#whoa I wrote something sappy

[demonslayedher]

The Taisho Secret canon content regarding The Legend of Zenitsu has unfortunately made me have to give up beloved concepts in this future!Zennezu headcanon post. Most specifically, Old Man Zenitsu's with a mustache, because Word of Gotouge says he never grews facial hair. Zenitsu is probably far more disappointed than I am about this.

But also, it has all given me a much deeper headcanon about "The Legend of Zenitsu" being a bonding experience in their marriage, for Nezuko is a big fan, like so, what with Nezuko being a willing model for Zenitsu's praise-worthy paintings.

And is my brain spinning headcanons again? Yeah.

--

Zenitsu wished he could rub it in Tanjiro's face that he got a book deal. Not on everything, just on "The Demon Slaying Arc ~Fated Encounters~," "The Heavenly Maiden Arc ~I Am Willing To Die For You~," and "The Life of the Man Who Loved The Spirit of the Plum Tree Arc." No one else deserved to know "The Tastiness of Nezuko-chan's Cooking" anyway, for Zenitsu had described it too well and it would be like sharing his wife with a bunch of slimy readers. Bad enough that he still had to share with Inosuke all the time.

But Tanjiro didn't rub it in. He smiled and made as kind a sound as even, and congratulated him.

Maybe Tanjiro had grown too mild to say or feel anything more than that.

Because Zenitsu had a publisher and small fan base, he got paid a small advance to keep writing. Not even to stop going to an office job in town, if he wanted to to keep spoiling Nezuko with nice things. The stroke to eager made him write "The Beautiful Swordswoman Nezuko Arc" in one night, but "The Golden Dragon Wandering Alone Arc ~Go And Rescue Nezuko!~" was one he slogged through. It was getting to be a handful, going to work and raising a kid living up to expectations now that people had them of him. It felt good at first, but it made the writing less fun.

His heart was hardly in it when he wrote the "Botamochi from Zenitsu Arc." The sales tanked, and Zenitsu's publisher didn't bother him when he said aside his pen for a while. It was a long while, and there were other things going on anyway.

Not long after Tanjiro died, Nezuko caught a flu that was going around. It honestly made Zenitsu a little glad to have an excuse to leave his kid with Aoi for a while so that he could have Nezuko to himself while she was contagious. He didn't need anyone's help to take care of him, because every cell down to his soul cared only about how he might pamper and comfort her.

"Nezuko-chan, come on and drink a little. It'll make your throat feel better."

"I can't. I don't want to," she moaned. Tears escaped her hopeless eyes. She still must have felt so gutted, and Zenitsu knew he could do little to fill her for the time being. Some of that hopeless look must had been from thinking she'd never be free of the headache, but at least that much he might be able to soothe.

"Why don't you rest your head on my lap for a change? Here, I'll stroke your forehead for you."

"You should sleep."

"I can do it in my sleep," he smiled to her. "Actually, did you know that the legendary hero Agatsuma Zenitsu can be even more powerful when he sleeps?"

At this, she gave him a weak smile. The first he'd seen lately. "Yes."

"It's true! It's because he can hear the sound of his wife at his side. It powers him up like lightning coming right out of his empty eye-sockets! Actually, there was one time when he blinded his enemy before the roaring sound of his power knocked him over."

"Or the sound of his snoring."

"No, no, it's thunder like it shoots right out of him! You see, it all started one night in a terrible, creepy forest, when he saw a helpless man swooped backwards into the tree tops..."

When Nezuko recovered, Zenitsu picked up his pen again, and published "Rumble of the Knock-Out Secret Swordsmanship of Zenitsu Arc ~The Legendary Man’s Eyes Shine With Light~" not long afterward. It sold decently, and it was nice to hear that he had some fans who were excited about it.

Life fell back into a new busy normal, and Zenitsu's muse was fickle. "The Potato Feudal Lord Arc" was just a passing thing for fun, not something he'd ever tell his publisher about. It was more fun for a while to try out other things, like painting. As long as Nezuko was his model, Zenitsu found he had a knack for it. He ran into Yushiro one time though, who told him he was a hack, and they got into a big argument that ended with Zenitsu throwing all his brushes and unused canvases at him and daring him to do better. Those had all cost a lot of money, so Nezuko was not happy about that. Likewise, she wasn't happy when Zenitsu refused to sell a painting of her and tore his pants while throwing a fit.

By the looks of Nezuko's ledgers, it looked like Zenitsu was stuck at that desk job, selling electricity around the little mountain foothill town. He had been there so long that he got promoted for being good at sitting in the same chair for years, and that meant moving closer to a bigger town, closer to the growing metropolis, where Zenitsu felt right at home and Nezuko assured him she would adjust.

What would Tanjiro think, now that nobody bought charcoal anymore?

The world that once had demons seemed further and further away and the droll of adulthood stretched on, and powers he couldn't behead with a swift Thunderclap and Flash fought amongst themselves. More and more, there were expectations of Zenitsu, and people depending on him. He had to assure people they would still have light and heat even as Tokyo burned, and the sound of planes rattled his ears almost daily. He was a man of his community now, and the only one his family could depend on. At Nezuko's insistence, they collected nearly-blind Kanao and his nephews and niece, and he tried to insist to Inosuke to stay with them in town where there were bomb shelters, but Inosuke, just as responsible for his own family, felt he kept them safest going deeper and deeper in to the mountains.

Nezuko knew nothing but worries. Sometimes, he almost wished she could be back to a childlike state of mind, protected from all the pain and horrors she so unfairly had to endure. In the darkness of a bomb shelter, he hugged her close as she trembled. "Say, Nezuko-chan. Do you remember that time..."

"What?"

"...that time the great hero Agatsuma Zenitsu was a teeny-tiny, but very, very strong mouse?"

He could hear her worries lift, however slightly. Maybe that was all a mouse could do.

"Actually, it was when he was a little boy. You'd never guess it, but he was very cowardly. That was a terrible warlock with a fancy red mark around his eye painted him with a magic white makeup that turned him into a mouse!"

She stifled a snort against his chest. "Uzui-san..."

"Yeah, that was the warlock's name! Did I already tell you this story before?"

"A mouse?" his son clung tighter to him, sometime he hadn't done in years. Even when he was little he always clung to Nezuko instead anyway. Zenitsu could tell by the tone of his son's voice that he was already teary-eyed and sniffly.

"Yeah. A little mouse who thought he had no power at all. That the world was too big for him. But as it turns out..."

What really hurt was Nezuko's reaction. She sighed with disappointment, and lamented that this was why he spent so many long hours away from home.

That was a story Zenitsu recorded later, as a memory of those times. It stayed on his bookcase at home next to the Potato Lord story, now that the world was quiet again.

Business picked up really well. The world got brighter, and so did the indoor lighting. As a general sense of optimism filled the world again, the small but dedicated base of "Legend of Zenitsu" fans called for a new installment. He responded well to praise, and soon gave them "The Dragon Palace Arc ~Eternal Nezuko~," but being so busy as a highly promoted seat-warmer at the office meant he had things he had to do while sitting in that seat. He put on weight again, and spent a lot of sad, long evenings stuffing cookies in his face while streaming with tears that he couldn't be eating one of Nezuko's homecooked meals instead. "Sitting In A Happy Circle and Boiling Tea in Our Bellybuttons Arc" was something he secretly wrote at his desk as a form of silent protest. His publisher rejected that one after reading only one page.

Of course! He had to be at home to write his best work! He had to be in the same space as his muse, Nezuko! Another quickly written revenge work of his, "The Future Holds Zenitsu Arc," was considered one of his better ones.

After that, he was satisfied with writing for a while, and he muse pushed him to start playing (perfectly) the piano. Nezuko was not thrilled about the piano he bought.

If only he had taught it to Nezuko, then. Her joints all bothered her, but she kept sewing out of willpower.

This new hobby inspired another novel, and Nezuko inspired another novel after that of course, and the stress of their son getting married and wanting a lavish wedding inspired another novel and another novel after that was a desperate attempt to strike it big and get out of the debt that wedding cost them. After all, Zenitsu's daughter-in-law was a cutie and he wanted to spoil her. It made Zenitsu remember how cute Nezuko was when they were newlyweds, and before that too, of course, and now too, and before he knew it he had written yet another novel, despite his dwindling fan base. Nezuko sure liked that one, though, and that was all that mattered.

The years went by. Zenitsu felt he lost his mind over how his granddaughter got cuter every time he saw her, and he eventually reached some arbitrary age when his company could only promote him to retired. Aside from the aches in his legs, he felt as young as he always did, though. Kanao said it was probably the effects of Breath technique. It sustained them without reaching a threshold at which it would be dangerous to them.

Zenitsu still wrote sometimes. He stayed busier when his busy-body grandson read the old unpublished "The Birth of Zenitsu Arc" and insisted on learning Thunder Breath. That was like a new job Zenitsu never asked for, especially since he still only knew one of the original six forms, but Kiriya sent him a letter askeing him to give it a shot, for who knew what the future held. Certainly not demons, Zenitsu was assured of that much. If Yushiro gave his novels a bad review one more time, he'd make sure of there were no more demons left in the world.

He got back in touch with Inosuke. He thought it might never happen after he abandoned the old house and charcoal mill, but the whole time, Inosuke had been on the mountain next to it, where he had always been King of the Mountain. He still took care of the house, he said. But a King still had to be King. They weren't the only people on the mountain, though. Aoi paid house calls. Still, Zenitsu gave Inosuke a stern lecture about making Nezuko (as well as Kanao) worry, so Aoi made sure to drag Inosuke into the bigger and bigger city sometimes.

Zenitsu's newest hobby to drop money on was photography, but now that he was a pensioner, Nezuko did not mind so much. She even agreed to let him fulfill his dream of taking her to Paris. He was glad he had that camera, to prove how the city could not outshine her.

He was glad he took her when he did. Her joints made it harder and harder for her to get around, even though she always smiled and insisted Zenitsu's legs must hurt more. He didn't like it when she laughed and joked around about chopping her legs off to grow new ones.

"Grandpa," his youngest granddaughter looked to him with a tearful face, "Grandma was saying something about being a demon again. I wish she'd stop that."

"I know, right!? She's a princess, and the very spirit of a plum blossom tree! A shrine maiden too!"

"There's no way someone like Grandma would ever go to hell."

He paused, and his stomach sank.

Nezuko gave up her sewing. She spent more and more time in bed, but with no desk job to sit at and a grandson taught enough that he could be told to go off and practice on his own, Zenitsu spent his days writing again. He took a long time on that novel he wrote for her, putting in all the sorts of parts he knew she liked. Sometimes he couldn't help himself and reads parts aloud to her without telling her everything else that already happened in the story. She smiled and enjoyed each fragment anyway.

"I've finally got the title for this one!" he announced. "It's called, 'I Will Be In Love With You A Thousand Years Arc.' Perfect, huh? Well, maybe it's still missing something. A million years, maybe?"

"Zenitsu-san... tell me a story..."

"I am! I'm telling you the greatest story yet! It's about this immortal princess who..."

"Tell me a real story..."

He paused and listened to her heartbeat as she took a breath--a simple, unpracticed breath in tired human lungs. Nezuko still made the same warm sound that she always did. It had a different resonance when she was a demon, and when he carried another life inside her, but it was always uniquely her.

"I want to hear... about the time you spent with my brother."

"Tanjiro? Yeah, he... hasn't been in these for a long time. Maybe I'll bring him back."

"You cared so much about him," she smiled from her futon. "That was why you protected my box, before you even met me."

"He... yeah."

"I'm glad you were such good friends... I want to hear about all those good things that happened to you. About your Ojiisan, and your little bird..."

"Yeah," he grimaced to a smile, and the inside of his nose zapped like a storm was brewing. "I had a lot of good things happen to me. A lot of bad things too."

"It's up to you to decide if you're happy or not. I hope... you'll decide you were happy."

"Yeah," he said, the snot already flowing. "The happiest. I'll tell you all about it. I'll make it my best story ever."

"You promise...?"

He kissed her forehead. "I'd never be able to come up with anything better than the truth."

[castlebyersafterdark]

you are never too sappy! (congrats btw! + big love to the mike to your will... i see that blue heart and height difference mention 😉) the balance works so well so far. like a little glimmer of you. especially as its always relevant through a byler prism, so youre not making it all about you at all. i cant believe how cosy it is here. i genuinely await your writing like i would a new published novel hahaa. i also was going through my likes and saw an anon post on spicybylerpolls from february. it mentioned the sears catalogue and byler's fantasies and i had adored it at the time. rereading now, i'm like... VINNY?!?!? hahaha maybe it's not you but it's textbook and the style of writing and openminded humbleness felt very you. love.

especially love the self-acceptance journey you seem to be on here, allowing yourself nerdery, allowing yourself spice in byler forums, keeping a healthy eye on your online habits! + growing to love yourself more through will perhaps, keeping up with your writing, learning you kind of love cringe roleplay sex in fic?!?!? hehehehehe and also realisations that you may or may not want to share! its all gold dust - and honestly, this feels like blogs as i knew them growing up, like wordpress, blogspot, etc. proper old blogs where it's just right mix of artistic and personal.

x

Thanks, I feel so happy being here, everyone is so sweet 😘 Saving the dash from my personal rambles:

I didn't want to ruin it by changing things up too much. But, I do kinda want to talk about whatever here and post the occasional non-Byler stuff, still mostly the normal fandoming and spicy posting like I've been doing. Keeping the chill vibes. This does feel very much like a different type of blogging than I'm used to. It's cool. Even if people get sick of me or lose interest, I'll pretend that's not the case hahaha. Corny as hell, but it feels safe here.

Incredibly flattered that you look forward to my writing! I've always wrote fic and original pieces and scripts and loved it but had zero confidence. Did it anyway. I still have a lot of growth to work through with my writing when I decide to post polished fics, but that's fun now, feels different. I have so much in the wheelhouse. It'll fuel me to season 5 and beyond, I'm pretty sure.

That's funny you mention the spicypolls account, because I HAD to go searching through their archive and I found that post - wow, I see what you mean. The typing style certainly could make you think it's me, and it was an excellent post but full disclosure - I've never sent anything into that blog before! I only started this blog in May (whoa! 2 months?? Feels a lot longer!) and I genuinely only lurked and never interacted anywhere on the spicy corner before I converted this account, even on anon.

And I never thought I'd learn things about myself through something as genuinely kind of silly as what is, at its core, an explicit head-canon and writing blog for a fictional fandom ship. Hahahaha. But here I am. Feeling a little more confident in embracing my vulnerabilities and weirdness. Weirdness isn't bad! It's stuff I've known but it's different when you just live your life, instead of actually talking about it outside of your brain. Helps me feel less embarrassed after posting here sometimes - I look back over what I post and just cringe on occasion but power through a little easier lately!!

And ohhh it always comes back to the cringe roleplay, doesn't it 😏 Which has been a fun exercise in letting myself play around and try new things in general, with writing. With real life. Be a little weirdo. Find your people. Stay authentic.

Thanks for this one, it's a little self-indulgent, rambling about myself, but it made me smile. ❤️ Incredibly corny, but this is the kind of environment I think I've always been searching for online, but looked in all the wrong places. So, ughhhh. Finally.

[seiyasabi]

Ripe For The Pickin’

(This is a Yandere Kita x Fem Reader Story! Hopefully y’all like this lmao, sorry if his hick accent is annoying lmao, I thought it gave him ¬flavour¬

Tw: !!noncon!, !misogyny!, breeding kink!, !Detailed postpartum depression!!!, !!!Mentions of attempted suicide and murder of a child!!!, !Mental illness!, !Defeatist attitude!, !Disassociation!,  housewife reader!, threats of physical harm!, manipulation!, mentions of kids!, etc.. 

Please proceed with caution! Note: Part of my family are farmers- my grandpa specifically, and he speaks very similarly to how I wrote Kita’s dialogue (the joking bit). He had a farm in Hawaii growing up, and he always jokes that he’s ‘but a country folk,’ so I mean no offense to those who own a farm. )

Throwing down his work cap on your kitchen table, Kita visibly brightens at your busy form. Your two year old son is balanced perfectly on your hip, your other hand stirring a pot of Udon. The steam rises around your head, slightly flushing your (skin colour) complection. 

Looking up, your eyes immediately meet the white haired male’s, causing you to freeze up momentarily. He sends you a warning look. 

“Welcome Home, Shinsuke,” A wobbly grin spreads across your painted features (just how Kita liked- he likes when you try to look good for him), catching the attention of your son immediately. 

“Daddy!” He practically hops out of your hold, rushing to the large male. Your unwanted husband scoops him up in his buff arms, swinging him around. 

“Whoa, one’a these days yer gonna throw yer Pa’s back out,” He grins happily at his carbon copy, smooching the small boy on his grey hair. 

The little one giggles cutely, basking in his father’s presence. You quickly approach Kita, hugging him from the side, and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, “We’ve missed you all day, My Love,” He always likes it when you’re sappy- it makes him feel wanted. 

At your words, he delivers a lingering kiss to your lip tint stained lips, your son half in your arms and half in your husband’s. You lightly pinch your babe’s cheek, causing him to giggle, before you kiss him on his forehead. Kita visibly brightens at your affectionate side, his open arm wrapping around your waist, “What’cha makin’ fer dinner, Pretty Lady?” 

You cringe internally, yet you can’t help the blush that forms on your pretty face, “Kazue wanted Udon- I hope that’s okay,” Shinsuke nods, a thoughtful look on his face. 

“‘O course,” He lightly pinches your son’s other cheek, “If our growin’ boy wants Udon, by God, he’ll get it.” 

-

Settling Kazue down in his bed, you give the sleeping boy a tender kiss on the forehead. As much as you hate Kita, you don’t have the heart to hate your son. He, like you, didn’t ask to be here, so you decided to be the best mom he could ever have. 

Smoothing his blanket over his lower body, you tuck the other bits under him, and lay his favourite stuffy next to him. Once done, you step away from the slumbering babe, and make your way out of his room. Kita is waiting in the night light lit hallway, leaning against the opposing wall. 

You jump slightly, not expecting him to be there. 

“Is something wrong, Shinsuke?” A practiced smile appears on your face, hands clasping behind your back to keep you grounded. 

He says nothing, motioning you to follow him, before turning and walking towards your shared bedroom. Shuffling after him, you try to still your rapidly beating heart. Did you do something wrong? 

Kita isn’t one to shy away from punishment. If anything, he revels in the momentary feeling of power-that is, until your broken body and mind are left in the aftermath. Then, he can’t help but feel horrible, because in some twisted way, the man truly loves you. So, he’ll try to cuddle and kiss his wrongs away, trying to forget that he’s the catalyst of all the things going wrong in your life. 

Burying those thoughts away, you step into the darkened room, noticing immediately that Kita is settled on his side of the bed. He’s stripping himself of his overshirt, exposing his wife-beater underneath, “Ya know, I think it’s time fer the boy ta have a brother.”

It feels as though the world around you is crumbling. Just when you gain a sense of normalcy, the bastard rips that away from you. 

Your smile visibly wavers, but you try to hold strong, “I-well, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Your hands are trembling, your heart practically being torn from your chest, “Kazue is still a toddler, I think it would be better if he was around five. Then, he can interact with-” Kita holds up a hand, halting your speech. 

“Yer gettin’ too technical fer the simple folk in tha room, Pretty Lady,” He stands to his feet, discarding his slippers, before slipping his baggy jeans off of his lower half, “Jus’ say yer too selfish to give yer lovin’, hardworkin’ husband tha things he deserves-” 

Kita knows that you had postpartum depression. He knows that you not only almost hurt yourself, but also your precious son. He knows that you had to be sedated at one point to even continue living. Yet, it seems like he doesn’t care. 

