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downtonabbeyrevisited · 3 years

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Season Two Episode Four

A 1918 timestamp ushers us into one of Downton’s more slow moving episodes where three parts painful banality has been mixed with one part life-or-death peril.

Providing more interesting political and cultural conflict than WW1 (at least at Downton) is Isobel’s ongoing grating at Cora’s very soul. Cora has had the temerity to ensure that the staff don’t collapse on their feet and has done something with the linen that I can’t quite fathom which, of course, Isobel takes as a slight upon her medical knowledge. Isobel makes the fatal error of calling Cora’s bluff threatening to ‘seek some other place’ if she is not appreciated at Downton. Major Clarkson also takes sides with Cora and Isobel now has no choice but to throw herself and her messiah complex upon the Red Cross in Northern France. I am sure they will be thrilled.

With Isobel’s departure, Moseley and Mrs Bird find themselves at a loss having deep cleaned the house and moaned about their employer’s eating habits. Turns out that one thing they forgot to do was deploy any semblance of a security system as a random man with a drama school limp wanders into the house looking for food. In a manner that would make the current Conservative front bench recoil with horror, Mrs Bird starts up a soup kitchen out of her own (presumably rather small) pocket. In her latest attempt to not do her job, Mrs Patmore drags Daisy out for some fresh air and in the process uncovers this particular bit of well meaning but financially unsustainable charity. Mrs Patmore scales up the operation, creating a “special storage area” to squirrel away surplus from the army’s stock, which O’Brien conveniently overhears (but to be honest, it’s not that much of a coincidence. I imagine most of the kitchen heard it considering that Mrs Patmore practically yelled it). In an effort to try and inject a bit of actual drama into this episode, O’Brien reports this to Mrs Hughes but (un)fortunately, Mrs Hughes could not care less. But after watching the world’s most appalling secret handover of goods in the village, O’Brien rallies and this time is successful in bringing Cora to the nefariously compassionate Bird-Patmore coalition. To absolutely everyone’s surprise (viewers included) Cora orders food to be taken from the house stock rather than army and with all the over-confidence of a consultant sets about re-arranging tables and streamlining the workflow.

Feeling much less charitable than Mrs Bird, Moseley heads to the Abbey and attempts to make himself indispensable and reach the dizzying heights of ‘Valet to the Earl of Grantham’. But not long after the peels of laughter that such a notion invites have died down, Bates returns and takes Mr Molesley’s shoehorn which one can’t help but think is emblematic of something. The return of Mr Bates is, naturally, a painfully protracted process that involves key protagonists not talking to each other, Thomas smoking on a wall, and the obligatory invocation of Kamal Pamuk. Robert invites Bates back to help him through the ‘veil of shadow’ and as such I was intrigued to learn that he is a World of Warcraft devotee. Bates reappearance downstairs also allows for the return of two other key Downton Abbey tropes: Anna and (John)Bates having a heart to heart under the cover of darkness, and Thomas and O’Brien’s irrational loathing/scapegoating of Britain’s most infuriatingly lovelorn character (outside of Thomas Thorne) to resume with aplomb.

Less happy to be within the confines of the Abbey is Edith who continues to signal that all of this is really a bit beneath her (certain elements quite literally). Ever the teacher’s pet, Mr Molesley reports the sighting of an Officer by the maid’s staircase to Mrs Hughes who hears that there have been lots of rumours on the timeline tonight and comes out to say that she does not live in a sack. Unfortunately, Major Bryant does not live in one but definitely frequents one and, as such, it is of course Ethel is dismissed. As she rapidly packs all her belongings, Anna pleas to Mrs Hughes on her behalf confirming that she is indeed the friend we all want but probably don’t deserve. But Mrs Hughes can’t get rid of her that easily as Edith (and passenger) skulk back to liven up the end of the episode with news of an oncoming baby *Eastenders drums intensify*.

