusting together. But sometimes they look at me, and I can just see it, man. See how they like, bubble themselves off." He laughs, but it's strained.  "Guess it just be written on my face. Which is just friggin’ fantastic. Cause I'm happy for them. I've always wanted that for Sam. But I wanted it for us too. Fucked up that I can only say it now, huh."

"I don't like the way burgers taste anymore. And I, uh, have a bumper sticker now. It's a bee. I kept it together until Sam got misty-eyed." There's a pause for a touch too long, then, "That mixtapes been the only thing in Baby for a month."

"I kept the trenchcoat. Wore it earlier. Got cold out for the first time since —" he sighs. "You wore it better. Looks like shit on me. It pretty much lives in my closet. Can't get monster guts on it that way."

But sometimes it's just a confession, none of the other bullshit. Just the truth.

"Look. I'm not mad. So don't think that. Cause I'm not. Wish I was. It's — it's always been easier. But I was trying to get my head on straight. I would've for you. I just… Don't know how now."

"Can't tell if I like using your old angel blade or fucking hate it. Don't like much of anything anymore. You were better with it."

"Id pray to you, but this is all I got. And I wish I could hope you're up there. But then I'd hope there isn't any pay per view Earth or whatever. Cause this shit? Is pitiful." A sigh. "G'night, Cas."

And one night, a long time later, he's sitting with his back against his bed, nestled next to the end table he never used, he says the truth in a way he knows he should've years and years ago.

"Guess this is like prayin', ain't it? Sammy caught me a few months ago. He wasn't even surprised I'm still doing this. Told me it was, uh — It was okay. Even if I just… never did. And you know what? I don't think l can." He gives a small laugh. "Hell, I only leave messages when I'm feeling, I dunno, brave? Like some part of me thinks you could still hear it and tell me to get lost."

Logically, he knows Cas wouldn't have kicked him to the curb. Wanted him just as much.

"God I listen to it almost every night dude. Just hearing this stupid fucking line —  It's like hitting rewind, for a few seconds."

The rest comes off easy, in its own way

"I miss you, Buddy. And I — I love you more than I know what to do with. I wish it would've been enough. But instead, it killed you."

He ends it, and calls back. Just to listen to the only thing he'll ever hear Cas say again. It’s not a replacement, never will be until he can see if Heaven really does have an angels left.

But the only faith he ever had is just an echo on the other end.

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail."

[lunapwrites]

20, 29, 70 Let’s test the same person theory again <3

Oh hooo, yes, lets!

20 - I honestly WISH I could still write effectively at my desk, since it's the best set up for it, but since my brain has decided that's Work Space Only, I have banished myself to the couch... where I try to sit in the corner with my laptop and often end up falling asleep lol.

29 - Honestly just get excited with me about any shared interest? Like tea: I fucking love tea, I can go off about tea for hours. Music? Heck yeah. I'm a friggin golden retriever, man. On which note: animals! I love talking about animals. And natural disasters. And food.

70 - I am right handed, but my partner is a leftie, so I'm at least familiar with the struggles. Always have to be careful about seating arrangements at family get togethers haha.

Thanks!