Tears fill your eyes, as you finally let your feelings become known, “That was horrible to say, Shinsuke. You know how hard it was for me-”

“It was also hard fer me too, ya’know,” He’s doing it again… trying to manipulate you into being the bad guy, “Seein’ ya go bonkers was hard ta’ watch. Plus, seein’ our son almost drown in tha tub-” 

“Stop it!” You finally lose your cool, surprising your usually collected kidnapper, “You don’t get to claim it was hard for you, when everything is your fault!” His mouth open and closes like a dying fish, unsure what to say, “If you waited for me to be ready to have children, I wouldn’t have spiraled out of control. If I was given the help I needed, I wouldn’t have gone psychotic. If you hadn’t stolen me away from my life and forced me to bend to your will, none of this would have happened!” By now, you’re a sobbing mess. He always does this. Kita always breaks you down until you seem crazy, but you’re not. You’re just tired of how he treats you like a baby maker, tired of how he treats you like nothing, yet claims you’re his entire world. 

But, when you hear him sigh softly to himself, you know that he doesn’t care about your feelings, “Do I need to use the gag? I thought we were above that.” 

Knowing that refusal won’t be tolerated or respected, you don’t bother wasting anymore of your breath. Slipping off your house slippers, you shuck off your dress, revealing your bare chest and panties. More tears slip down your face, as you lay down on your large shared bed. 

Shinsuke grins at your compliance, quickly moving between your legs, and stripping you of your drawers. His rough fingers rub at your clit and slit, “Good girl. ‘Ya know yer man jus’ wants what’s good fer ya, an’ a baby is good fer any good woman.” 

You ignore him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Kita continues to rub against your clit, trying to coax an orgasm out of you. But, you don’t give him the satisfaction. 

Staring at the ceiling, you let your mind go. Your dissociated body reacts well to his ministrations, your arousal coating your thighs, as they tremble in lieu of an orgasm. 

His fingers dig in deep, as they force your pussy open. Feeling how relaxed you are, he decides that you’re loose enough to go right in. 

Pulling out his thick cock, he bumps the head against your slick cunny, “Don’ worry, Darlin’, yer man will take good care of ya,” He slides in with relative ease, your hips bumping against his.  

The normal constricting feeling in your chest has long since faded, instead, the feeling of acceptance at the fact that you couldn’t get out of this replaced it. 

Your body jolts and rolls with Kita’s harsh thrusts, his panting warm against your neck, “Yer so good fer me, (Your Name), yer gonna bear me healthy sons,” The gummy walls of your pussy knead his cock thoroughly, trying to milk him for everything he’s got, “I knew you were perfect fer the takin’.” 

He forces your knees next to your head, the head of his cock bashing into your cervix painfully. Fortunately, that was enough to set your body off. A gush of cum drenches the both of you, as Kita slams himself inside of you entirely, allowing your womb to be filled to the brim with his fertile cum. 

“Ya never disappoint, Darlin’,” He smooches you on your lax lips, ignoring the fact that your head is practically empty, “Maybe you’ll have twins this time.” 

With that, he starts his hardcore pace one more. 

But, you can’t bring yourself to care. As long as you can drift away from the events unfolding in front of you, 

[harleysarchive]

To Confess Your Love | Charles Leclerc

Fandom: Formula one Warning: Angsty and FLUFFY my god. Not as long as the first one, 3500 words. Pairing: Charles Leclerc x f!reader  Summary: After the dinner party you and Charles haven’t spoken and you just keeping longing for each other. 

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A/N: Part two of To Fall in Love, and thanks again to Screnwriter for the inspiration, enjoy! 

It has been almost a week since the dinner party and you were at the airport waiting for your flight to Portugal. You and Charles haven’t spoken since that evening and you almost wondered if it was just a fling or a one time event that nothing would come from. You frowned slightly when the thought passed by in your mind, but were interrupted by a voice behind you. Lando came down running the aisle with his packback almost sliding down his shoulders.

“Hey (Y/N)!”

“Hey Lando. How have you been? Ready for Portugal?”

“More than ready, I’m so excited. How are you?”

“I’m good.” you said, more like trying to convince yourself that you were.

“Really?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“How about your crush-...” 

Lando didn’t have time to finish the sentence before your hand flew up on his mouth to hush him done.

“Not that loud, you dork.” you whispered loudly at him and he just grinned. “But nothing really, I haven’t heard from him since the dinner. But he is probably busy and I have been busy as well.” 

You tried to hide the heartbreak in your voice, but Lando sensed it and put an arm around, squeezing your shoulders lightly.

“Well, if he hurts you I will take care of him.” 

“Thank you.” you smiled at him. The speaker's voice told you that it was time to board the plane, which made the crowd move slowly forward. Lando waved at George and he soon joined you in the line. You and Lando had your seats next to each other and George was just one the other side of the aisle. He took out his phone to snap a picture of the three of you. Lando hugged you and you gave off an excited smile. George wrote the caption:

Ready to take off to Portugal!! 

Instagram went crazy over the picture and the comments were very kind towards you and some were speculating if you and Lando were dating. 

The plane ride to Portugal went by fast, you had a great time with George and Lando. You listen to some music, which spotify almost exclusively recommended sappy love songs to make your heart even heavier. You watched a movie and then it was time to land. Portugal was quite warm and you put on your sunglasses when you left the airport. A taxi was waiting for the McLaren drivers and you waved off George as he joined the Williams team. 

“So how are you going to deal with, you know…”

“With Charles?” you asked and he nodded. You hadn’t realized how close he was going to be to you now and, frankly, you were a nervous wreck thinking about him.

“I will try my best to ignore him, besides, I’m with the McLaren team. So, it’s not like he’s gonna waltz into our building any time soon.” you joked, but your heart hoped otherwise. 

The taxi pulled up by the racing tracks and you were to walk with Lando around the track to get him ready for tomorrow's practice round. Daniel had texted you that he was on his way, but his plane was a bit late. Your heart jumped a bit when you passed the Ferrari building, but you tried your best not to think about it. You were here to work, not to go after the stupid crush you had on Charles Leclerc. But your heart didn’t want to listen, it wanted him to notice you, it wanted to have that moment from the dinner. The hand touches, staring into those gorgeous hazel eyes. His warm hand on your lower back guiding you, and his hand stroking your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. Almost kissing him. 

Please don’t let it be a dream that has to die, you begged. Please don’t let this be all that comes out of this. 

An arm snaked around your shoulders, which brought you back from your ruminating thoughts of your current heartache. 

“You look sad, something happened?” Daniel asked. 

“Oh, no. It’s nothing.”

“Hey, I know you well enough to know that you are lying. What has happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, (Y/N)-...”

“No, I mean nothing. He hasn’t talked to me since the dinner party.” you said and put your hands against your face. 

Daniel looked at you with a confused look, then he realized you were talking about Charles.

“Have you tried to talk to him?”

“NO.” your eyes widened and head flew up to look at him.

“Whoa, there is nothing wrong with being the first one to reach out, you know.”

“But I don’t want to annoy him.”

“And what if he feels the same about contacting you?” 

It pained Daniel a bit to help you with your crush on Charles, but it pained him even more to see you so sad over it. And from what he saw at the dinner party, the two of you really liked each other and he couldn’t deny you that happiness. I liked you and would always be protective of you, but he wanted you to be happy. Even if it meant dating a rival. He was about to leave you with your thoughts.

“Oh, and if the two of you start dating, don’t you dare leave me and Lando for Ferrari. You will stay with us.” 

You smiled at his silly remark. You gave him a hug before he left and reassured him that you weren’t going anywhere. You rose from the chair to get Lando for your round around the track. As you walked out from the McLaren building you saw people coming from the Ferrari building, Carlos was one of them with his manager. The same was for the AlphaTauri building and you could see Pierre in the crowd. He noticed you and waved at you. You smiled and waved back, but your smile suddenly turned to confusion when you saw that he was walking towards you.

“Hey, (Y/N) right?” 

“Yes, it is. How are you doing Pierre?”

“I’m good, how are you?”

“I’m good too, I was on my way to walk the track with Lando.”

It felt like Pierre wanted to talk to you about something but changed his mind.

“Well, I’m off too. I see you around.”

“Okay. See ya.” you said confused as Pierre walked away from you. 

Odd, you thought but started to walk towards Lando’s room. But when you turned around your whole body froze. Standing by the Ferrari building stood Charles, talking to one of his managers. You hated how your body reacted over seeing him again, that you couldn’t act normal. Like nothing had happened. But it had and you had played the scenes back in your head like a broken record. You had danced to every love song that you could find and felt like you could conquer the world. You had felt the butterflies late into the night, making it hard to sleep.

But now. Seeing him again made you lose all your confidence and your heartache felt even worse than before. You almost prayed that he didn’t notice you so you could sneak away, but deep down you hoped, wished, that he would see you. Notice you. To give you the same attention he had last week. But he and his team had walked the opposite way and he hadn’t looked in your direction once.

But he knew that you were there, he had seen Pierre talking to you, but he didn’t dare to go up to you. But oh, he wanted to.So bad that his body was aching for it and screaming at him to move. But he didn’t. So, instead of acting on his feelings, he avoided you, thinking it would be easier. Pierre had left you because he thought that Charles would come up to you himself and confess his love to you, but he almost got angry by the fact that he didn’t. Why did he leave you there? 

Charles continued to focus on the race and tried his best to ignore his speeding heart every time he passed the McLaren building. Pierre on the other and would not let this go. He hurried up to Charles and stopped him in his tracks.

“What are you doing?”

“Focusing on the race, why?” 

“Oh really, not ignoring a certain someone?” Pierre asked and Charles could hear the annoyance in his voice. And he hated that Pierre was right.

“No, why?” he lied. 

“Really? So, you looking at (Y/N) with those puppy eyes was nothing.”

Charles swallowed hard and tried to look unbothered by Pierre’s remark but his red cheeks and ears betrayed him. 

“Why don’t you act on it, mon ami?”

Pierre had to leave him because he had to walk the track as well. Charles let out a sigh, he knew Pierre was right. He did want to act on his feelings, but he was afraid. The what if’s haunted him, making him nervous, which was unusual for him.  

The track walking had gone well for Lando. He was super focused and it felt like he was going to do a fantastic race here as well. You walked back to the McLaren building, making yourself ready to take Daniel on his round. You looked out the window to see Charles discussing something with Carlos. 

Fuck, you thought, as you had to walk past them to get to Daniel, so you mustered up all the confidence that you could find within yourself and went out. Charles had his back against you so Carlos would be the first to notice you.

“Hello.” you smiled at Carlos as you got closer to them.

“Hello.” he greeted you politely. Charles turned around when he heard your voice.

“Hey.” Charles said, but you didn’t dare to look at him for too long. You could feel your cheeks become flustered just by greeting him. Him on the other hand had his eyes on you the whole time as you walked away. Carlos followed his gaze to see what had gotten his attention.

“Do you know her?”

“Wha-... Who?” Charles said, trying his best to disguise his flustered state. Carlos just laughed at him and patted him on the back. 

You walked up to Daniel. 

“Ready to walk the track?”

“Sure thing.” he said and snaked an arm around your shoulders. You smiled at him and the two of you started walking towards the track. Daniel saw that Charles was looking at you and Daniel brought you closer to him, trying to protect you from his gaze. Charles' expression soured by Daniel’s action, but this made him determined to do something about his feelings. He was not going to let you go.

The walk with Daniel was different from Lando’s. Daniel was more relaxed but nonetheless as focused as Lando. You took notes and asked him different questions, standard procedure. 

“I think that’s it.” you said. 

“Great! It’s soon time for dinner, are you coming?”

“Not yet, I’m going to take a walk before dinner.” you said. You felt the need to be alone for a moment. Daniel nodded and hugged you from the side before he took off. You walked back to the McLaren building and took your bag. The weather was nice and your mind needed to be alone for a while. You got out of the building, stealing a glance at the Ferrari building, which made your heart feel heavy. But you couldn’t dwell on it too much, maybe it wasn’t meant to be. 

Comotion was heard from the Ferrari building, drawing your attention towards the crowd that exited. Charles was in the crowd with his sunglasses. But you couldn’t stop staring at him and how good he looked in that red shirt. As if he felt that someone was looking at him, his head turned towards you and you quickly focused on the ground.

His eyes were still on you and he took off his sunglasses to get a better look at you. You looked up again and met his eyes. Electricity sparkled inside your body when you met his hazel eyes, you almost felt hypnotised by him and felt how your body wanted to go to him. It was drawn to him, like a magnet. He smiled at you, making his damn dimples visible again. You almost couldn’t take it, your heart almost couldn’t take it. But you smiled back. Charles broke off the gaze when someone called for him and you woke up from your trance. You tightened your grip around your bag and started to walk towards the exit. 

Charles saw how you were leaving.

It’s now or never, he thought and tried to catch up with you. You felt a presence behind you and to your surprise - and delight - it was Charles. 

“Hey.” he said.

“Hello.” you greeted him. His eyes locked with yours again and he completely forgot what he was going to do. His mind became completely blank and all he could focus on was you. You were the only one he wanted to focus on. His body wanted to get closer, his hands wanted to touch you and he could feel his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips. His hazel eyes drew you in and you could see all the emotions that were fighting inside of him. 

“How did your track walk go?” you asked. His mind woke up from the sound of your voice.

“It went well, I think I’m ready for tomorrow's practice round.”

“I like the sound of it.” you smirked. He let out a sigh. 

“Are you going somewhere?” 

“Yeah I needed some air and to see something else than the tracks.”

“Well I know a few places, if you want me to join you?” his eyes looked at you hopefully but they also showed a bit of worry. Worry of rejection. Worry that you were mad at him for being such a coward towards you. 

“I would love to.” you beamed. He held out his arm for you. You linked it with his, feeling the electricity spark again when you touched him. 

“Can we stop by the hotel so I can get changed?” you asked. 

“Of course.” 

He had his Ferrari parked nearby and opened the door for you. You thanked him, before he started the car and you drove towards the hotel. The two of you talked about how he felt about the practice round tomorrow and how he was feeling for the race on sunday. He had a steady grip on the steering wheel, but he wanted to lay one hand on top of your knee, but he didn’t dare to. He didn’t know how you were feeling. Finally at the hotel, you said that you would meet at the lobby in 30 minutes. You rushed to your room as fast as the elevator would let you and tried to find something that fitted for your date… Wait, was this a date? 

You couldn’t dwell too much on the idea, but it was still in the back of your head when you walked towards the elevator. Charles was already in the lobby when you exited the elevator.

“Ready to go?” he asked. 

“Absolutely.” you said and he held out his arm for you to take. He guided you to his Ferrari and opened the door for you. You thanked him and he drove you around the area, talking about everything and nothing. You laughed and his jokes and shrieked when he sped up with his car. He gave you a smug smile over how excited you were. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked when he pulled up his car in the small city. 

“Starving.” 

“Good, cause I know a place.” 

The two of you got out of the car and he guided you down the road to a restaurant that looked adorable.

“They have delicious food.” 

“Sounds perfect.” 

The waiter showed you a table that looked over the town. It was beautiful and you looked over at Charles. He was wearing his sunglasses so you couldn’t quite see what he was looking at. But his eyes were on you, admiring how you looked at everything with such awe and wonder. Like everything fascinated you to some degree and he liked that. Something distracted you, making you turn your head away from Charles. He took this as an opportunity to move closer to you. He put his arm on the backrest of your chair and when you turned your attention back to him, you noticed that he was closer. He had his hand on the table and your mind was thinking. This is exactly like the dinner last week… But you didn’t put your hand over his this time. The waiter came back with your drinks and took your orders for dinner. Charles then turned his attention back to you, contemplating if he should touch your shoulder like he had done on the dinner. Then a pang of guilt washed over him when he remembered the dinner. 

“You look beautiful, (Y/N).”

His comment made you jump in surprise and you turned towards him, but you could also feel how you got flustered over it.

“Thank you, so do you. But you always do.” you said with a smirk on your face. Knowing that you said the exact same thing last week and he remembered. He had had that sentence in his head ever since that evening. That you thought he looked good. He cleared his throat.

“Listen, I need to tell you something.”

You wanted to play cool, but that phrase just made your body react in a fight-or-flight mode.

“Yes?”

“About the dinner… I was… I was going too... '' Charles stuttered, feeling his whole face turning flustered. He was probably a deep crimson color at the moment.

“You don’t have to-...” you tried to interrupt but your tongue got stuck when you felt his hand on top of your knee.

“I really wanted to talk to you after that dinner, but...”

“But?”

“But I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” you said dumbfounded. “Of what?”

“That you would reject me.”

Your heart melted over his words. How could this even be real? How could he, Charles Leclerc, be afraid of you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), rejecting him?

“Why would I ever reject you?” you whispered. He took off his sunglasses to get a better look at you. He wanted to be sure that you were honest with him. And nothing about your body language or eyes told him otherwise.

“I could’ve talked to you too, but I was scared that you would think I was annoying for reaching out.”

“Annoying?” he said, confused. “You couldn’t be annoying. If you had reached out to me I would’ve been more than happy to answer.”

“Really?” you beamed.

“Of course. You have already been on my mind since the dinner party.” he confessed, feeling his cheeks burn even more. Your smile couldn’t get bigger, were you hearing this in real life or was this a dream coming true?

Charles' eyes were flickering between your eyes and lips again. He leaned in and this time you had no one to interrupt your moment. The kiss you shared was sweet and full of anticipation. All the electricity that you had felt before sparked like a firework now, the butterflies in your stomach were going crazy and your whole body wanted nothing more than to be close to him. Your hand reached for his chin and his hand was pressing against your back. None of you wanted to break off the kiss, in fear of coming back to reality. But the sound of food coming your way made you break it off, looking at each other with such adoration and love that nothing could come in between the two of you. Both flustered and nervous from the kiss but also full of adrenaline and excitement. Conversation flowed as never before, you talked about the dinner and how you had felt towards Charles and vice versa. 

After dinner Charles wanted to take you to the beach before you headed back to the hotel. The two of you walked hand in hand towards the ocean. You breathed in the salty air and Charles took out his phone to snatch a photo of you. He also started a slow song on spotify.

“What are you doing?” you asked as he grabbed your hand and placed the other on your lower back.

“Dancing with you.” he said, smiling with a tint of rosy cheeks. You just laughed at his sweet actions and danced with him until the sun was setting. He guided you back to the car and drove you to the hotel. When in the lobby you shared one last longing look before you had to be seperated. 

“I’ll see you again?” you asked.

“Of course.” he answered and kissed you knuckles.

“And that’s a promise?”

“That is a promise, ma chérie.”

You smiled and headed for the elevator and the last thing you saw before the door closed was Charles’ flustered face and boyish grin. He was on cloud nine and beyond. He didn’t know when was the last time he had felt this in love and to know that his love was reciprocated.

Je t’aime, (Y/N). Ma chérie. 

A/N: Thank you for reading 🥰

Tagged: @ohmyolympusssy @perfectfantasies22​ @lu-morningstar​

[dilly-oh]

Trashy Romance Novel

    “Naruto, you frigging idiot,” Iruka began hotly, barging into the hospital room, “of all the stupid, brainless things you could have done, this is by far the-”

    He stopped. 

    The person lying in the small bed was definitely not Naruto. It was a grown-ass man with messy gray hair and a faded scar over one eye, the sterile white sheets pulled up over his nose, apparently sound asleep. Iruka stared at him for a long moment, dumbfounded, before it clicked. 

    Oh shit, he thought. This is the wrong room. I'm in the wrong room. I need to hurry up and leave before- 

    The stranger's eyes cracked open and he squinted up at Iruka in confusion.