Talking of undeserving relationships, Sybil and Branson receive more air-time than usual, providing the latter the opportunity to demonstrate that at times he really can be a muppet. And a slightly malevolent one at that. Sybil is firmly under the cosh this week with Violet making thinly veiled references to inappropriate alliances and Mary asking probing questions whilst she tries to get on with her job. Mary thinks that she has spotted her sister and Branson having some kind of romantic exchange but in reality, all that she has seen from afar is Branson telling Sybil that she is in love with him which when you think about it, is all kinds of awful and hardly the basis for a healthy relationship. After a long walk through the grounds where I am half expecting Branson to appear on a horse Willoughby-style, Sybil eventually caves and confesses to Mary that she doesn’t know if she likes Branson despite his eminently creepy voice over. Sybil then relays her sororal confidence and rather than taking this as an opportunity to ingratiate himself, Branson for whatever reason attempts to coerce Sybil into a relationship but not before he belittles her job. Sybil looks rightfully outraged as some equally emotionally manipulative strings wail in the background in an attempt to try and make us think that anything that has just happened was evenly slightly dreamy.

Threaded through this glacially paced episode has been the looming threat of a both a concert and the death of Matthew and (to a much lesser extent because that is how class works) William. In an effort to break the monotony of walking around the exact same bit of French trench (see previous re-caps for further details), William and Matthew take to wandering across some largely unadulterated land and into the path of some nonchalant Germans. Daisy’s lack of (presumably fawning) letters from William starts off a chain of enquiry which confirms that the War Office has declared Matthew and William missing enabling Mary to once again deploy her signature move: weeping into her gloves. But only one hand this time because she needs to keep a bit of composure for the show must go on! Apparently. Following some abysmal piano playing (I grew up in an appallingly musical household and we all had to endure the torture of other people at the early stages of learning an instrument. It was of course blissful when we got good but, heck, I was thrown straight back to the horror of it all with that ‘accompaniment’ and had an odd sort of stress response which I won’t describe here), Mary and Edith do a rendition of If You Were the Only Girl (In the World) as everyone looks on stony-faced before participating in the millenia’s most morose sing-a-long. With a very good sense of drama, Matthew and (to a much lesser extent) William make their return. Matthew takes his place at Mary’s side and joins in the signing to what is now presumably quite a bewildered audience. Ah, Downton.

Romantic declaration of the moment

Violet raises reasonable concerns about Richard Carlisle but Mary is more interested in expanding her real estate portfolio and agrees to throw her lot in with a fiscal agreement disguised as a marriage. Upon his ‘miraculous’ return, Matthew gives the union his blessing on the condition that Richard remains deserving. Not that he ever really was. But the sentiment is what matters here and what is more loving* than putting another’s presumed happiness before your own.

*there are actually a lot of other more loving things but in the interest of formatting, we’re going to sweep those under a very large rug for now.

Expressive eyebrow of the week

Rather than training as a nurse or being actually pretty useful in a convalescent home, Mary’s contribution to the war effort is being amicable with Edith. Violet declares that she has now “seen everything” as the spirit of Mrs Adelman moves on.

Wait, what?

“I wish we had a man” Presented without comment

“If I am not appreciated here, I will seek some other place” Yes. PLEASE.

“What must he do to persuade you he is in love with Lavinia? Open his chest and carve her name on his heart” No, Mary. Matthew merely needs to carve her name with a compass on his forehead to prove that…

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“I hate the word ‘missing’. It leaves so much room for optimism.” Robert is a bit emotionally weird isn’t he?

“We haven't kissed or anything. I don't think we've shaken hands. I'm not even sure if I like him like that. He says I do, but I'm still not sure.” And lo, another red flag is raised. But because Branson is Downton’s version of a Bolshevik, both Mary and Sybil view this not as a warning about the boy’s behaviour but rather a symbol of his political leanings and such signals are duly ignored.

“He always seems a romantic figure to me” Daisy Robinson writes fanfic. Pass it on.

“Sometimes in war, one can make friendships that aren't quite…appropriate. And can be awkward, you know, later on. I mean, we've all done it.” Once again, Violet, tell us more!

Bates says that he has returned to “Downton at war” which sounds like a lucrative exhibition name if I ever did hear one.

Despite Mary’s most valiant efforts, no musical performance had ever gone out to such an impassive audience until Rosalind came along

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Matthew of course is used to a much better quality sing-, sorry, song-a-long

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#Downton #downton abbey #downton rewatch #Mary Crawley #Matthew Crawley #thomas barrow #thomas branson #mrs o'brien #Mrs Patmore #daisy mason #william mason #Cora Crawley #Lady Grantham #lord grantham #john bates #Joseph Molseley #anna bates #Youtube

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chuuyasnumber1simp · 3 years

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Toxic- Dazai x GN! Reader

warnings: mentions of suicide, aftermath of attempted suicide, depictions of violence and torture, kidnapping, brief mentions of self harm, Dazai being toxic and borderline emotionally abusive but he has a reason, he’s a little emotionally stunted, general angst, a good ending but you have to work for it

word count: 4213

Dazai hated this time of year.