    “...Who're you?” he croaked out. Iruka managed a rather articulate gurgle of dismay, frozen in sheer mortification. He considered the distance between him and the IV drip, wondering if he could dose the man back to unconsciousness before he could scream or buzz for a nurse. “Are those for me?” the man asked, sitting up in bed to regard the bouquet of flowers in Iruka's arms. He opened his mouth to disagree, but then the sheet slipped off the man's face, and Iruka suddenly thought giving him the flowers might not be such a bad idea. He definitely deserved a thank you after gifting him with...that. He didn't even protest as the alarmingly handsome stranger reached out and took the bundle of flowers, opening the card on top. 

    “You're a dumbass. Love, Iruka.” he read aloud, then looked up at Iruka, batting his eyes. “Aww, babe, you shouldn't have.”

    “Whoa whoa WHOA!” Iruka finally blurted out, his face burning half from embarrassment at the situation, half from the thinly-veiled flirting. “I'm sorry, sir, there's been a mistake. I'm in the wrong room and-”

    “You mean you aren't my doting husband I tragically forgot about due to amnesia and now you have to win back my love by passionately recreating the story of our romantic union?”

    “Excuse me, WHAT-”

    “Sorry, I've been reading trashy romance novels. They're the only books this hospital has. Can't blame me for trying.” The man shrugged, then reluctantly handed back the bouquet. “Who's the lucky person they're actually for? Must be someone real special if you're calling them a dumbass to their face.”

    “My kid brother,” Iruka explained with a sigh. “He's here with a head injury.”

    “Ouch.” The man winced in sympathy. “Poor kid.”

    “Not really. He head-butted a brick wall.” 

    “...May I ask why?”

    “Because his stupid boyfriend walked into it and he had to, and I quote, 'defend his honor'.” Iruka paused, looking the man up and down. Despite being a bit on the pale side, he looked perfectly fine, pun very much intended. It was almost unfair how well he pulled off the hospital gown (although Iruka would much rather be the one pulling it off, wink wink, nudge nudge). “So...what're you in for?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Was...was it the crappy romance novels? Did they rot your brain?”

    “I have an extremely rare, aggressive form of cancer with only two weeks left to live and the only cure is a kiss from my one true love...” The man swooned back onto the pillow and looked expectantly up at Iruka, who rolled his eyes. 

    “Yeah they definitely did-”

    “Alright you got me. Broke my leg.” He pulled the sheet off his lower half, revealing his legs, one of which was wrapped in a cast, propped up on some pillows. Several encouraging words from friends were scrawled on the white surface in marker, one of them a jarring green highlighter. It almost hurt Iruka's eyes to look at it. 

    “...How did you break it?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity. 

    “I heroically threw myself in front of a speeding car in order to save the life of my beloved-” 

    “Okay how did you really break it?”

    “Tripped chasing after my pug at the park,” the man admitted with a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. 

    “...Is the dog okay?” Iruka asked after a long pause.

    The stranger burst out laughing. It was a nice laugh, warm and contagious enough to elicit a chuckle out of Iruka, who was growing more and more intrigued. He couldn't deny the spark of attraction he felt for the other man, spontaneous as it was, and it seemed to be reciprocated. He didn't even know his name, but something about the man made Iruka want to know more about him. Maybe this was like some trashy romance novel, where the two would-be lovers met under unusual circumstances and fell instantly in-

    “Hey, Kakashi,” a man with short brown hair said, suddenly walking into the room, “I brought the next three volumes of your shitty porn series from the hospital library and a couple pairs of clean underwear, so you can stop fucking texting me the specific style and brand you want from home, you're so damn picky-” He stopped dead as he caught sight of Iruka, pausing for a beat, then glanced at the man in the bed, his eyes darting nervously between the two. “Umm...am I...interrupting something?”

    A cold pit of ice yawned open in Iruka's stomach. 

    Oh my GOD. Here he was, borderline flirting with some stranger in a random hospital room, when obviously the man already had a boyfriend and Iruka was just making a complete ass of himself. The flirting had probably been misinterpretation on his part anyway, and if not, the guy was a total dick. Either way, enough was enough. His face aflame with rage and shame, Iruka spun towards the door. 

    “I need to go.”

    “Hey, wait!” Kakashi or whatever his name was called after him. 

    Iruka was already out the door, ignoring the man's cries. Screw him, and screw Naruto, too. He was the cause of this whole mess. Iruka would just text him later. He was probably making out with Sasuke anyway and wouldn't even notice his brother hadn't popped in to visit. Iruka needed out of this hospital NOW. He turned towards the stairs, immediately got lost, and spent the next five minutes growing increasingly flustered as he stormed through the winding hallways, desperately searching for the exit. Why the fuck was the hospital so damn BIG-

    “Hey! Iruka! Hold up!”

    Iruka spun around to see Kakashi speeding towards him in a wheelchair, his boyfriend dutifully pushing him down the hallway at a dead run, IV dangling after him on its cord like a faithful dog. The wheelchair stopped with an audible squeal in front of him.

    “What- where did- did you steal that?!” Iruka hissed in outrage. 

    “Of course not, don't be silly,” Kakashi protested, sounding offended. “The guy it belongs to was asleep in his bed. I'm just borrowing it. I'll return it later. Anyway, Iruka-”

    “Were you flirting with me in there?” Iruka demanded, cutting him off. “Be honest.”

    “Abso-fucking-lutely,” Kakashi said without an ounce of remorse. “So can I have your number or what?” Iruka bristled. 

    “You're a piece of shit! I can't believe you, hitting on me like this right in front of your boyfriend! You have some nerve-”

    “Wait...boyfriend?” Kakashi cocked his head in confusion. “You mean Yams?”

    “The fuck do YAMS have to do with anything-”

    “Hi, that's me,” the short-haired man said, raising a hand. “Yamato, actually. 'Yams' to my friends. Which is what we are. Just...friends.” Iruka scowled at him suspiciously. 

    “Friends? Don't fuck with me. You brought him underwear-”

    “Really close friends,” Yamato reiterated. “Also, roommates. It's awful. I can't get away from him.” Iruka studied him for a moment, but couldn't spot any hint of deception. The man's almond-shaped eyes were surprisingly honest.

    “So you two...aren't dating?” he asked hesitantly. Yamato gave him a horrified look.

    “Dear God, NO. Kakashi is the WORST. He's lazy as hell, procrastinates til the last minute, is perpetually late to everything-”

    “You are a shit wingman-” Kakashi began. 

    “He needs to know what he's getting into,” Yamato snapped at him, then turned back to Iruka. “Seriously, though. You should run while you still can. There's hope for you.”

    “Don't listen to him,” Kakashi cut in. “I'm a fucking catch. Which is exactly why you should let your flaxen hair down, rip your shirt open to reveal your heaving bosom, and throw yourself into my arms-”

    “Will you cut that out?!” Iruka burst out impatiently. “Life is not a trashy romance novel.”

    “You sure about that?” Kakashi said, quirking an eyebrow. “Because I met you in a hospital through total coincidence. After really hitting it off, we had a misunderstanding brought on by miscommunication. Then I chased after you in a fucking wheelchair to declare my undying attraction to you. If that isn't a plot to a trashy romance novel, I don't know what the fuck is. At least it's not raining right now.”

    “I dunno, it might be drizzling,” Yamato said, glancing at a window.

    Iruka paused, considering.

    “I guess it...would make a pretty good book,” he admitted quietly. “The only thing is...I'm not sure what happens next.”

    “That part's for us to write,” Kakashi said, his tone eager. “Only we can complete the story.”

    “Aaaaand I'm going to puke,” Yamato stated. 

    “Sorry, we crossed the line from 'trashy' into 'sappy'.” Kakashi shook his head. “Anyway. Iruka. Please, I'm begging you. Let me sweep you off your feet. Just...give me a chance.”

    “I'll do you one better,” Iruka said after a pause. “I'll give you my number.” Stealing a marker from the nearby nurse's station, he bent and wrote his cell number on Kakashi's cast, then straightened and held out the bouquet. “Here, you can have these. The message works for you too, I guess.”

    Kakashi accepted the flowers with a laugh, taking an appreciative sniff. 

    “And now, I shall ride dramatically off into the sunset,” he said with complete seriousness. “Come, my valiant steed. Awaaaay!”

    “I will push you down the stairs,” Yamato grumbled as he spun the wheelchair around and started back down the hallway. Iruka watched them go with a fond smile on his face, giddy with anticipation. 

    He was eager to read the next few chapters in his life.

    Including the steamy bits. 

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Twelve Prompt: Hospitals)

[transexualpirate]

“Perfect.”

When he first told Dean, he looked so small and helpless, almost guilty, like he expected Dean to just smack him right in the spot for daring to bring it up. Maybe that's what convinced Dean to participate. Or maybe it was the warmth that painted his cheeks when he imagined Cas smiling brightly at his kid and his... and Dean coming together to make something for him. "Father's Day, huh? Sure. Yeah, why not?" Jack smiled as bright as Cas did in his head.

so uhhhh aparently it’s father’s day in the usa? so i wrote a little something for @dadstielweek​ i hope this is okay <3 also thank you @creepyeyesandfrogs​ for the inspiration ur the best!!!

Summary: Dean and Jack have plans for Cas on father’s day. They also have some unresolved issues.

Warnings: Miscommunication, self worth issues, J*hn Winchester, brief mentions of self destructive tendencies (nothing explicit), brief mentions of sexual themes between Dean and Cas (also not explicit), background Saileen.

also, english is not my native language and i mess up sometimes! i’d much appreciate it if you warn me about any possible mistakes.

"Damn, kid, those are some bright colors you used." it was meant as a jab, but Jack only smiled proudly

"Thank you" he replied "I thought I might be using too much yellow, so his name is written in pink. See?"

Dean did. He stared at the card for a few more seconds. It read "Dad: I feel so safe with you! You always took good care of me and you hold me so gently when I can't sleep. Your the best dad ever!" in yellow, with blue doodles of bees and hearts around it, and "I love you, Castiel" in light pink at the bottom. It wasn't a work of art, but he clearly had fun doing it with some old colorful markers he found around the bunker. It was funny to Dean that a 5'8'' man had done it.

Not a man, he corrected himself. A kid. It was easier to see it in days like these.

"Yeah, it's real pretty, alright. But, uh, just a note-" Jack looked up then, his eyes wide. Dean tried not to be offended about how obvious it was that he was waiting for Dean to back down at any moment "You wrote 'your'. As in, 'your bag', 'your drink', 'your pen', you know. It's 'you're'. Like, 'you are'. You're. You're the best dad ever. Okay?"

"Oh." he looked down again. Stayed silent for a few seconds. Dean imagined he was processing this new information. Then he brought up the yellow marker and fixed it. "There. Is that it?"

"Yup. Looks perfect, kid. Cas is gonna love it."

Jack looked like someone had just told him he could eat all the candy he wanted. Dean found himself chuckling softly at him, then turned back to the cake he was decorating. He was pretty anxious himself. He knew he wasn't the best cook out there, and art also wasn't his strong spot, but he figured that writing "Happy Father's Day" wouldn't be so hard. Jack insisted in some skittles on top of it, too, because "Cas loves colorful things and he even ate some of Jack's last week and seemed to like it!". Dean wasn't so sure. He knew Cas had a weird relationship with food. He didn't need it, and hardly found any he genuinely liked. So he might not eat it at all. Or he might eat it just to make Dean feel good.

But there was something else he had in mind. Something he and Jack had picked in town last week. It was sappy and simple and exactly the kind of thing he never though they’d get to experience.

In the kitchen counter, close to the coffee machine, there was a porcelain mug wrapped with a colorful ribbon. And on it was written “BEST DAD EVER”.

Coffee was something that Cas liked. Especially when it had plenty of sugar. The mug was silly, the kind of thing you’d find at the dollar store, but it made Dean smile just thinking about it. Cas could drink from it everyday. 

Jack followed his gaze and stared at it with a smile. Then he turned to Dean, and to the cake, and seemed to understand something.

“You know he’ll love it too, right?” Dean smiled, but it wasn’t natural anymore. He wasn’t surprised when Jack didn’t buy it. “No, I’m serious. He likes chantilly. He likes chocolate cake. He likes skittles. He loves you. Why wouldn’t he like it?”

 It wasn’t planned at all. It just came out. Easy like that.

He likes all those things. He loves you.

Dean sucked in a breath but before he could reply Jack was staring back at the mug. It seemed like he was already thinking about something else. He was like that, sometimes. Too much energy, a bit like an actual child would have, and not enough place to put it. It wasn’t uncommon for him to lose his train of thought mid sentence. It’s like his own brain was a bit too fast for him.

Dean was like that too, sometimes.

He silently wondered if he should scold him for that, like his own father did to him. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Instead, He nudged Jack’s shoulder softly. “Go on. Use plenty of chantilly, ‘kay? You’re right, he likes it.”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He hopped to the fridge and got the rest of the chantilly Dean used for the cake. Gently placed the ribbon a little lower on the mug so he could pour something inside it. Turned to the kitchen cabinet and picked up a spoon, and, before Dean, he raised his index finger.

And the coffee machine started working.

Magically.

“Jack!” Dean hissed. He didn’t want to deal with that right now. “Jack, please. Don’t-”

“It’s okay!” he seemed excited “I got it.” he brought a spoonful of chantilly, and the mug floated and stood right in front of him, gravity be damned. “It’s easier this way, I can just-” he held the chantilly container with one hand, the spoon with the other, and the mug was hovering in front of him. There was no way he couldn’t see how that was dangerous.

“Jack, come on,” Dean stopped decorating the cake and reached for the mug “just put it d-”

“Whoa, guys?”

Too many things happened too fast. Sam walked through the kitchen door, rubbing his eyes lazily. Dean flinched. Hard. He thought Cas had discovered them. Jack also flinched, his eyes wide and scared, like he’d been found doing something he shouldn’t be doing. The coffee machine stopped working. The mug fell.

It shattered on the floor, before them.

“Oh, shit.” Sam said, wise as ever.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no! Come on! Look at it! Goddammit, kid, why did you have to- Come on!”

“Guys? Uh, sorry-” 

“I’m- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I thought- I thought Cas had- I got scared, I’m sorry, Dean, I can fix this, let me just-” he gestured to it, clearly intending to use his powers again, but Dean stopped him, gripping his wrist forcefully with just a little too much strength.

“No. You’ve done enough.” Dean said, his voice cold. He wasn’t sure how exactly things could get worse, but he didn’t want to find out either. Jack struggled to get away from his hold with wobbling lips.

“Dean-” Sam placed a careful hand on his brother’s shoulder “what’s going on?”

“It’s father’s day.” Dean said “We baked a cake and bought Cas a stupid mug but now-” he sighed “the kid used his creepy ass powers and now it’s broken.”

That was like someone had slapped Jack in the face. He finally managed to get his arm free and stepped back like it had burned him. He clutched his wrist, and cried.

“I’m s-sorry...” he managed between sobs.

Dean stared.

He was crying. Outright bawling his eyes out like it was all he knew how to do. If Cas hadn’t slept in Dean’s room (conveniently far away from the kitchen, it was all thought out, that’s definetely the only reason he was there) exhausted from last night’s activities (angels don’t need sleep, per se, but they do benefit from it every now and then if they’re low on grace and already tired from... uh, hunting) he probably would have woken up.

“Oh, shit.” Dean said, for once, somewhat wise.

“I’m sorry, I’m- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I shouldn’t have used th-them. It’s my fault! I didn’t- I didn’t mean-!” he stepped back again, like he was scared anyone would hurt him (or he would hurt anyone).

Dean’s heart dropped to his toes and he wanted to punch himself in the face.

“Shit, kid. No, it’s- Fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have yelled like that. Fuck. Sam, a little help here?”

Sam stared at them for a second, his eyebrows knitted together. 

Dean got mad and went a bit too far. That’s happened before.

It happened a lot with John.

But Dean would always chime in and fix John’s messes for him.

Sam turned around, brought a shovel and a broom and in two swift movements cleaned the remains of the mug while Dean stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

And then he left the kitchen.

“What the fuck. Sam, what the- Sam!” but, obviously, Sam didn’t turn around. It wasn’t that he didnt care. He did. So much. He was scared that if he let them there things would only get worse. But he trusted them- he had to.

Dean and Jack needed to have this conversation by themselves.

Jack. The Jack that was pressed up against the wall crying desperately like there’s no tomorrow. Dean wanted to cry too.

“Kid. Jack. Jack, I’m sorry. Hey, listen to me.” he took a careful step but Jack didn’t even seem to notice. He was clutching his own wrist so hard Dean was scared he was going to break the skin. 

He raised his hand and slowly reached for his wrist. Jack flinched again and looked up to Dean like he was surprised that he was so close. Slowly, like he was trying to approach a wild animal, Dean held the kid’s hand and opened it, forcing him to let go.

“There we go. Careful, kiddo. You were hurting yourself.”

Jack scoffed, or tried to, but as he hadn’t stopped crying yet it sounded a little like a scared cat. “Right. Like I d-don’t deserve it.”

“No.” Dean’s voice was suddenly rough again “No, you don’t. Kid- Jack, look at me.”

Jack didn’t want to, but Dean reached for his chin softly and, carefully, as if the Nephilim was made of glass, he brought his face up.

“I-I ruined it, Dean. I broke the mug.”

“Yeah.” his voice was soft again “You did. But it’s okay. You didn’t do it on purpose. You got scared. You shouldn’t have been so careless, but you didn’t mean to do it. I know you didn’t. Okay? You just have to be more careful next time. It’s fine. You’re fine, okay? I’m... I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Jack stared at him. His lips were slightly parted and his face was still tear stained. Dean ran his thumbs through his cheekbones, drying his tears softly. Jack let him.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have... Used them. My- my creepy powers.”

“No, Jack, it’s okay. Those powers, they’re not creepy, okay? They’ve helped so many people before. They’ve saved us. And they’re a part of you, and you’re not creepy, okay? You’re not. I’m sorry I said that. I was wrong. And I shouldn’t have- Shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack looked like he was waiting for the punchline. He studied Dean’s face, and eventually he stuttered out “It’s... It’s okay, Dean.”

“We both fucked up, huh?” he chuckled softly, and Jack did so too.

“Yeah. I guess- I guess we did.”

“Well, I’m the adult. I can’t let this happen again. I’m not going to. Okay? I’ll be more careful too. I just- I lost it, Jack. I’m so, so sorry. I hope you know how wrong I was. You’re not bad, Jack. You didn’t do this on purpose. You were just trying to be faster. It’s okay. You made a small mistake. It’s no biggie. I need to keep it cool next time, okay?”

“No! No, there won’t be a next time, Dean. I’ll be more careful, I promise!”

Dean smiled. “I know, Jack, I know you will. But you’re four. You’re gonna make silly mistakes like this. Your job is to try a little more everyday. Okay?”

Jack nodded enthusiastically. “I will. I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will, little guy. I will, too, okay?”

“Okay.” 

“I promise, too.” Jack smiled at that. Dean swept his hair from his face, leaned in and kissed the kid’s forehead. He beamed. And then he stopped. Dean glanced at his face.

“But, Dean... It’s, it’s broken, now. We only have the cake and the card.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll love them, Jack.”

“Yeah, but... It’s... It’s Cas, Dean. He deserves better.”

Dean contemplated for a second. And then he smiled. Jack tilted his head in a very Cas-like fashion.

“I have an idea.”

Cas turned around in Dean’s bed, hoping to find the man laying next to him. He didn’t. 

It wasn’t unnexpected, you see, Dean woke up early everyday. Cas wasn’t used to sleeping, but when he did, he slept in late. He only needs his four hours after all. But honestly, Cas couldn’t help but wonder if there was some shame in there.

He glanced around the room and decided it would be best if he got dressed. He got up, groaning softly, then retrieved his underwear and pants from Dean’s desk. His shirt was on the ground. Tie and trenchcoat were perched on a chair. His cellphone was on his pocket. He thought about going out, maybe make Jack some breakfast, but it was still early and the kid was probably asleep. So he decided to go back to bed (without his trenchcoat, mind you, not even he is that formal).

Immediately as he laid down there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” he slurred out, still sleepy.

Whoever was on the other side hesitated. “Are you... Decent?”

Cas couldn’t stop his smile. “Yeah, Dean, I’m decent.”

“No, like... Jack- Jack is here, Cas.”

There was a laugh on the other side. “Dude?” Sam whispered. Cas decided to pretend he didn’t hear him.

“Come in, Dean. Unless you want me to put on my shoes as well.”

The door opened and the first thing Cas noticed is that Dean’s whole face was red as a tomato. The second thing was that he was holding a cake covered in chantilly and skittles and the third is that he was followed by Jack and Sam.

Oh, no, did he forget anyone’s birthday?

But they didn’t sing. Instead, Jack jumped on the bed, holding something colorful. Sam was right behind him, holding a wooden platform and placing it on the bed. It was like a support so nothing would fall. Dean put the cake on the platform and Jack placed something too.

Cas blinked.

“Uh, wh-what’s... Did I... Miss something?”

“It’s Father’s Day!!” Jack beamed. Cas couldn’t help but mirror his smile. But he was still a bit confused.

“O-okay, so...?” Jack leaped at him, involving him in a hug.

“Happy Father’s Day, dad!”

Oh. Oh! “Jack!”

“Kid’s super excited. It’s your first Father’s day without an apocalypse, after all. So, we... Yeah. We did something.” Dean tried to explain. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. Cas stared at him like he’d personally brought him the moon.

“They did something for you, too, Cas. Look!” Sam pointed at the colorful package at the improvised table. He noticed, then, that it wasn’t a package. 

It was a mug involved by a colorful ribbon. The one he usually used. It used to be white and bland. But now, there was a blue tie doodled on it, and in Dean’s unmistakable handwriting it was written “WORLD’S BEST DAD”. It was filled with coffee and chantilly, just the way he likes it.

Cas held it in his hands and couldn’t stop the tears flooding his face. 

For a second, Jack panicked. His eyes widened and he looked between Cas and Dean questioningly. Dean reached a hand to his shoulder and whispered “I think he likes it, Champ.”

“But- But he’s crying?”

Cas sniffed loudly, then. He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t expect it. World’s best dad, him? “They’re... T-they’re tears of joy, Jack.”

Sam giggled sofly. He brought his cellphone up and started recording. He was happy he did, because just at that moment, Dean leaned down and kissed him wholeheartedly.

Like, on the lips. Full on romantic kiss. The type they show on TV. 

If Jack was surprised, he didn’t show it. But he was happy, that was clear. Sam, however, cheered them on. “Oh, fucking finally!”

Dean showed the camera his middle finger. Jack tilted his head again, and Sam zoomed in on him, mumbling something about “like father, like son”. When they broke apart, their pupils blown and panting softly, Dean cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. Cas was at loss for words.

Jack seemed to remember something, then, and shoved his card on Cas’ face with no mercy. “Oh, oh! I also made a card! And Dean baked the cake! We painted the mug together. He taught me how to draw a tie. Do you like it?” 

“Liked it? Jack, I love it. Look at it! You drew a bee, too! It’s so pretty.” he sighed contented while Dean tried to steal Sam’s phone only to find he had already sent the video to Eileen. Jack stared at him with childlike wonder, and Cas was almost scared for a moment because of how happy he was. But it was okay. He was allowed to be happy. He deserved it. “I love it. Thank you, so much. All of you. It’s perfect- you’re perfect.” he turned to Dean, with Sam’s hand on his shoulder as he cooed childishly. “I love you, Dean.” And then he turned to Jack, the kid smiling in blissful, childish naivety. “And I love you, son.”

“See?” Dean grinned, nudging Jack playfully “I told you he’d love it.”

[annicaax]

You're The Only one

Ikevamp Fanfic. by Me.

Lecomte X Reader.

Word count: 1167

Genre: Romance/Fluff

Rating: All

Written in MC/your POV. Just like in the game. Hope ya like.

----

 I bring the specially made cinnamon pancakes to the dining table. Sebastian carries the other dishes and as we serve breakfast I'm surprised by how we have all started out without le Comte. 

I know he's gone on a short trip out of Paris for a night. I know but still I imagine his smile, and grace and nearly forget that I'm pushing some dozen pancakes into Arthur's plate.

"Good gracious! Food, why, a great way to get a bloke to swoon, eh?"

I barely notice him smirk, stunned as he takes my hand lifting it up to his face.

Oh. I can pull my hand back. I'm sure that's what I'd have done but a larger hand envelops mine and pulls it away from Arthur's lips!!

This touch-- these fingers--- Comte!!

I turn my head and there's my beloved, the charismatic smile still in place, he's quite the imposing figure standing next to me.

“Arthur-- even if you must jest, you should learn not to wander anywhere near my lady. ma cherie is mine. Mine and mine alone…”

I blush. It's not everyday that he's this direct. My embarrassment comes in sync with a couple of wolf whistles. 

"Way to go, hondje! Never thought the day would be here when I'd hear such sappy love declarations from comte, let alone witness his possessive streak,” Theo says with a huge grin

“I think it's cute,” says Vincent in an angelic tone. 

Isaac stays embarrassed, biting into his apple. I'm glad these are the only ones near the table.

“Comte beat me to it,” Arthur now says with a dramatic sigh, letting Sebas destack his plate.He adds, with a pout, “I’m capable of eating more pancakes, though…”

“You're not getting any!” Theo narrows his eyes at Arthur, “also Sebas... Pass me the syrup. Though I’ve just witnessed a sickening sweet love act, I do need some syrup on my pancakes.”

Oh my! Theo never holds back, does he? And Sebas is something. His face is still stoic. But I do say there's a hint of a smile on his face. I know that. I can detect that after working alongside him for this long. 

And ah, my cheeks warmup, noticing that le Comte is next to me and his hand is still resting on mine. I try to pull away, feeling Theo's and everyone's eyes on me. But le Comte tightens his hold on me. 

With a swift tug, he pulls me to him. And my world shrinks and spins around me.

In the next instant we find ourselves in the garden.

Whoa! I can't believe he'd use his powers to get away from some healthy dose of teasing. Oh, well, I wanted to get away too...but how long can I run? How will I run? That’s our home… and those are our friends!

But I’m still happy! All of a sudden, I feel giddy, realizing that I'm with my beloved after so long. 

“I can't believe... Was that shadow warping? When did you come? Also, that was my first time experiencing that, so it's awesome!”

I grin at Saint Germain, but he only looks away with a sigh.

“Ma Cherie, there's a lot I can do… a lot that you don’t know…”

I want to ask him to show me… show me everything he is, but he goes on to talk.

“I can't show you everything, but you saw something just now. This is my first time... in four hundred years... I can't believe I've turned into this… someone who's desperately hopelessly in love…”

I’m speechless. My heart beats wildly out of joy, but he is hell bent on giving me more and more happiness.

“But I believe I'm only like this because it's you, ma cherie... You're my only one.... even if it were to take a thousand more years, I'm sure this is how things are destined to be… you and me… together like this.”

What more can I say? I love, love my Comte.

I smile at him overcome with love. I barely stop myself from hugging him. I want to say something, anything, but words fail me, and he takes this opening, speaking again.

“So you better take responsibility for what you did, ma Cherie…”

The confident gentleman, the hedonistic vampire is back again. Saint Germain takes my hand, dips elegantly and goes down on one knee. He pulls out something from his pocket. 

My heart thunders! Is this what I think it is… A… a proposal?

No. But instead what I see is a glittering watch made out of gold and pearls, with an attached charm bracelet. It's so beautiful.... I'm in awe.

This isn’t a ring. There’s time for that, but this gift is equally lovely. I do love when he pampers me. I smile and accept my gift, watching him put it on me.

“Thank you."

I whisper my thanks, looking him in the eye.

“Thanks again, but I'm very much capable of protecting myself…”

I remind him just in case, and he presses his lips to my knuckles. 

“I know,” he smiles ruefully, golden eyes narrowing, glittering bangs of gold cascading down in his forehead. He looks gorgeous in the sunlight. “...but I couldn't stop. I'm a man who loves you, ma Cherie.”

This man, he knows how to make me go weak in the knees. I'm flattered but I also want to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Mon Cher…” I lean down so I can whisper the words into his ear, “I'm a woman who loves you too…”

I kiss his forehead and emphasize my words. “Forever until eternity.”

Le Comte freezes. 

“What brought this on…”

He murmurs, but I kiss his cheek before he can recover.

“What brought this on? Well, maybe the answer is love... I love you ... I missed you…”

This time I press a kiss to his lips 

“Mmm--”

Still knelt before me, he makes a noise. He’s like a prince out of a fairytale! My only prince! Ah, and I know it's my time to get away. My cheeks heating up, I attempt to pull away. But my hand is still in his--

“I remember I have to water the flowers.”

I try to make my escape, but he tightens his hold on my hand.

Rising up to his feet, he pulls me so I fall against his chest.

“Think you can water the plants after you've tempted me, ma cherie?”

Comte... The mischievous glint in your eyes, oh my God, what have I gotten myself into... 

I wonder this, and his lips touch mine. I close my eyes and I feel myself fade away-

Together... We shadow warp... To…

(Now it's your turn to imagine where Comte took you)

***

There. I'm a lazy ass writer but I've been writing fanfiction since I’m a kid, and I’ve already graduated. Lol. Wrote something after so long. I know it's a fluffy tidbit. I don't know if ya guys like it but as someone who's waiting for his English route (spoiler free) this is what came to my mind. I hope y'all liked it. Comments are welcome. Reblog And Heart it if you like. Thank you! I do hope to write more in future. If ya guys want it/like it.

[noctisfishing]

That’s All He Wrote

Rating: T

Pairing: Sorato

Summary:  An admirer makes himself known to Sora when she finds a note in her locker one day. As she takes her two best friends along to help solve this mystery, she hopes for one of them to notice that she has already solved it.

Prompts: 

- music to my ears -  something that is pleasant or gratifying to hear or discover. In today’s prompt, incorporate the phrase. (200 words) [ Write Your Melody Prompts by me! ]

&

- “I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly.” - You've Got Mail [ Famous Movie & TV Romantic Quotes Prompts by @renchan7 ]

Notes: Those quotes made me crave something fluffy and sappy, AND I wanted to combine a prompt from my own list. Both of these prompts were chosen randomly, and I got a combo to send my heart a-flutter.

Also this one-shot ended up being more than 10x my suggested wordcount (basically, not 200 words but upwards of 2.8K lol) so hope you enjoy. :D

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Sora opened her locker at the end of school one day, she noticed from the corner of her eye that something fell out of it.

"Oh - Sora, you dropped something," said Taichi, who bent down to pick it up just as she turned to do it herself.

She observed it with him as he held it between his fingers. A small piece of lined paper, folded a few times.

"Huh," she said. Seeing the quizzical stare in his eyes told her that Taichi was just as curious as she was. She took the piece of paper from his hand and unfolded it.

As she read the words on the note, she felt as though her heart stopped.

"Ah, well, look what we have here!" Taichi began. "You've got a secret admi-"

"Shh!" she hissed at him. "Don't talk so loud!" She looked around the locker room, paranoid that other students caught Taichi's words, but saw that no one else was paying attention. That didn't stop the heat flushing on her cheeks. "Do you know who did this?!" was her next adamant question.

Taichi leaned back a little, as though he was intimidated. "N-no, I don't! I'm just as clueless as you are!"

And Sora believed him.

But not completely. She shut her locker and walked away, processing what she had just witnessed. Taichi followed right behind her.

"Wait up, Sora!"

Sora walked hurriedly through the hallway, hearing a few students greet her but she was too focused on her own thoughts to answer. It wasn't until she heard her name once more when she realized that she was fast approaching someone and she was just about to collide.

"Whoa!" he said with his palms up.

Sora gasped as she halted, merely inches away from crashing into Yamato.

"Hey, Yamato!" she said with her voice unnaturally higher. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"Deep thinking and power walking are not a good mix," Yamato replied, looking as though he hid his laughter behind his smile.

"Sora! Geez." Taichi appeared in a huff. "That note really got you, didn't it?"

"A note?" Yamato asked.

If her cheeks were pink, Sora wondered if the burn made them redder. She was suddenly hesitant to scold Taichi for mentioning it so freely.

"I found a note in my locker just now."

"Oh…" Yamato kept his eyes on Sora. "Should we be concerned?"

"What do you mean?" Taichi asked.

"Was it a good note, or a bad one?"

"I think that depends on how Sora feels about it."

Sora's voice seemed to be caught in her throat just as the two boys turned to face her.

"It's… none of your business." Sora turned away from them.

Taichi let out a sigh. "We're not going to get an answer from her."

"Maybe it's something she wants to figure out on her own," said Yamato. "If we need to be concerned, she'll probably tell us somehow."

The three of them walked to the front gate together, where they all would go their separate ways. Taichi was the first to walk ahead.

"Are you going to be okay?" Yamato asked.

"I think I will be," Sora replied. She smiled at him as she noticed his concern, then she remembered his question from earlier about the note. "You don't have to worry about it, Yamato. If anything, I thought it was a good note."

When they said their goodbyes and headed in different directions, Sora turned around to look back at Yamato. The way he stared at her and smiled at her comment made her wonder how much of a concern it all truly was to him.

With the note still in her hand, Sora set off towards her way home, smiling to herself.

~*~*~*~*~*~

On the next day, Sora had invited Taichi to help her find the mystery admirer after school. With eagerness, he said yes without another thought.

"Does this mean you've counted me out as your secret admirer?" he asked.

"I think you'd rather show up to my locker with flowers," she replied. "Besides, I could actually read the handwriting compared to your squiggles."

"Huh. Fair points. Want me to ask around? I could get the soccer club to investigate."

Sora shot Taichi a look. "I really don't want this to be broadcasted to the whole school, Taichi. I'm thinking we should ask our friends first."

Sora had also invited Yamato later in the school day, despite the fact that it was a day in the week that he usually spent time with his band. Somehow, she knew he would still come along with her and Taichi.

"I'm sure Yamato would've written out song lyrics if it was him," Taichi wondered aloud as the three of them walked out of school together.

"I'm sure that I wouldn't," Yamato retorted.

Sora agreed. "I'm sure you would make Yamato write out song lyrics for your note if you did it, Taichi," she added.

"You're probably right." Yamato laughed as Taichi frowned.

Sora had considered herself lucky that both Taichi and Yamato followed her pursuit without any objections. Their first stop was a visit to Takeru, whose eyes lit up the moment he saw Yamato.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked Mimi first," said Takeru after Sora filled him in.

"Well," Sora said, holding her hands together. "I texted her, and she said she'd ask around. She hasn't gotten back to me yet."

"Hmm, well, I could totally make a wild guess! ...But it might be completely wrong." Takeru added, and Sora took notice of the shift in tone between his two sentences before he smiled cheerfully. "I'll make some tea and bring out the snacks!"

Takeru headed for the kitchen and Yamato followed behind him.

"It's been a while since we've seen Takeru, huh?" Taichi asked Sora.

"Yeah, it has," she replied.

Sora looked toward the kitchen where she caught Yamato's grimace towards Takeru, who must have been teasing him from the look of his cheeky smile. When they both returned to Taichi and Sora at the table, they brought some cookies and a tray with cups and a pot of white orange blossom tea, which Sora knew to be Yamato's favorite.

After making a quick stop to the convenience store, their next visit was to Jou's apartment, and Jou quirked his brow in confusion at the three of them when he answered his door.

"Brought you some pick-me-ups for studying!" Sora said with a smile and raising the bag of goodies in front of her.

"Oh…" said Jou with a tinge of exasperation. "Well, come in. You can drop the snacks on the table."

"Got an exam coming up, Jou?" Yamato asked.

"There's always an exam coming up. I don't know how long I've been studying..."

Sora watched Jou sigh and run his hand through his hair that had been longer than when she saw him last. His eyes had dark circles underneath. In normal cases, he would be fretting about tomorrow's deadline and scolding one of them as a result of his anxiety.

She turned to the other two and exchanged looks of worry.

"Hey, Jou, why don't I make you some tea?" Sora asked.

"I'm good. I've had so much already but I can't seem to stay awake."

"Then, why don't we walk this way." Sora took Jou by his shoulders and led him to his room. "When's your next exam?"

"It's in a few days, but I need all the study time I can get."

They reached his room, and Sora saw his desk cluttered with loose papers and an open textbook.

"You've studied enough for now." Sora sat him on his bed.

"I need… to study…"

At the touch of her shoulder, Sora turned and saw Yamato holding the textbook in front of her. Sharing a look with him, she understood and took the book to give to Jou, just as she got him to lay down in his bed.

"You can study while laying down, right?" Sora asked. "It's more relaxing that way."

Jou didn't protest. He lay against his pillow with the open book next to him, and it only took a few moments before he drifted off to sleep.

Their final visit was to Koushiro, whom they also brought snacks and his favorite bottled tea. His greeting was chipper but he had a distant look in his eyes, and when he let the three of them into his apartment, he led them to his room, where he returned to his computer chair, grabbed his mouse and began to click.

"What are you working on, Kou?" Yamato asked, hovering over Koushiro's shoulder.

Sora and Taichi hovered at his other side, but Sora couldn't make sense of what Koushiro was telling Yamato, who seemed to catch on to every word. She still watched and listened out of politeness, but caught wind of Koushiro's stomach growling which caused him to stop talking.

"Well, we brought snacks!" Sora said with a grin.

"Ooh, I needed a break, anyway," Koushiro replied. He thanked Sora for the food and tea, and he swiveled his chair away from the computer to continue chatting with the three of them. The longer their conversations went on, the more Sora noticed Koushiro's eyes gradually appearing less distant.

The sky was darkening as they left Koushiro's apartment and headed home.

"Well, we didn't find out who your secret admirer was after all that," Taichi quipped. "Has Mimi gotten back to you, Sora?"

"Not yet."

"We didn't even get to ask Jou or Koushiro about it."

Sora didn't respond, and turned to glance at Yamato, who was looking ahead. She knew that Taichi was following along and wouldn't press any further for questions, but she wondered what Yamato had been thinking. When she looked ahead, she could tell that Yamato was looking back.

After they said goodnight to Taichi at his building, Yamato turned to her.

"I can walk you home, if you want," he said.

"Aren't you already late for your band's rehearsal?" she asked.

"They can start practice without me."

Sora broke her gaze from his eyes to keep him from seeing her blush. She started walking a few steps ahead of him, and she went over the whole day in her head, including the plan she devised and knowing exactly how it would go. How surprising it was for everything to fall into place, even until that moment.

And at that moment, she couldn't help but feel nervous.

"It's a shame we didn't solve the mystery, isn't it?" Sora asked Yamato behind her.

"You don't seem too sad about it," he said.

"You'd think I would be. We spent a whole afternoon with three guys who didn't give us any clues."

"That's because they're the last three you would expect to have the answers to something like this."

Sora stopped walking, and her lips curled into a smile. Maybe he caught on to her plan, after all.

"I'm guessing you want to know why?" she asked.

"That would be my first question," he replied.

She continued to walk, knowing that he would continue following behind her. "Taichi's been complaining to us about how Koushiro never wants to hang out, and you've always mentioned whatever it was he likes to work on. I'm sure we'd all agree he needed a reminder of what other humans looked like."

Yamato chuckled. "Yeah. And what about Jou?"

"The other day, when Teacher mentioned exams, you told me you wondered how Jou was doing, and we all know how intense he can get when he studies."

Sora slowed to a stop and turned to face Yamato this time.

"And you always talk about how you never get to see Takeru, since you've been so busy with school work and your band."

A flash in his eyes told Sora that the dots were connecting.

"Are you saying that you planned all of this out for me?"

"I've been wanting to check in on them anyway, but I knew you've been wanting to see them, too. Especially Takeru."

Yamato stared at her with surprise. Then, he let out a soft laugh, walking a few steps closer to her. "I shouldn't be surprised. This was supposed to be for you. But you made it all about our friends. And, about me…"

Sora noticed Yamato look to the side as his face turned a tinge of pink, which forced a giggle out of her.

"...I shouldn't be surprised that Taichi didn't pick up on anything, either," Yamato added with a mutter. ""But, that brings me to my second question. Did any of this relate to solving your mystery at all?"

"I think we both know the answer to that, Yamato. I've already solved it."

Yamato's eyes returned to Sora's gaze, and her heart seemed to skip a beat.

"Tell me what you know," he said.

"Okay." Sora took a deep breath and exhaled. It was now or never. "Do you remember when Taichi seemed to think that song lyrics would give it away? Well… I think I know better."

Sora reached into her pocket and took out the folded note, held between her thumb and forefinger.

"This note was only three words," she continued, walking closer to Yamato. "There's a lot that goes into a note like this. It's hard to convey how someone feels when there are a lot of emotions. A few lines of a song might capture those emotions and reach another's heart, but why write a verse when three short words express more than enough?"

She lowered her hand, fixing her eyes on his as he watched and listened to her intently. She didn't expect him to respond; still, her heartbeat was quickening.

"I lied about waiting to hear from Mimi, by the way. You really can't get past her. And, I'm pretty sure Takeru would have been right on the money if someone didn't give him a look of death…"

Yamato's furtive glance to the side made Sora hopeful, and she kept going. "Mimi said his name, and Takeru was about to say it - the one person I've been meaning to ask, but I already know it's him. At least… 50% sure."

That was when Yamato scrunched his brows. "Why are you only half sure?"

"There's half of me that feels like I've known him for a long time. I know that when he wants something, he'll go for it. But he's going to have his doubts so he won't face it straight on. He won't be too melodramatic by hinting at it in a song, so he'll settle for sneaking a message into her locker."

"And what about the other half?"

Sora lowered her head, her eyes toward the ground.

"I have my own doubts. It almost seems too good to be true. How his note to me tells me exactly how I feel for him. I'd feel like a fool if I asked him about the words on the note and found out that it wasn't him, after all."

"So... why don't you ask me, Sora?"

A touch of his finger lifted her chin to meet his eyes. His blue eyes that glistened as he searched hers while he waited for her to ask him.

"What did you write to me, Yamato?" she asked in a whisper, her heart pounding in her chest.

And there, after a moment's pause, his gaze transfixed, he uttered the words that she had been wanting to hear:

"I love you."

Watching his lips move, hearing him say those words was music to her ears. She stared back at him with wonder.

"So it was you, after all." Sora suddenly stopped caring about the heat on her cheeks as her words cemented her realization. The light sting of tears crept onto her lids as she felt his hands hold her cheeks gently. "I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly."

She laughed, overjoyed and relieved that it was him. When he laughed along with her, she could tell felt the exact same way, knowing that his secret was out.

"Does this take away the 50%?" Yamato asked, looking back in adoration and brushing his thumb on her cheek.

"It does," she said as she placed her hand on his.

"I know you mentioned it… but I wanna hear you say it, too, Sora."

The note was gone from Sora's hands. She must have let it slip for the light evening breeze to carry it away. Just three words - that's all he wrote, but those words were all she wanted to hear, and at that moment, they were all she wanted to say.

"I love you, too," she said, her hand reaching Yamato's cheek. Then, in that moment, she caught the glint of tears on his eyes and the warm smile on his lips before he leaned forward, pulling her closer until their lips finally met for a kiss.

[dcforts]

[bobby’s house]

Dean wakes up from his nap on Bobby’s couch.

There’s a wet stain on the cushion near where his mouth was but he cannot be arsed to be embarrassed about it. It was a good nap.

It seems like there’s only Bobby in the room anyway. He is at his desk, looking busy as he writes something down. Dean cannot see what it is from his point of view.

“Where’s Sam?” he asks, his voice hoarse, sitting up.

“Supply run.” Bobby says without looking up.

“Cas?”

“Who knows,” he says, then adds “Said he’ll be back.”

Dean sighs and gets up. It’s mid-afternoon, not yet sundown, judging from the light coming from outside. He stretches his arms over his head. “Man, I needed that,” he says. “How long was I out?”

“Half an hour.”

Dean makes a content sound and walks to the table to peek at what got Bobby so busy. Leaning against the side of the desk, he sees a giant tome that looks like some kind of register. “Whatcha writing?”

“Inventory” Bobby mumbles.

Dean makes a bored expression that Bobby doesn’t see because he still hasn’t looked up. “Why do you even bother with that?” he makes a gesture towards the room. “I mean, don’t you already know what you got?”

Bobby puts down his pen and looks up at him, finally, looking not at all pleased with the continued interruptions.

“It’s not for me.”

“Then for who?”

Bobby presses his lips together.

“Well, one day I’m gonna kick the bucket son, and somebody else is gonna get to deal with all this” he says, looking pointedly at Dean.

There’s a moment of silence and then something clicks in Dean’s mind.

“Who? Me?”

Bobby rolls his eyes and sighs loudly. “Tell me, who else I got? Who else has been drooling all over my couch since he was six, broke at least five of my plates and put a bullet in my ceiling when he was twelve?” he says surly, casting his gaze down once again, as if the admission embarrasses him.

Dean feels constricted in his own skin all of the sudden, like his point of view is shifting but he can’t seem to focus on the new one.

He walks to the middle of the room and looks around.

“You are leaving all this to me?”

“It’s a bunch of crap, boy, don’t get too sappy about it” Bobby says gruffly, but he doesn’t look up.

Dean knows that Bobby cares about his bunch of crap, he knows it very well. It’s his whole life, years of research, blood, work and sacrifices. Of course, it makes sense that he would have to leave it to somebody at some point, but it’s still weird that it’s gonna be him the one to get it.

Dean looks around the cluttered room, trying to look at it as if for the first time. The books, the pictures in the frames, the furniture. Dean fixes his gaze on the walls. These walls, he thinks, he’s leaving me these walls. He looks out of the window, towards the garage, at the pile of rusted car parts, the tools – everything is covered in a thin veil of dirt and dust. His chest compresses. No one has ever left him anything.

Sure, his father left him the Impala but he never gave him any Mufasa kind of speech over it. And the jacket, John had just forgotten it in the backseat one day, Dean had shrugged it on without thinking during a cold night and he’d never asked for it back.

But this is different. This is a whole house. A scrap yard. It’s hard to imagine this place without Bobby. But to imagine it as his? Impossible.

“And what, you – you wrote a last will or something?”

“Or something” Bobby mumbles as he tries to focus on his work again.

Dean doesn’t stop talking though.

“But - what should I do with it?” he asks and Bobby sighs loudly again, like he’d thought the conversation was over and he really has no patience for more of Dean’s babbling. “I can’t live in Sioux Falls, Bobby. I’m a hunter.”

“And what am I, a baker?”

“Yeah but – I’m always moving around. I can’t have a house. What do you expect me to do? Do my nine-to-five and come back in time for dinner?”

“Do what you want.” Bobby shrugs. “But ye ain’t gonna get any younger, that’s for sure. At least you’ll have a place one day.”

Dean doesn’t say anything to that.

He belongs on the road, he knows that much. He belongs on the highways, in the dark seedy places behind gas stations, under the light of a blinking motel sign. His foot belongs on a pedal not propped on a coffee table. He belongs with his Baby, with crumpled papers of greasy hamburgers on the passenger seat. He could never do bills and house repairs. That’s not him. What is Bobby thinking? He should give it to someone who actually gives a shit about keeping the garage, having a bunch of kids running around, playing nice with the neighbours. Dean can’t do that. Who does Bobby think he is?

“Don’t sweat it, boy. You can live here or you can rent it out or you can sell it for all I care. Ain’t gonna be around to see it, remember?”

He says that but Dean hears something else in his voice. Bobby cares about it, no matter how many times he calls it a shithole. He cares about the mismatched mugs in the cabinets and the wobbly chairs and the loud pipes of the downstairs bathroom.

He can’t imagine this place without Bobby but not even with some stranger in it. Somebody who would cover the wards with cheap ass wallpaper and think that the previous owner was a freak, who would turn the panic room in a wine cellar or whatever. Somebody who wouldn’t know shit about what this place has seen and who’s lived in it.

Dean sits on the couch slightly bothered by the conversation and the thought that Bobby one day will be gone and he is still lost in himself when a swoosh informs them that Cas is back. He appears in the room, looking rumpled and windswept like always. It’s a familiar and endearing sight and Dean fights the urge to stand up and walk over to him for no reason.

Cas’ boots are muddy and they leave a trace on the carpet and Bobby, from his place behind the desk, scolds him. Dean looks at Cas’ stony face as he listens to Bobby calling him boy and going off about his carpet and imagines giving a crap about that one day; imagines himself giving crap to Cas about that one day, and having Cas looking at him like that.

Something like:

Hearing the swoosh from the kitchen and before even seeing him, warning him that he’d better take his shoes off if he values his life. And Cas walking into the kitchen in his socks and Dean telling him about his work at the garage, this stubborn Buick and that wonky cabinet he’s trying to repair and Cas telling him about Heaven and hovering around him as he gets under the hood of a car or gets something from the fridge.

He imagines the living room at night, lightened only by the desk lamps, laughing with Sam at a movie playing on the shitty tv that he doesn’t have the heart to get rid of because it reminds him of watching soap operas with Bobby. He imagines putting on his favourite albums on his record player – cause of course he’d have a record player and a shit ton of vinyls all over the place – and sitting on the couch next to Cas to tell him all about the best drummers of the 70s and getting a dog and having Sam over all the time in a room that it’s his own and saying things like “Yeah, I know, we need to get that heater fixed before winter” and –

Whoa, whoa – hang on, what kind of messed up fantasy is that? Playing house? What is he, like, a 50’s housewife?

It couldn’t ever be like that. Dean’s not –

And there’s the hunting. He wouldn’t give that up.

He would sit at Bobby’s desk with a phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear talking to another young hunter, saying the same things Bobby always says to him over the phone – things like “Be careful, kid” and “Don’t get yourself killed.”

Yeah, that’s better. That’s more like him.

He imagines himself pulling in in front of the house in the middle of the night after a hunt, turning the keys in the lock and coming in an empty house, walking around without turning on the lights, knowing exactly where things are in the dark because it would be his home, with his stuff, and he would know where they are, and what they are, cause he would have put them there. He tries to imagine what it would be like to come through the door and feel relieved to be home.

And maybe someone could come in after a few moments, locking the front door, checking the wards, dropping the duffle bag with the weapons in the hall.

Could be Sam.

Moaning about his neck hurting from sleeping at a weird angle during the journey, one of his long arms stretching out in the dark to grab a beer that Dean would be handing him. Saying things like “Tomorrow wake me up only when you make breakfast” and “I’m dropping my clothes in the washing machine.”

Or it could be Cas.

Partially illuminated by the street lights outside, walking over to where Dean would be, leaning against the doorframe between the living room and the kitchen. No other sound. No rush, no one to answer to. Nothing to run away from. Nowhere to run to. No one watching or interrupting.

Dean would lick his lips and watch him with no shame and Cas would press him against the doorframe, knowing that he is welcome to do so. Knowing that Dean has been waiting for that moment for the whole journey back. Dean would be pliant and his movements languorous and he would feel the solid weight of Cas’ body against his and he would like that.

He would tug at the lapels of his trench coat and wrap his arms around his neck and Cas would kiss him and –

Bobby drops something in the kitchen and it falls on the floor with a loud crash and a lot of swearing.

Dean snaps out of his daydream with an sharp intake of breath.

He is sitting on the couch and it’s daytime and Cas is standing on the other side of the room, leaning against the little table.

He’s got his arms crossed and he is staring at him like he does, openly, curious, his gaze intense.

Shit.

Dean doesn’t trust himself to speak, he swallows and hopes that Cas hasn’t been snooping around in his head or at least that he’ll be decent enough not to say anything.

Aren’t his fantasies entitled to a little privacy?

“What?” he snaps when he can’t take it anymore.

Cas squints briefly but says nothing. He pushes himself up and leaves the room.

Dean feels embarrassed nonetheless.

What a load of bullshit.

Bobby is delusional – Dean can’t own a house. Can’t have to worry about fixing heaters, he’s too busy beheading werewolves. He doesn’t have time for that. He wasn’t born for that. Picket fences and someone – not a guy, certainly not Cas – to come home with. He’s not Sam. Homes are overrated anyway. A burden. He’s got everything he needs in his Baby.

And anyway, it doesn’t matter. They’re all gonna be dead after their showdown with the Devil. And if they’re not, it could be the next ghoul or ghost or vampire that takes them out.

It’s not like he’s ever gonna get time for anything like that.

[lightanddarklove]

Connverse Week Day 2: Singing

Singing while Sloshed

Rated: Teen  | Tw: Drinking/ Drunkenness

Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe | Connie Maheswaran & Steven Universe Read on Archive of Our Own | Day 1 prompt |  Day 3 Prompt | Day 4 prompt  | Day 5 prompt |  Day 6 Prompt | Day 7 prompt | My Writing Masterpost

This is obscenely long for what was supposed to be a drabble so I'm just going to link @susoftjockau, they’re incredibly wholesome and cute.

Edit: I may have gotten a few things wrong because I posted at 3 am, & this is an unbeta’d work. Also, being that I am not affiliated with the SJ AU, I don’t know if Fiona’s personality at all fits within its standard. If there’s another cheerleader character that her actions would make more sense for, I can totally change it. Its Connverse focused after all.

The first song Steven's riffing on is "It's Only Love" (though you may know it as Michelle) by The Beatles. The second song is "Love Like You," Steven Universe's extended credits theme.

I am continuing this for thursday’s prompt, together, as I orginally wanted them to have a conversation in the morning but at 3 am I had to call this done. I wrote over 4k words in one day that I was off from work and I can’t be doing that again, or staying up later, haha.

Lastly, the idea that Steven only likes sweet alcoholic bevs is hardwired into me, as someone who hates beer and wine, I think he wouldn't like them either. I mean he doesn't like energy drinks for stars sake (he makes a face when drinking one in Kevin Party), what about beer would be appealing when he can have wine coolers and ciders?

Anyway, feedback makes me smile, even if you tell me about typos or that I could be doing something better. Please let me know of I neglected any tags I should mention. Thanks for reading!

Edit 2: Tumblr mobile ate this post so when I got back home and tried to fix i the format didn’t have my readmore, so if you reblog it won’t be as much of a wall of text anymore. Sorry!

A night at a party for College-age Steven and Connie results in one too strong drink, a clumsy walk home, and embracing each other through the tears. Hurt-Comfort in the Soft Jock AU. Established relationship, but no significant physical intimacy. Rated T for drinking and one use of mild language. Some depression talk and self esteem issues too. Teen.

Steven had been sitting at a table, enjoying the music and sipping a soda in a red plastic cup until all that was left was ice. He was waiting for Connie to finish her conversation with Natalie across the room. He bobbed his head lightly to the music playing from the speaker by the doorway. He was smiling at Connie until Fiona came to sit down in front of him. He sat up a bit straighter and looked at her.

“Hey Fiona,” he said.

“You sticking around, Universe? Or you itching to get out of here,” asked Fiona.

“I wouldn’t say I’m itching to get out of here,” he replied. “But Connie and I were looking to leave soon.”

“Do you want another drink before you go?”

“Well, I did already have 2 wine coolers earlier, so I think I’m done for the night.”

“Really,” she asked. “I mean, how long ago was that? Like 10?”

“10:30,” he replied. “But I have to get home soon, anyway.”

“That was almost 2 hours ago.” She said. “You can have another drink. I’ll be right back, wait here. You like soda and orange flavor, right?” She began to stand and he tried to wave her back.

“Don’t trouble yourself for me, Fiona.”

“If you like soda and fruit juices, you’ll like it. You can barely taste the alcohol, the way I make it. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll make one for each of us.”

“Well, ok.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, just past the speakers. He tapped his foot and glanced back to Connie, who had leaned into Natalie as their conversation continued. Natalie had on a wry expression as she finished telling Connie something, and Connie threw her head back and laughed. It was nice to see Connie be more comfortable with herself after a few years in college. To see her laughing at a party and not have himself be the cause of it was a good feeling. Steven can’t help but feel his chest swell with pride. He smiled at her but didn’t try to get her attention yet.

With a clink, a glass was set down in front of him, Fiona sliding in from his peripherals. The drink didn’t look bubbly, a brown-orange tone with a few ice cubes and a lemon wedge hung over its rim. The glass looked like a juice glass, not designed to hold over 10 ounces, and it wasn’t full, so he assumed it was about a 6 to 8 oz drink. Fiona had her glass in her hand as she sat next to Steven with smirk.

“Ready to try something new, Steven?” Fiona asked. “Take a sip without the lemon first, then squirt it if you want it more sour.” She raised her glass, waiting to have him give her a cheers with his.

He lifted the drink and clinked hers, quietly saying “Cheers,” before bringing it to his lips. Sweet and sour was the first flavor he noted, and then mostly orange, with some cola blending in and a minor alcoholic tang. He was pretty sure the base of the liquor was tequila, but there were other flavors he couldn’t identify, since he was pretty new to trying drinks. He nodded and smiled after the first sip. “It’s good.”

“You like?” Fiona replied, voice coy.

“Yeah,” he said, and with two gulps his drink was almost gone. She snorted, seeing how quick he had downed the cocktail. He gasped quietly, the burn in his throat stronger than the flavors had made it out to be.

“Careful there, Universe, or you’ll be on the floor,” Fiona remarked. “You aren’t a lightweight, are you?”

“Its fine,” he replied, downing the last sip. His eyes drifted back to Connie who was quickly approaching from across the room, brows knitted in concern, and Natalie behind her. He moved to stand from the stool and stumbled slightly, not expecting to be feeling the alcohol so quickly. Connie moved her arms to steady him.

“You ok?” she asked, eyeing him over. Steven gave a dopey smile and leaned on her slightly.

“Heeeeeyyyy Connieeee,” his voice turning sultry and mellow. His lowered pitch sent a chill up her spine, but she pushed the feeling that thrilled her down and rounded on Fiona, glaring.

“What did you give him?” Connie barked.

“It looked like a Long Island Iced Tea,” Natalie said from behind Connie.

“I call it…” Fiona replied, pausing for effect and waving her half-finished drink in one hand, “a Strong Island Iced Tea. It’s got more tequila and sours than the standard.”

“A Long Island Iced Tea,” Connie half-shouted, exasperated. “Are you kidding me, Fiona? That has 5 kinds of alcohol in it!”

“Whoa,” Steven remarked quietly but with his lowered tone it made Connie feel warm in the pit of her stomach. “I didn’t know that. You’re so smart, Connie.” Her cheeks burned with blush as he said it with such adoration.

“He’s hammered,” Natalie crooned, half-way hiding a chuckle, before straightening up and gesturing her hand out. “Gimmie his keys. He shouldn’t be driving anywhere tonight.”

“I’m not hammered, jus’ a lil’ tipsy.” He slurred. He swayed slightly as Connie fished through his Jacket pocket. “Gimme an hour and I’ll be fiinnneee.”

“Definitely not,” she replied firmly, but not harshly. She handed Natalie Steven’s car keys. “You can stay with me tonight, ok? Sleepover?” He gasped with excitement.

“Sleepover!” he warbled hazily. “With Connie. You’re so sweet.” Her face felt hotter, as she gripped his hand in hers.

“Thanks for this, Fiona,” Connie said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “See you later.” Fiona grinned and waved.

“Don’t dare take advantage of him,” Natalie called, starting to walk back toward the party-goers. “I’ll find out. And make sure he hydrates.” She took out her phone and sent a group text to Steven and Connie, I have your keys, come get them after you’ve slept it off.

“I got this,” Connie replied, exasperation clear in her tone. She looked back in his face at his reddening eyes and put on a plating smile, trying to speak more kindly. “Let’s go get some rest, ok? You look tired.”

“You’re the best, Connie.” He said, glowing with inebriation. She began to lead him out when he started to serenade her, causing her mild blush to spread to her ears, face beet red. The tune was recognizable, a reworked Beatles cover.

“Connie, my sweet

You have made my heart feel joy complete

My Connie.”

“He doesn’t normally do this in front of others,” she called, voice slightly shaken with embarrassment to the partygoers as she led him through the entryway. “Please ignore us and have a good night.” They passed through the main doorway of the off campus housing as he continued his song.

“Connie, my sweet

Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble”

His French pronunciation was faltering. She knew he was at an intermediate Italian level. But in trying to speak French, it sounded like he had tried Duolingo for an hour and was making a fool of himself pretending he had been doing it his whole life. He pitched forward again and she had to nearly dive to keep him upright. She hoisted as much of his broad shoulders and chest over her smaller frame without attempting to carry him outright as he sang sweetly in her ear, legs stumbling behind her.

“I love you, I love you, I love you

That's all I want to say

Until I find a way

I will say the only words I know that you'll understand”

She lead him on sidewalks, trying to take the most direct route to her dorm and avoiding uneven surfaces as best she could. Her blush had died down, mainly because other people weren’t watching them. The way his warm frame leaned against her dragging the thrilling feeling out of her again, making her heart pound firmly against her ribs. Still, she tried to keep focus and lead them out of the chill night air as quick as she could.

“Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble

I need to, I need to, I need to

I need to make you see

Oh, what you mean to me

Until I do, I'm hoping you will know what I mean

I love you”

“You’re so sappy,” Connie replied, voice quiet. “I know that you would do his sober, but I just wish this kind of thing was just for the two of us, you know?”

“I want you, I want you, I want you

I think you know by now

I'll get to you somehow

Until I do, I'm telling you so you'll understand”

She leaned against him as she held his hand outside of her dorm, fumbling with her keys as she kept her left hand gripped tight to his right.

“Connie, my sweet

Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble

And I will say the only words I know that you'll understand

My Connie.”

He faltered a bit as they came through the doorway, smacking his left arm just above his wrist as she lead him upstairs to her room. Connie winced at the sound. She was grateful her roommate Carly was out of town for the evening. She still probably will hear about it, the rumor mill ran strong on this campus, but at least Connie was spared from more embarrassment this evening.

“You done now?” she asked. She sat him down on the bed and dug through her closet for his spare pair of sweatpants she kept there.

“Uh-huh,” Steven replied, voice thick and alluring. “Thanks for takin’ me back, Strawberry, I know you always lookin’ out for me. I’m lucky I have someone like you. Love you.”

She shivered at the praise, avoiding his eyes as she set the pants down on a clean patch of floor.

“You need to drink some water and take some aspirin before bed.” Connie ordered. “Stay put, I’m going to get both of those things.” She pulled her own pajamas from the corner of the bed and closed the bathroom door behind her. She grabbed the aspirin bottle from the cabinet and set it on the counter. Glancing back to ensure that the door was fully closed, she peeled her outfit off quickly and tugged her PJs on. Grabbing her hairbrush and two pills from the bottle of medicine, she backed outside. Steven still sat on the bed, swaying lazily.

“Hiiii Connnniiieeee.” His voice had drawn back up to its usual tenor as he greeted him. She smiled.

“Hi Steven, stay here for a minute, ok?” She replied. “I’m going to the kitchen, and I want you to wait because I don’t want to risk you falling on the stairs.” She placed the brush on the pants she had set out and kept the pills clutched to her palm by her ring and pinky finger.

“Yooooouuuu got it!” He gave a thumbs up.

She darted out of the room after he confirmed he would stay, and hurried down the stairs. She pulled 2 water bottles from the fridge, both eco-friendly bottles that she and Steven had shared before. After grabbing clean reusable straws from the drying rack to put in the bottles, she marched back upstairs. She left her door open and found Steven had taken his shoes and jacket off in the time she was gone. He laid on his stomach, feet crossed and head propped up on his arms across her bed diagonally.

“You’re cute in your PJs, Connie.” He caught her off guard with that compliment. But she crossed the room anyway and sat next to his head. Despite how lucid he sounded, it was best he got some water in him before going to sleep.

“Thanks, but can you sit up for me? I have some medicine I need to give you and then I’ll brush your hair.”

“Yay! Sleepover activities!” He propped himself up onto his elbows and stuck his tongue out, leaning his head back for the aspirins. She was glad he trusted her this much, but it was a bit worrying that he was so lax. She hoped he would always keep himself safe as he dropped the two pills into his open mouth and pressed the straw of the bottle to his tongue. He leaned on one hand as he took the bottle from her in the other, sipping the water through the straw. If he was always this trusting while drunk, someone could take advantage of him, and that thought scared her. She wanted to think about anything else, so she gently took his curls in her hand and gave them a gentle stroke. A chill went along his back and shoulders and he made a little excited noise.

“I want to brush your hair,” she offered. “Can I take your hair tie out?”

“Mmm-hmm,” his response came around the straw. With a gentle tug the hair tie was out and his curls came loose, framing his maturing face. She stood, watching him as she moved toward the brush on the floor. He finished his sip and let out a contented sigh. “I hope I haven’ been too much trouble, Berry.”

“What?” she asked as she got the brush and came back to sit next to him.

“I’m all loopy, an’ you’ve been takin’ care of me.” His response was quiet but mostly coherent.

“I know you would do the same for me, drunk, sick or whatever, Biscuit,” she replied. “I’m not upset that you need help. It’s ok to ask. Now I’m gonna ask that you sit in front of me so I can brush your hair.”

“Kaaay.” He called, setting the water down on her end table. She gasped as he suddenly rolled off the bed and landed on his left forearm and knees, not reacting quite fast enough to catch himself with his hands. It was still impressive he hadn’t fallen onto his face.

“Steven-“Connie scolded.

“Huh?” he sat up and scooted his back up against her knees.

“Don’t be so careless,” she replied. “You scared me. And drink your water, please.”

“I can do that,” he said. He leaned over to grab the bottle and then rested his head touching her knees. She flipped his hair up onto her thighs, accessing the ends and began brushing. He hummed contentedly. “You’re great, Connie. I’m glad that this all didn’ go badly.” Her brows furrowed with concern as she worked through his tangles. “Was scared, ya know? If you weren’ keeping me calm, I might’ve been the angry drunk type, an’ made a mess of things.”

“I-“ Connie felt her hands shake slightly as she tried to muster a response. “That could happen to anybody, you shouldn’t worry too much…”

“Buh my powers, if ‘m not careful, I could hurt somebody, then I’d get expelled, or arrested, fer sure.” She gripped the brush tightly and accidentally pulled back on a knot. He hissed quietly through his teeth and she dropped the brush. His shoulders trembled slightly and she heard a sniff. She dropped down onto her knees, hugging him from behind.

“No Steven,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone.” He sniffed again, putting his water down and scrubbed at his face.

“Turns out… I’m actually a sad drunk,” he joked, and turned to face her. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears and he gasped. “Oh nooooo… now I’ve made you sad. I’m sorry. ‘m so sorry. So so sorry.” He turned around fully, kneeling and held her tight to his chest. Fat tears dripped down his cheeks. She clutched to his shirt, resting her head on his shoulder and let her own tears fall.

“You don’t- you shouldn’t feel like it’s- it isn’t your fault,” she stuttered.

“I made you cr-cry,” He bawled. “I’m always hurting people, even wh-when I don’t meeean to.” She took a steadying breath, trying to defuse his turbulent emotions.

“You’re allowed to forgive yourself, Steven,” she replied, looking up. Her eyes still shone with wetness, staring into his face as he looked away.

“I- I- embar- rrassed you, I made you cryyyy, and- nd I burdened you with my prob-blems,” he hiccupped. “I shouldn’ be here- I need to-“He moved to stand but Connie held tight.

“No.” she ordered. “You should stay. You’re upset and you’re allowed to be. You can talk to me about anything. Please don’t go. I’ll worry if you leave.”

“B-B-but…”

“Please,” she repeated.

That was convincing enough. He wilted into her touch, resting his head on her shoulder. Any sign of resistance melted away into fatigue. A few trace sobs shook his frame before they quieted. She kept one hand on his shoulder and grabbed Steven’s water with the other. She pulled away long enough to press the drink into his hands. He nodded, sitting down fully and drinking quietly. She sat in front of him and ran one hand through his hair, and gave him gentle strokes on his upper arm with her opposite arm.

“You look like you’re stewing.” She remarked gently. “Having a few drinks doesn’t make you a bad person. Asking for help doesn’t either. I’ll gladly have a few embarrassing stories about me if it means you get to go home safe tomorrow. Letting you leave by yourself and get hurt would have been far worse than anything else that could have gone wrong. You deserve to be safe, ok?” He nodded meekly, finishing the drink with a loud slurp. “You aren’t asking too much to be here. You don’t deserve to feel like a burden, and no one I know would ever say that about you.” He quietly leaned forward, dropping the empty bottle to the space between his thighs and went to press his forehead to hers. She obliged him.

“Thank you,” he half-whispered.

“Now, are you steady enough to stand, or will you need help getting changed?” she leaned over to where the sweatpants she had put out for him earlier sat and pulled herself close to him after grabbing them. He opened his palms to her and let her place them in his hands.

“I think I got it.” His face was tinged with blush at the suggestion. He pressed his right palm to the floor, moving to stand. She pulled herself to her feet first and offered him a hand up. He threw his pants over his shoulder and took his hand. She smiled gently at him. He fondly returned the gesture, steadily making his way to the bathroom door.

“Oh wait, I just want to grab something out of there,” she called, hurriedly stepping in front of him. She snatched the aspirin off the counter and put it away, grabbing makeup wipes and a compact mirror from her medicine cabinet. She stepped out, gesturing behind her. “It’s all yours. Please be careful, maybe sit on the toilet to get changed? I don’t want you to fall.”

With a sigh he nodded. He stepped through the doorway and closed it behind him. She leaned against the wall next to the door and took a make-up wipe out, swiping her mascara streaked eyes before opening the compact. As she worked the wipe across her face she herd Steven’s gentle singing come through the door, just over the sounds of him changing.

“If I could begin to be

Half of what you think of me

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love

When I see the way you act

Wondering when I'm coming back

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you”

She recognized the song as being something he had said the gems had sung for him when he was young. It stung that he might think these kind of thoughts about himself. She swallowed hard.

“Love like you

I always thought I might be bad

Now I'm sure that it's true

'cause I think you're so good

And I'm nothing like you”

“Steven, I promise that isn’t true…” She called through the wall. She heard him stand and move toward the door.

“Look at you go

I just adore you

I wish that I knew

What makes you think I'm so special…”

She stood as the door opened and embraced him. He leaned forward into her and sang quietly into her neck. She held him close and rubbed soothing circles into his shoulders. He swayed gently into her touch as he crooned.

“If I could begin to do

Something that does right by you

I would do about anything

I would even learn how to love

When I see the way you look

Shaken by how long it took

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you

Love like you

Love me like you…”

They stood in silence for a moment and just enjoyed being held by each other. After a bit, she lowered her hand and took him by the wrist, leading him to the bed. After he sat, she took her garbage and placed it near the head of the bead and cleared her night stand.

“You’re going to be on the outside of the bed tonight.” She remarked quietly. “I’m the big spoon this time. Just let me know if you start to feel sick. I don’t care if I’m sleeping, I will hold your hair back.” He nodded. “How do you feel right now?”

“Not great, but, better than before,” he muttered.

“Well, I’m going to try and make it better. Lie down, ok?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He obliged without protest. She grabbed the comforter, tucked him in and crossed the room, shutting the light off. She stepped over him and lied down by his left shoulder. She untucked that side of the bed to get herself firmly snuggled into the weighted blanket, and nimbly re-tucked them both in.

“Night, biscuit.” She murmured. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” He replied. “Night.” He turned to face away, pointing his face toward the trash bin in case his stomach lurched in protest while sleeping. She rubbed few more gentle circles into his back and let herself be comforted with his warmth beside him. He heard her breathing even out before long, hoping that sleep would come easier with her beside him. It wasn’t long before the heaviness in his heart was outweighed by heavy eyelids, and drifted into slumber.

------------

Morning came, as it always did, a bit too soon for Connie’s liking. She gave a quiet sigh through her nose and lifted her head to check on Steven, who she could hear was snoring quietly. He had turned in the night to lie on his back, and his calf draped over her lower legs. His expression looked peaceful, but dark circles still showed on the pale skin beneath his eyes. Craning her neck, she could see the bathroom had looked as she had left it, as did the trash bin. It was unlikely seeing these two things in place that he had gotten sick in the night and not woken her.

She laid back down, pressing her face into the soft skin of his upper arm. He smiled contentedly but stayed asleep. It was a Sunday, so no pressing commitments for either of them. She could let him rest and deadlines for Monday be damned. She draped her arm across his torso, and let herself melt into the bed. She told him he deserved to be safe, and she never felt safer than with her next to him. Hopefully, the reverse was true, and she could help him to feel safe and loved. For now, what he needed was sleep, and she wouldn’t deny him that peace. He gave her joy and that was precious to her. So she would help however she could, and that meant staying in bed. She would take it any day.

[fenheart87]

Unexpected Ch 1

"Alright class, I know today is a special day and you all have been so eager to drop the school work and get to celebrating but we have one more thing before we can end our work for today." Mme. Bustier smiled brightly at the collective groans across the classroom. "This is a project, you can be by yourself, with a partner or a group or even all work together."

"Mme. Bustier, what type of project is it?" Mylene asked, more excited than confused.

"Marinette as class president I believe I'll let you share with the class." She waved up the ravenette, flipping the white board that showed a loosely detailed plan and a list of everyone in the class.

"Sure thing! And before you say it, no Alya I was not hiding anything from you, we actually set up this a few weeks ago." Marinette teased, falling into her confident planner self as her front row distraction was currently modeling for a perfume ad. "We are taking over the park for a few hours for a class party at the end of the day! Snacks will be provided by the best bakery of course, papa has some new flavors so please be honest on what you think. The best ones get to become part of the menu."

"Oh yeah dude! Bring it on!" Nino cheered, Kim fist pumping the air in excitement.

"First things first! We need to split into jobs, here is a rough idea of what we need done and how many people to do it. If you want to take a few jobs that require only one person go for it! If you only want one or just a group job that's fine too. Please make sure you sign up for at least one as that is considered your participation for today and cross your name off the list."

Everyone jumped from their seats, breaking off into groups and talking about what they wanted to do and how they want to decorate. Marinette waited to the side for any follow up questions or to give directions to find supplies they had set aside for the party.

"Um, mme. Bustier, I don't see my name..." Lila spoke up, pouting slightly.

"Oh! With how busy you, Chloe and Adrien are, I left you off incase you weren't able to make it. Same with Max, sometime his gaming club has plans already. Just made it easier so we dont accidentally sign you up for something." Marinette said brightly, watching as Lila tried to hold her composure at being thwarted.

"Oh thanks Marinette but we do not have plans for today, we are getting together over the weekend. Speaking of, would you like to join us?" Max invited, ignoring the italian completely who seemed to be struggling for a composed face.

"Sure! Although I'm not sure how good I'll be at anything other than mechastrike." She laughed, waving off Markov who was running numbers to argue her claim.

"Looks like you'll have to try harder Rossi." Chloe commented in a smarmy manner. "Sabrina sign us up for something like getting supplies, make it quick and easy. I do not want to be crowded with a bunch of losers."

"Sure thing Chloe, looks like we'll be helping Marinette with the food! We just have to get it from her parents bakery when everyone else is set up." Sabrina wrote their names under Marinette's, handing off the marker to Alix.

"Girl you thought of everything! How did you keep this a secret from me?" Alya accused playfully, throwing an arm around the shorter girl.

"I told you we had a party coming up, you just thought I meant a different kind. Besides you gave me a lot of the ideas and you didn’t know it!" Marinette preened under the positive attitudes and creative ideas that were flowing around the room.

"Marinette you forgot one thing!" Rose spoke up, jumping in place excitedly.

"Oh no, did I forget some decorations? Or did i not ask for enough food? Drinks?"

"No silly! Music!" Rose twirled Marinette causing her to stumble right into Ivan who just got back from the art room. Seeing the boxes she almost knocked out of his hands, Marinette squeaked and flailed a little bit more causing her to tumble down fully.

"Whoa, careful! Looks like I got back just in time." Ivan smiled helping a red faced Marinette from the floor with a free hand.

"Oh Ivan! Good thing you are back! We were just talking about the Valentine's Day party for the class and setting everything up at the park. Marinette, do you think we could ask Kitty Section to play?!" Rose gushed, hands under her chin and hearts in her eyes.

"Kitty Section is busy but I could talk to the leader guitarist, I helped with their outfits when they performed for Bob Ross after all." Lila spoke up drawing everyone attention, confused and angry alike.

"Alya, for once, please just let this happen." Nino whispered, cupping his hand over his girlfriend's mouth.

"Oh! That would be amazing Lila! Just the thing were missing. I cannot believe I spaced on the music selection. It is kind of last minute though, they are super busy... If they can't make it, Nino would you be able to spin some beats?" Marinette chimed cheerfully, snagging one of Lila's hands as she would anyone else before spinning to the frozen couple.

"Sure thing dude!" Nino smiled, removing his hand from Alya's mouth.

"Awesome! Rose, Juleka, Ivan and Mylene can you help Nino with his equipment?" Marinette asked with a grin, blue eyes sparkling.

"Sister-dude." Juleka mumbled as she walked by, earning a bright smile from the shorter girl and giving a small upward squirm of the lips in return.

"Chloe and Sabrina, if there is nothing else you want to help with, maman said we can start boxing up stuff. We have to wait for the tables before we can place them." Marinette smiled and left the classroom, sending one last text to her maman. "Today is a great day!"

__________________________________________

"So the party is at lunch and we get to enjoy the rest of the day to celebrate and enjoy!"

"Looks good so far Nathaniel, Maman said the food is almost done so we will go get it once the tables are setup." Marinette complimented, giving a thumbs up.

"I hope I'm invited this all looks great!" Adrien joked, finally back from his perfume ad. " What can I help with?" Streamers decorated the trees and a huge picnic blanket was. hosting some board games with coolers next to them.

"Hey dude, we could use some help getting the tables propped up so when the girls get back they have somewhere to put the food." Nino waved the blond over to where he was trying to puzzle out the safety latch.

"Adrikins! After this, we should totally go eat at my fathers hotel, I can have them reserve a table for just the two of us-" Chloe began, cut off by Lila who joined in swarming the model.

"Adrien! I don’t know if you've heard but I'm getting Kitty Section to play, I talked to the lead guitarist and since I helped design their costumes, they said they owe me a favor and will play for us!"

Adrien looked uncomfortably between the two girls, looking to Nino for help be he certainly knew Lila was lying. The DJ looked ready to laugh at any moment and subtlety shook his head. His savior came in the form of a blue hair guitarist, who was helping Marinette and dropping off Juleka's hair clips.

"Hey Adrien, Nino. And new girl." Marinette snorted softly, earning a playful nudge. "I heard something about Kitty Section?" Luka listened to Lila's spiel, noting her methods and listening to her true self. "Cool, I wanted to give back the guitar pick to the bass player. She's pretty awesome and I hear close to the guitarist."

"Oh well when they get here you could!" Lila deflected, sliding closer and seeming to just notice his aesthetic.

"Too bad you don't go to our school, things would certainly be more musical if you did." Marinette giggled, drawing a smile from Luka. "I can stop by later for the finishing touches, there's no rush."

"Marinette! You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend!" Lila exclaimed, drawing the attention of the entire class, most amused as they knew the blue eyed darling was torn between the two boys.

"You know it is so not cool to blurt out other people's business when it doesn’t concern you. I'd appreciate it if people who don’t even know my name didn't spread lies about me. What Marinette and I have between us, or do not have, is our business and we certainly don't need outside help to figure it out. Unless we ask for it." Luka coolly snapped, leading Marinette over to Rose and Juleka.

"Adrikins!" Chloe would not be letting the little liar work another lie to cover up her being called out. "Dinner tonight, my father hotel of course. Wear something nice."

"Actually I already have plans with Kagami... We're going to see a movie and then have dinner, her mother and my father have fencing ideas to discuss. Hey Marinette, if you and Luka want to join us you can."

"Actually-" Luka stared but was cut off by the shorter girl.

"Double date?" Marinette asked, looking at Luka to confirm, smiling shyly.

"Oh, cool." Luka smiled like the sap he is, drawing giggles from Rose and snort from his sister. "Yeah, double date."

"Text me later?" Marinette blushed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. The sappy sigh had Rose burst into giggles which snapped the taller boy out of his trance.

"Yeah, later." He looked lost for a moment. "Later." Luka repeated and then left, not even caring the cheesy grin on his face was completely ruining his bad boy image.

"Marinette." Alya's voice snapped Marinette back to herself and she became an incoherent blubbing mess of blushing stutters.

[petri808]

A Second Chance Meeting

For the lovely winner of the raffle @cstormsinukagblog found a cute prompt to use too, hope you like it :)

Prompt [173] You’re a valet driver parking a car. Inside you find a crumpled note with your own address on it. What do you do?      

The restaurant was slow, but nothing surprising for a Tuesday.  Many of the customers this evening has been business types there for casual dinner meetings, or cocktails before heading home.  In other words, the usual traffic.  For Inuyasha, as the Valet manager, these were the times he could catch up on other things, tidy up his workspace, or do paperwork.  But one of his valet drivers hadn’t been feeling well and since it was slow, he’d sent the man home.  Now he needed to pick up the slack and that meant catching cars on the drive.  Inuyasha didn’t mind.  One of the advantages of working a job like this one, was getting to drive lots of different types of cars.  

After returning from parking one car, another of his employees was just finishing up tagging a set and getting ready to move a car from the drive.  “I got this,” Inuyasha takes the keys, “keep watching the drive.”

“Sure, thing boss,” the man smirks, “oh and by the way, the chick driving it, veryeasy on the eyes.”

“Oi, mind the rules Miroku, any more complaints from the ladies and I won’t be able to save your job.”

“I know, I know, I’ll behave I promise.”  

“Keh,” as if he believed the lecher.  One day that man needed to find and settle on one woman instead of trying to bed half the town.  “Be right back.”  Miroku gives him a two-finger salute and walks back to the valet station. Inuyasha rolls his eyes, then slides into the driver seat.  

Wait, something was amiss here.  The scent of the car’s owner seemed familiar, even rousing, like a pheromone to stir the senses.   And, if his nose was serving him correctly, there was a trace scent of him in this car!  But Inuyasha couldn’t remember ever being in this car before.  

After parking the vehicle, he rifles through any items he can find.  A big no, no, but he needed to figure out what the deal was.  The woman kept the car fairly neat and tidy.  Kagome Higurashi, according to the vehicle registration in the glove box.  ‘Kagome,’ he rolls that name over and over in his head.  It was one of those moments when you know you knew something but just couldn’t break through the blockage in your mind, tip of the tongue so to speak.  “Ugh!” Inuyasha runs his hand between the passenger seat and middle console where his fingers brush against a piece of paper.  He pulls out the slightly crumpled note.

Inuyasha Taisho. It was his handwriting, albeit messier than usual.  Along with his phone number and address.  What was a note with his information doing on a piece of paper in a random woman’s car?!          

He shoves the paper in his pocket and rushes back to the valet station where he sees Miroku, standing and waiting for the next customer.  Inuyasha grabs the man with both hands, a sense of desperation dripping in his tone.  “Describe her for me!  The woman, what’d she look like?!”

A wide eyed Miroku, blinks, shocked by his boss’ reaction.  “Um, little taller than 5 foot, long wavy jet-black hair, blue eyes.”

“That’s it?!”

“S-She has nice perky breasts?” The frightened man shrugs and immediately shrinks when Inuyasha’s eyebrows furrow.  “I-I don’t know what else to tell you!  You know I mainly look at stuff like that!”

“Ugh!” Inuyasha lets the man go in a huff, muttering under his breath about a pervert.  “I think I know her somehow, or she knows me,” he runs a hand down his face, “I don’t know, but I found a piece of paper in her car with my info on it.”

“Whoa are you holding out on me?   Wait,” Miroku pauses, scratching his chin.  “About a month ago, you mentioned going out to a bar, but couldn’t remember how you got home.  Could this Kagome chick have something to do with that?”

That’s right!  Inuyasha recalls.  It was the anniversary of his mother’s passing and he preferred to drink enough to just pass out for the night instead of going home to a lonely apartment.  The bartender knew his routine and would hail a taxi for him at closing but that night, he had met someone.  Fuck!  It was all too hazy for him to make out any real details and right now it was pissing him off.  All he knew was if her scent could affect him sober, could you imagine if he was drunk?

It couldn’t have ended badly if he’d wound up getting a ride back home from the woman.  He shakes his head knowing that even when drunk he didn’t turn into a lush.  Now he wondered if he’d started talking about his mother or some other sappy topic.  Could she have given him a ride cause she just felt bad for him?  He groans, ‘Please don’t let it be that!’        

The longest two hours of Inuyasha’s life passes by like a snail trying to cross a football field.  He paced.  He whipped through customers, always making sure to be available in case Kagome came out of the restaurant.  Miroku found it amusing to watch his boss, never seeing this side of Inuyasha before.  The poor hanyo was like a lost puppy, head whipping towards the entrance every time he heard the door open, only to be disappointed, and ears curled back in dejection when it wasn’t her.

Till it happened.  The moment the doors opened, and her scent came wafting out ahead like a calling card, Inuyasha pounced.  He rushes up to Kagome, startling the poor woman at first and inciting a staring contest.  Her widened eyes pause, processing the male.  

All the thoughts and words he’d planned and practiced die on his tongue.  He couldn’t say anything, just stare.  Miroku had been right, Kagome was very easy on the eyes, and yet wrong, because to him she was fucking gorgeous!  Her dark blue eyes were like staring at the ocean.  Long wavy black hair cascades down her back, lightly shifting with the breeze.  She was trim and fit, a beautiful body…. Ugh he loved her curves!

Seconds go by.  This strange man…. Handsome.  Her heart quickens as his golden honey hues hold her hostage.  She knew him somehow.  Kagome tilts her head slightly finally recognizing him, “Inu-yasha?”  Her hands fly up to his face, cradling it, “It is you! Of course, how could I forget those ears!  I hoped you were okay after I dropped you off, you didn’t text me like you said you would.”

That breaks his daze. “Wait, text you?  Why didn’t you just call me?  You had my phone number.”

Confused, her expression changes.  “No, I didn’t, that’s why I put my info in your phone, so when you called, it would save on my phone.”

He blinks.  “I, when,” pulling his phone out of his back pocket and scrolling through his contacts.  There she was under ‘H’.  “How did you?”

She chuckles, “you gave me your phone to do it because you were too drunk to.  I guess I should have realized you might forget.  But when did you give me your info?”

He pulls the piece of paper out his pocket.  “I found it next to the passenger seat when I parked your car.”  Showing it to her.  “Maybe I wrote it and dropped it, but I don’t remember.”  

“Here,” Kagome sticks out her hand, “give me your phone.”  After Inuyasha hands it to her, she calls herself.  “There we go, now I have it saved too.”  She smiles and chuckles, “we should hang out again, when you’re sober.”  Shouldering her purse and checking her watch, “Guess I should be going now, I’m glad I ran into you Inuyasha.”

The light blush on her cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by either of the men.  Miroku, who’d stood by quietly, gently nudges his boss in the back, whispering to make a move.  Inuyasha elbows the man to back off, but steps closer to Kagome of his own volition. “I’d like that,” he stammers, “how about this Saturday, I’ve got the night off.”

“That works for me.”  Inuyasha opens the car door for her, and she slides into the seat.  “Good night Inuyasha.  Call me later okay?”

“I promise.  Good night Kagome.”

With the taillights safely leaving their view, Miroku saddles closer again to his boss.  “Good night Kagome,”the man teases by ending with kissing sounds.  He laughs, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be so nice.”

“Oh, shut up Miroku!” Inuyasha storms away to his office with a big grin still plastered on his face.  Pulling her profile back up on his phone, he looks at it, almost to make sure it really just happened.  Suddenly, he hears a notification ping and switches to the messages.  

Just got home.  Gn again Inu, see you Saturday ;)  

Inuyasha’s heart jumps into his throat as his trembling fingers work the keypad.  

I look forward to it! Gn Kagome.

He exhales and closes his eyes for a breather.  The next three days better pass by quickly!

[dunkshotdreaming]

blogger!A.C.E headcanon/au:

If the A.C.E members were active on tumblr, what kind of blog would they each run?

A/N: Oh boy, this is gonna be a fun one to answer. 😂 Side note I put “au” bc I kinda wrote this based off their personalities but not focused on themas idols..so could count as a non-idol au I guess?? Also, I apologize ahead of time if my headcanons don’t live up to anyone else’s, but this is all just speculation anyway right?~

Jun: I picture Jun with one of those blogs that has a lot of pretty pictures of nature and maybe some dog pics, tons of inspirational quotes and he’d share some dance videos and probably vlog about how to self care or do some guided meditation posts. (I just see him as a caring person, so I feel like he’d like to help others as well?? Best bet his sideblogs would be a mess though lmfao) Might be into sharing pretty gifsets and odd street fashion he finds endearing. Probably uses lots of emoticons when answering asks and stuff.

Donghun: I feel like Donghun would share a lot more sappy stuff, in a way? He’d either be hyping up his online friends or be venting about his day OR roast the shit out of anyone who tries to troll him. Might share pretty pics and photos/gifd of people cuddling (bc he’s always clinging onto someone). Might also post ootds or share fashion posts in general as well. See him as the type to maybe just share whatever he likes/is on his mind at the moment; shares weekly singing covers and sometimes takes follower requests.

Wow: Hm, as for Sehyoon… I think he would have more of an artsy style blog? He’d share his art and reblog others he likes as well. Might dabble into fashion or diy, might also share some workout or dance stuff, might shitpost every so often as well, who knows? I do see him sharing cool choreographies he comes across and such. Would probably post pics of his sweaters and be like “I miss you buddy” bc Eunseo (his sister) stole his clothes again lol. The type to show off his “secret” soft side on his blog, especially late night thoughts or outfits he made (perhaps sometimes matching sets with his sister too uwu,,).

Byeongkwan: Idk why but I get the feeling that Byeongkwan would have like a gamer/anime kind of blog. Shares his profiles and streams, or shares stuff he’s created in-game or his best records. Would share like “top 10 anime betrayals” lists but it would actually just be stuff his friends have done to him he’s still salty y about pfftt. Might be another one to rb pics of hand holding or something bc he’s another clingy lil bud. He’ll have his nights where he’s drank too much and starts typing/streaming while absolutely smashed and everyone can’t help but laugh bc he’s all over the place. Might share videos of freestyle dancing or choreos he’s worked on and then you’re watching just like….whoa, is this the same dude? (…my nerd/dancer ass had way too much fun writing that one, I apologize,,)

Chan: I see Yuchan with a sort of comfy modern yet hipster aesthetic kind of blog. He’ll post his favorite music/artists/musicals, talks to his followers like old time friends, probably sound like a tour guide trying to sell you on a trip with how much he gushes about his homeland (Jeju). Dumb selfies with friends and fanboying over favorite artists’ new music, tons of memes, imitating famous pics or characters, shitposter half the time, very friendly/bubbly and probably has a lot of mutuals (also real crackhead hours whenever he’s hyper). Shares some clips of new music he’s been working on or covers of songs he’s really into. His blog space is just a homey/crackhead vibe overall.

[dr-gloom]

To Join You By Your Side

For Halloween! Day 31 of @sanderssidesspook‘s Spook Month!

Prompt: The Big Spook

Fandom: Sander’s Sides

Pairing: Sleepxiety

Words: 3,193

Summary: This was by far the scariest thing Virgil has ever done in his life. He’s planned for this day for months, put up with things he never would have before, just to see this day happen. All for Remy. 

Tags/Warnings: flashbacks, cute nerds, self deprecation, halloween festivities, I’m trying to tag this without giving anything away, Human AU

Enjoy!

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@punsterterry

Virgil was scared. No, scratch that, he was terrified. The walls were closing in, looming high above him. Shadows were slithering from every corner and crevice to swallow him up. He pulls at the cuffs of his costume - because that’s all this was, a costume - nervously. He’d been planning this for months. Dozens of phone calls, meetings, and compromises to make this happen. All the near-heart-attacks from listening to the phone ring just to hear it be answered and that split second of silence that made his breathing stop.

Virgil paced his living room anxiously, wearing a path into the old, dingy carpet. He listened to the sound of the phone ringing, heart beating a little too quickly and his anxiety ratcheting up with every pause between ringing. Finally, finally- the call was answered. There was silence for a split second, and then-

“Jack and Jill’s Flower Garden, how may I help you?”

Virgil swallowed nervously. “Ah, yeah, I uh- I need to order two dozen bouquets of uh…” He looks at the small list in his hand, the paper crumpled from his anxious fidgeting. “Double Orange Begonias, Orange Ranunculus Victoria, and Eggplant Calla Lilies.”

“Can I get an address for delivery?”

Virgil gives them the address and hangs up, his heart hammering in his chest. God, he hated phone calls. He has to sit on the carpet and practice his breathing exercise for a few minutes before he’s calm enough.

He must’ve just debated cancelling this whole thing a dozen times, but it wasn’t about him, and he would never do that. Not to Remy, who’d been looking forward to this so much (if it wasn’t for the fact that he was so busy, he’d be the one planning this).

Because today wasn’t just about him. Today was about the both of them. Virgil had searched for the perfect place to pull this off for months, searched for just the right things to make sure this went perfectly. Practicing his lines over and over and over again until he could recite them in his sleep. Then he worried that he had said them in his sleep and ruined everything. Ruined the surprise. Someone knocked on the door and he jumped, his heart skipping a beat. Patton opened the door sheepishly and smiled at Virgil. “Hey kiddo, you ready?”

Patton was wearing a nice black suit and light blue tie, fangs just barely poking past his lips, only really visible when he smiled.

Virgil nodded, tugging on his cuffs one last time before leaving his impromptu dressing room and taking his place. He looked around the room. Bouquets are placed strategically around the room (Logan had been adamant about finding the perfect balance). Spider’s webs are draped over every piece of furniture. Orange and black accents are placed around the room, ribbon running along the walkway. This was going to be the scariest thing he’d ever done.

Today was Virgil’s wedding.

He stood at the front of the church (he’d been hesitant about having their wedding in a church since neither of them were religious, but Remy promised it was ironic as hell, especially since their wedding was on Halloween) next to the minister, anxiously playing with the cufflinks on his jacket. He was never one for suits, because he didn’t like how constricting they felt, but he and Remy had spent a week making little changes to their outfits as a sort of compromise. Virgil was sort of a Frankenstein’s monster kind of thing (closer to Sally, really), with purple plaid patches sewn onto the suit and the odd bunch of fake leaves sticking out between seams and folds in the fabric. He used liquid latex and fake stitching to make it look like he was sewn together. Remy was supposed to be a zombie.

Patton, Logan, Roman, sat in the front row, giving Virgil the odd encouraging smile or nod when he’d glance their way. He gives them a shaky smile, adjusting a fake leaf that keeps tickling his neck. Declan, who stands next to him as his best man, squeezes his shoulder. A more suspenseful version of The Wedding March starts up, and Virgil stiffens. Shit, it’s starting. Shit shit shit shit. Virgil stands at attention, looking over towards the doors. Everyone stands and looks as well.

Remy enters in his torn and dirtied suit, face makeup making his skin look dead and decaying, one lense of his (spare) shades shattered to reveal a sunken-in eye. Virgil had to hand it to Remy, he really knew his makeup. He briefly lost himself in his fiancé, forgetting that he was supposed to be scared out of his mind. It wasn’t until Remy was almost next to him that he remembered that this was a wedding and he was getting married oh god what was Remy doing marrying him?

The music stops, everyone sits, and the minister smiles kindly at the room. “Hello all. Shall we begin?” With a slightly jerky nod from Virgil and a smirk from Remy, he starts. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union between two souls in a bond of holy matrimony...”

Virgil looks over Remy’s face, taking in the liquid latex deforming his features and making him look dead and decayed. He thinks about the first time they met.

Virgil liked to come to the park at night when he was feeling overwhelmed. It was calm, quiet, and it held a strange air of other-worldness that made you feel like you were the only living being left. He liked that feeling when the world has become too much (the rest of the time? Not so much). He was sitting on one of the park’s benches, facing the empty soccer fields with his headphones over his ears, listening to Twenty One Pilots. In his opinion, they perfectly captured that feeling you got from witnessing an abandoned swing set. The perfect mood music for when your mind was spiralling and you needed it to stop. He pulled himself out of his thoughts to focus on the lyrics.

“Though I'm weak

Beaten down

I'll slip away

Into the sound

The ghost of you

Is close to me

I'm inside out

You're underneath”

Virgil saw something out of the corner of his eye and tensed up. Oh god, figures. On the one night he just wanted to be alone he’d been found by a park-going serial killer. He was gonna die. They were gonna kill him and he wouldn’t be found until morning and he’d ruin some poor kid’s memory of parks forever. That kid was going to need so much thera-

Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped, screaming and ripping his headphones off.

The man puts his hands up, a clear Starbucks cup in one hand. “Whoa, babe, calm-”

“I- I am no one’s babe, fuck you!”

The man takes a step back. “Ooookaaayyyy. Let’s take a deep breath, yeah? I just wanted to ask if you knew where we are right now, because I sure don’t.”

Virgil blinks, going lax and staring at the man with complete confusion. “I… What?”

“I’m so lost right now.”

“You and me both, buddy.”

The man shakes his head. “No, I mean, I have no clue where we are. What park is this?” Virgil looks around. Was this a prank?

“Uh…. Richmont.”

The man just stares at him.

“...By the Cleaver Mall?”

Nothing.

“Do you even live in Randsy?”

The man sighs. “Nope. Treeling.”

Okay, that wasn’t too far, actually, but… “How the hell did you get all the way here without knowing where you’re going?”

He laughs lightly. “I have no idea.”

“...wrote their own vows. Mr. Nocturn will be sharing his first.”

Virgil blinks, bringing himself back to the present moment. Remy smiles, knowing exactly what had just happened. His smile warps the decaying flesh on his face a bit, though he doesn’t seem to notice or care. Virgil smiles back, one of his small, secretive smiles, and Remy finally begins speaking.

“Virge, I never thought that I’d ever meet someone like you. Having you in my life has made me so much happier.” He laughs lightly, taking Virgil’s hands. “You know I get lost a lot, but now I’ll only get lost in you, baby. You’re the ice to my latte, the steam to my green tea, the spice to my pumpkin. I couldn’t live without you, even if I wanted to, and I’m so happy that you said yes, babe.” His voice gets softer, his eyes a little misty. “I want to grow old with you. I want to share the covers on winter nights, be your heater when you get cold, have sappy romantic Lady and the Tramp moments with spaghetti dinners, and watch Nightmare before Christmas every night of October. I want to work with you, to grow with you, to laugh and cry with you, because you’re the reason I try. You’re the reason I can laugh and smile, and see the beauty in the world, as well as the dark. Because even if you consider yourself dark and gloomy, you need the darkness to appreciate the light. You complete me, and I can’t wait to finally start living life with you.”

Remy had tears in his eyes, and he was smiling, but he refused to cry. As he would tell Virgil on any given day, crying would totally ruin his mascara. Virgil didn’t know how he did it; he was certain he’d start crying any second. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was happy or scared, though.

“Are you… Are you sure?”

Remy laughed lightly. “Why would I have asked you to marry me if I wasn’t sure?”

Virgil frowns. “Because I’m… Me.”

“I’m not sure I follow, babe.”

Virgil sighs. “I just… Are you sure you wanna be stuck with me for the rest of our lives? I mean…. I’m gloomy. Depressing. I talk about creepy and weird and depressing shit and I’m always in a crappy mood and half the time I don’t even want to talk or leave the house.”

Remy smiles at him sadly. “Babe, I love you because of your faults, not in spite of them.”

“But… how?” How could Remy love the parts of him that even he didn’t like? The parts he wished he could change, or just get rid of? It didn’t make any sense.

“It doesn’t have to make sense,” Remy said, as if he was reading Virgil’s mind. “Feelings hardly ever really make sense, Virge. You taught me that, remember? You don’t have to understand where they come from or why they’re there to be able to accept them. Just like I don’t need to understand my love for you to know that it’s real.”

Virgil could feel the tears building on his lashes. He loved Remy so much, but he was afraid of trapping the other in a marriage he would regret. Virgil knew he wasn’t an easy person to get along with. He knew that eventually Remy would get sick of him, and he couldn’t stand the thought of that. But god, he was selfish. He wanted to know what it’d be like to wake up next to the man he loved and be able to say “my husband” when talking to friends or co-workers. Even if it hurt them both in the long run, he desperately wanted something to hold on to.

Virgil blinked the memory from his vision, the perfect, smiling face of his fiancé being replaced with the grey and decaying version with tears in his eyes. Virgil blinked again and twin tears fell down his cheeks. He hurried to wipe them away, giving a weak, shaky laugh. Their friends watch on with loving smiles as Remy takes his hands and kisses his cheeks where his tears once sat. Virgil takes a few deep breaths, the first one shaky, and looks up at Remy. Remy nods, giving him an encouraging smile. Virgil swallows.

This wasn’t about just him, this was for Remy, too.

“Remy, you’re the only person who doesn’t talk over me or ignore me or get mad and persistent when I disagree. I love that we can talk about anything without losing our love. You appreciate me and I appreciate you, too. I want to spend my life taking care of you and loving you and making you happy, you adorable, fabulous cutie. Thank you for loving me.”

To someone outside of the relationship, Virgil’s vows might sound lackluster. They might sound like he really didn’t care. But Remy knew better. He knew Virgil, and he knew all the things that went unsaid in the way his voice shook and the shine in his eyes. Remy knew just how much love went unspoken behind those words, because his Virgil had never been one for long, rambling soliloquies. Virgil was a man of few words, and if you didn’t know him, you might miss the real meaning.

Thank you for always being there for me, for listening to me. Thank you for always trying to understand me, even when you don’t. Thank you for trying. For never giving up. Thank you for trusting me the way I trust you. I love you, so much, more than words can say, and it means so much to me that you feel the same. I want to always be there for you, to take care of you and love you and hold you when you need me, or even when you don’t but you still want me. I’d do anything to make you happy, just the way you’ve made me happy. I want to make you the happiest man in the world, because that’s what you deserve. Thank you, for everything.

Remy’s tears finally spilled over, pooling in the crevices of the latex on his skin. He was always one for preserving your makeup, but this was his special day and if anyone expected him not to cry then they could shove it where the sun don’t shine. Remy’s smile grew and he squeezed Virgil’s hands, letting his love know that he got the message. He understood, and he loved him, so very much.

The priest smiled warmly, looking to Remy once again. "Remington Bartholomew Nocturn-” Virgil snorted. Remy grimaced. Why did they include his middle name? So old-school. “-do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"  

Remy nods, looking right into Virgil’s eyes with rarely-seen seriousness. “I do.”

The priest nods and looks at Virgil. “And do you, Virgil Andrew Shae, take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

Virgil nods emphatically, more tears falling. His voice cracks as he says, “I do.” He gives Remy a shaky smile, squeezing his hands.

The priest looks at Remy. “Repeat after me.” Remy nods.  “I, Remy, take you, Virgil,”

Remy smiles, feeling a little silly. He quickly schools his expression. “I, Remy, take you, Virgil.”

“To be my husband,”

“To be my husband,” A small laugh escapes him. This was really happening. He was really marrying the love of his life.

“To have and to hold,”

“To have and to hold,”

“From this day forward,”

“From this day forward,”

“For better, for worse,”

“For better, for worse,”

“For richer, for poorer,”

“For richer, for poorer,”

“In sickness and in health,”

“In sickness and in health,”

“To love and to cherish,”

“To love and to cherish,”

“Till death do us part.”

“Til death do us part.” Remy grinned broadly. Virgil rolled his eyes.

The priest has Virgil repeat the vows. “I, Virgil, take you, Remy,”

Virgil bites his lip. “I, Virgil, take you, Remy,”

“To be my husband,”

“To be my husband,”

“To have and to hold,”

“To have and to hold,”

“From this day forward,”

“From this day forward,”

“For better, for worse,”

“For better, for worse,”

“For richer, for poorer,”

“For richer, for poorer,”

“In sickness and in health,”

“In sickness and in health,” God, Remy always was the worst bitcher when he got a cold though.

“To love and to cherish,”

“To love and to cherish,”

“Till death do us part.”

“Til death do us part.” Virgil’s voice comes out choked. Old doubts reared their head; what if he woke up tomorrow and realized this was all a mistake? Or in a year? Five years? Ten?

Remy squeezed his hands, pulling him out of his mind. Virgil looks up at him and sees him mouth ‘I love you’. Virgil smiles and mouths it back, wishing he could just kiss this dumb nerd’s face already. God, he really didn’t deserve him.

“Now, can whomever has the rings step forward and present them to the couple?”

Declan moves forward with the small pillow, holding it out for the pair. Virgil and Declan share a smile, Virgil’s eyes tracing over the sloppily-wrapped, dingy bandages covering his friend from head to foot. Of course he’d be a mummy, why not. He turns back to Remy, fingering the ring in his hand. The metal feels cold, weighted, oppressive-

No. It felt like a promise. A promise to always be there, to always love one another. Virgil smiles.

“Now, Remy, please place the ring on Virgil’s left ring finger and repeat after me: I give you this ring as a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love."

Remy grins, taking Virgil’s left hand and slipping the plain silver band onto his ring finger, making eye contact with him and saying, "I give you this ring as a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love."

“Now Virgil. Place the ring on Remy’s left ring finger and repeat after me: I give you this ring as a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love."

Virgil took Remy’s left hand in his own shaky one, slipping a plain gold band onto his ring finger and saying, "I give you this ring as a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love."

The priest nods. “Please join hands.” Remy and Virgil take each other’s hands, smiling widely. They know what comes next. "By virtue of the authority vested in me under the laws of the State of Florida, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss.”

Remy pulls Virgil close, kissing him deeply. Virgil closes his eyes and melts into it as his friends and family shoot to their feet, all clapping (and in Patton’s case, cheering loudly. Very loudly). They finally pull away after a few seconds, turning to face their loved ones with joined hands. The priest holds his arms out, smiling broadly.

“May I now present to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mr. Shae-Nocturn.”

The reason I wrote a wedding is because, let’s be honest, getting married is one of the scariest things you can do. Also, this is a tribute to mine and my hubby’s Halloween wedding today! He’s the Virgil to my Remy. I love him so much <3

Their vows are actually the vows we wrote, so I had a lot of fun with all of this haha. I hope you all enjoyed this just as much as me. Though October may be over, the adventure never will be. Keep checking in to see what other cool stuff I’m working on! Thank you all so much for the support <3

[myheroacademia-headcanons]

Mod Deku, can you please write a future Bakushima scenario that takes place in the same world as the two Future IzuOcha scenarios you wrote; Katsuki would never him, but he’s jealous of Izuku, they’re the same age but he’s already married with a child, while he and Kirishima are still only dating, and they’ve never talked about kids, be it adopting or a surrogate.

Sorry about taking so long with this, here you go!! - Mod Deku

Lately, Bakugou had been more angry than usual. He had thrown himself into his work, secluded himself from most of his friends and coworkers, even staying away from Kirishima. The redhead couldn't seem to figure out why, nothing had really happened, they hadn't fought or been in any major battles, so there was little explanation to Bakugou’s extra foul mood. Today was their joint day off and Bakugou was doing his damnedest to avoid Kirishima, skirting around him in the kitchen and grumbling any time Kirishima tried to start a conversation. He sighed as Bakugou stomped back to the bedroom, leaving Kirishima to flop on the couch and flip through the channels. A knock interrupted his surfing, quick and anxious followed by a call of his name. 

“Kirishima, please open the door!” He ran over and opened it to see Izuku, hurriedly dressed in his hero costume and holding little Toshi in his arms, who looked ready to cry. 

“I am so so sorry but can you please watch him? There was an explosion downtown and I'm on call and Ochako is at her parent's house for the week and-” 

“Dude, its okay, I got it! Do you want some help down there? Bakugou can go.” Izuku shook his head, passing over Toshi’s diaper bag and a little booklet before handing him the baby. 

“I think they have enough, but ill call if we need it. Are you sure your okay with him?” Kirishima nodded, ruffling Toshi’s fluffy hair. 

“Yeah! Bakugou’s here and i'm pretty sure that this will answer any questions i have.” He grinned and waved around the booklet, which he knew to be instructions and tips for caring for the little baby. 

“Thank you so so much! He just ate so he shouldn't be hungry, his favorite toys and blanky are in the bag, call Ochako if you need anything while I'm busy! I love you Toshi, ill be back soon, I promise!” Izuku rushed off after placing a rushed kiss on his son's forehead, waving to him before leaving. 

“We’re gonna have so much fun, little man! Come on, your uncle Kirishima is gonna give you a super awesome day!” Right on cue, Toshi started bawling in Kirishima’s arms, his tiny hands grasping the redheads shirt. 

“Whoa, hey, its okay! Whats the matter buddy?” Kirishima set down the bag and pulled Toshi to his chest, rubbing his back in little circles and cooing at him. It did nothing, though, the baby still crying loudly. 

“Shitty Hair, what the fuck is that?” Bakugou came out from his room, running a hand through his hair and scowling. 

“Midoriya had an emergency and asked me to watch Toshi, he was fine for a second but then-” 

“Give me the baby, dumbass.” Bakugou sat next to him on the couch and Kirishima gingerly handed Toshi over, the blonde cradling him in one arm while digging through the diaper bag, finally extracting a well-loved bunny toy. Toshi immediately grabbed at it, putting the ear in his mouth and quickly quieting down. 

“Whoa… your so good with him!” 

“Shut up, your going to make him cry again with your loud fucking mouth.” Bakugou pulled out the blanket that was neatly folded and draped it over Toshi, tucking it around him and making sure it was secure. Before long the babies eyes drifted closed and his breathing evened out, body soft in Bakugou’s arms. 

“There… figures Deku’s baby cries as much as he does…” He muttered, leaning back against the cushions carefully. 

“Dude, i've never seen anyone be that good with kids, he stopped crying the second you held him!” 

“I swear to fucking god, if you wake him up-” Kirishima nodded and pulled his legs up, smiling fondly at Toshi. They didn't talk, the television playing quietly as Toshi slept on, a fond look on Bakugou’s face. It was the calmest he had been in over a week and Kirishima was torn between asking what was up and enjoying the moment. Finally, curiosity won him over and he look at his boyfriend, moving a little closer. 

“This is why you were so pissy this week, huh?” 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I haven't been-” 

“Hear me out, okay? You know how you and Midoriya are always kinda competing?” Bakugou rolled his eyes in response, holding his breath as Toshi shifted. But the baby didn't wake up and Kirishima returned to the conversation, finding Bakugou’s free hand. 

“Well, he's kinda winning, in your eyes, isn't he? Married to Uraraka and he has this awesome little baby, and you don't.” 

“I don't fucking care about that shit, it's not my problem they got knocked up…” There wasn't much fire behind his words, his focus more on Toshi as he sucked on the rabbit's ear in his sleep. 

“Yeah, but you want it too, don't you? Ever since the wedding and Toshi being born i can tell, you get more grumpy when their around you and together.” Bakugou sighed, pointedly looking away from Kirishima. 

“Just shut up. It doesn't matter.” 

“It does! I want you to be happy, Bakugou! And if you aren't then, dude, you need to tell me!” Bakugou moved Toshi to Kirishima’s arms and got up, walking off and slamming the door, waking the baby up. He didn't cry immediately but his eyes teared up and little hiccups threatened to grow louder, Kirishima swaddling him messily and bouncing him softly. 

“Hey, your okay little buddy, don't cry! Bakugou didn't mean to wake you up, he just got a little worked up. Do you wanna go see him again? Do you wanna go see uncle Katsuki, hmm?” Toshi seemed to make a pleased noise and Kirishima got up, swinging him around a little before going to the closed bedroom door. 

“Toshi misses his uncle Katsuki, dude! Come on man, don't shut me out!” Bakugou sighed and Kirishima tried the door, finding it unlocked and stepping inside. Toshi babbled a little to himself, not paying any attention as Kirishima sat on the bed. 

“Yeah, okay, fine. Maybe i'm… maybe i want a fucking brat running around, alright? Maybe seeing Deku and his happy fucking family and his perfect baby and his amazing life piss me off. I don't fucking know.” Bakugou was laying down, facing away until wet fabric touched his cheek. 

“Ew, what the-” Bakugou sat up, finding that Toshi’s bunny had fallen. He returned it and Toshi grabbed his finger by mistake but refused to let go. 

“Here, you hold him, he loves you!” Bakugou rolled his eyes but took the little bundle, who seemed more than happy to be there. 

“So… you want a family, then? A kid? I mean, the anatomy doesn't work but there are totally ways for it! And I mean, if you want to get married-” 

“Don't you dare fucking propose right now, asshole. Yeah, I want that shit, but don't just fucking do it to make me happy or whatever.” Kirishima smiled, leaning in and kissing Bakugou sweetly. 

“I want it to, you know? I just didn't want to, like, scare you off with baby talk and stuff, I didn't want to lose you…” 

“I'm not going anywhere, Eijirou, would I fucking be here, holding Deku’s friggin kid and talking sappy shit with you if I was going to ditch you?” Kirishima kissed him in response, pulling away when Toshi started to cry softly. 

“Awww, he's jealous of me taking your attention!” 

“Shut the fuck up, dumbass, he's not even one yet, he's probably tired again or something. And what the hell is this, its a mess!” Bakugou laid Toshi on the bed and swaddled him properly, finding that he immediately settled down when he was wrapped up.

“You know, hes gonna start cursing back at you if you keep talking like that around him.” 

“Hes too young, it doesnt matter what he hears at this point!” Bakugou rolled his eyes and got comfortable, rocking Toshi gently as he started to doze off. Kirishima joined him, head on Bakugou shoulder and watching as the baby fought sleep, his eyes slowly closing before trying to open again, a losing battle. That was how Izuku found them a couple hours later, asleep cuddled together, Toshi still with a tight grip on Bakugou, who woke up when he heard the bedroom door open. 

“Hey, Kacchan, was he good?” 

“He cries like you do, damn Deku. But he was asleep most of the time, didnt cause any problems or shit.” Izuku nodded, having picked up the diaper bag already. He looked exhausted and messy, certainly in no condition to be bring Toshi home. 

“Look, hes fucking asleep right now, you should just go shower or something, i guess.” 

“You sure?” Bakugou nodded, adjusting his hold on Toshi. 

“Your a fucking mess, you’ll just get the brat dirty.” Izuku rolled his eyes but nodded gratefully, leaving the bag by the bed and disappearing to shower. 

“You know, you arent half bad for being Deku’s spawn, you little shit.” Bakugou let his eyes fall back closed, not noticing Kirishima’s little smile as he let himself enjoy the moment for a little while longer.

[autobot-ratchet]

whoa dang it’s some sappy feelings bullshit look out

man for the past few days I have just been completely floored by how much I love MTMTE/Lost Light lmAO like I know I already wrote a post and even drew a picture about how it (and Rodimus in particular) has pulled me out of a really bad, almost life threatening depression spiral but like. fuck man it really did that lmAO

I mean not that I’m like. “cured” or that I now have the energy and drive to completely fix my life and be totally happy forever now but like

I started reading this comic back in 2014 and during the past four years I’ve been put through so much horrible traumatic garbage that I’m honestly still not truly over (not to mention some of the garbage I went through just before I got into tfs) and it really just wore me down until I lost all confidence in myself and motivation to draw or live or do anything lmAO it just got really bad

and tbh fandom didn’t help lmAO in fact fandom kind of made it worse what with the callouts and drama and character/plot analysis posts that lowkey (or sometimes highkey lmao) called you a piece of shit for not interpreting things the same was the op did and like. in my early years of tf fandoming, I kinda took it seriously lmAO

like I genuinely thought I was too stupid to properly understand the media I consume because these people were so aggressive and guilt-trippy like “no this character or pairing or what have you is PROBLEMATIC and if you like it you’re CONDONING UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS and ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR”

or the opposite, “no this character is actually GOOD and MISUNDERSTOOD and jro is a HORRIBLE EVIL MONSTER for not giving them a redemption arc and so are all of you for not seeing how they’ve been so WRONGED”

and because they were so passionate (aggressive) about it, I figured they must be right (agreed with them because I was scared of them coming after me)

so like. as the comic went on and those people turned out to be wrong about more and more things and my interpretations and predictions turned out to be right about more and more things, it really made me realize that

1. maybe I’m not so stupid after all and could even defend my opinions if it came down to it and

2. a lot of those essays that try to guilt you for not having the same opinions as the op are actually the op projecting so hard onto a character that it has warped their perception of them which now clashes with the canon version of said character, and that’s what they’re REALLY mad about (but of course they express it by insisting that everyone else is the wrong one lmao)

and like. I’m kinda mad about that lmAO like at one point, around when lost light started, it got to the point where I was letting other peoples (bad) opinions and (incorrect) analysis essays convince me that the comic was actually bad and that at best I’m stupid and have bad taste for liking it, and that at worst I’m a horrible person for condoning such problematic content like. y’all almost took away my enjoyment of one of the best things to happen to me in a long time fuck you guys lmAO this is a good comic and I’m a competent person and y’all can die mad about it

so this comic has seriously helped me get some of my mojo back in the confidence department by just. being well written and by me being able to follow it properly regardless of what randos try to yell at me, but it’s also really just. made me want to live again lmAO

like LL24 and even 25 have really helped me kind of stop being (as) hard on myself and even though the bad ending was really fuckin sad and hurt a lot (Rodimus in particular just. ouch man I’ve been lying awake at night over that one for days), the good ending where they just keep going forever really was everything for me lmAO

I know a lot of people don’t like it, like it’s not good enough for them because they don’t get to see any of the happy new universe while we DID have to see the sad one but. I dunno, something about the fact that it’s just left completely open really does it for me, like “we don’t know where they’re gonna go from here but I don’t know where I’m gonna go from where I’m at either so we’re the same, maybe I can be as happy as they are during my own journey because, like LL24 told me, I’m good enough”

so. yeah. it’s been a hell of a ride and I’ll cherish this comic and the experience its given me forever, transformers is absolutely gonna be one of those things I’m just gonna love for life from now on lmAO like I’m so excited for new content, official or fan made, fuck yeah y’all, we achieved something