Summer was a season he oh so despised, sick of the uncomfortably hot weather that prompted people to ask why he was wearing so many layers in July.

He was sick of the pitied glances and confused faces as he strolled around Yokohama, adorning his usual trench coat and bandages.

But the one thing that made this season more bearable, was watching your face as you enjoyed all the summer activities. He couldn’t quite pin point when he started falling for you, but he did know it was around the same time he started pretending not to hate summer.

Dazai was a man of mystery, and preferred to stay that way (though deep down he wanted someone he could bare his soul with, but alas they always scurried away when he revealed the shattered pieces of his heart) yet you persisted in trying to crack him open, trying to see the real person behind the acting.

Yes, much to Dazai’s surprise, you figured out his profound talent for acting just weeks into your job at the ADA, and since attempted to see his real personality. Unfortunately, Dazai was always acting, even when he was not. Most of his life he has devoted to perfecting that act, his role, and not one single person has seen through all of the acting, all of the masks he wears. Everyday he wakes up, he climbs his tired and battered body upon that stage, and begins his act again. He has done this as long as he’s known, and he has no reason or desire to stop.

That is, until he met you.

Despite you only being able to see through his outermost mask, you’ve always understood him better than most people. Maybe that’s what drew him to you in the first place, the way you seemed at ease in his presence, seemingly ignoring his past and even present actions. He was enamored by your personality, and soon he too felt happier when you were around. He took this into account when you approached him after work, nervously ringing your hands together, refusing to meet his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you slightly stuttered the words he didn’t realize he wanted to hear so badly.

“Will y-you go out with me? I know you don’t really do dates, with the whole double suicide thing, and if you don’t feel the same about me that’s fine, I just really like being around you and your hot so I was just wondering—“

He silenced you by planting a soft kiss against your lips, hoping it conveyed what he hoped.

“Does that answer your question?”

The months after that were happy, a white spot on his relatively bleak life. You brightened his day when you entered the room, and he loved the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed.

Yet, he still could not find a reason to stop the attempts to end his own life.

He loved you, god he was sure of it by this point, but when he stripped of his bandages and held a razor to his wrist, your face did not flash in his mind.

When he leaned over the edge of a bridge, your smile did not make him hesitate, though he wished it did.

He was angry, angry at himself for not loving you enough, and angry at you, in some twisted way, for not being enough.

Dazai was confused, confused about why he was angry at you, and confused about why you weren’t enough of a reason to stop himself every time he tried to commit suicide.

For once, Dazai Osamu had a problem.

and he had absolutely no idea how to fix it.

...............................................................................................

This was really annoying situation.

This was your third hostage situation in a month, and honestly you were getting sick of it. You really didn’t know how you kept getting in these situations, although it wasn’t all that surprising considering your line of work.

Your coworkers -yourself included- often found themselves in situations not unlike this one, though theirs, especially poor Atsushi’s, were usually more severe.

Another day, another migraine.

This time, you were slightly afraid, just because the men here this time were more serious. The way they conducted this situation was less like a robbery plus hostages, and more like a search.

Like they were looking for someone.

This part concerned you, because who exactly could they be looking for? This was just a simple grocery store, and you doubted they received enough money to warrant the type of people these men were. Petty thieves? sure. Gang members that possessed impressive weapons? It was unusual to say the least.

Currently, they had you all lined up against the wall of the vegetable section, hands zip tied behind your back. Your unusual ability -dream manipulation- would not help you here. In fact, it usually help you at all, but you weren’t concerned about that right now.

You were concerned about why these men were asking every persons name, and what they would do once they got to you.

One of the men, tall and imposing, sporting all black and a ski mask, plus military grade boots stopped in front of you.

“Name,”

You swallowed thickly. “Why do you need that?”

No sooner had the words life your mouth did you feel the boot connect with your abdomen- and not in a nice way. You coughed harshly, a little blood dribbling out of the corner of your mouth.

“Name,”

You spit the blood onto his boot, Dazai’s defiant personality must have rubbed off on you a bit.

“I’m not giving it until you tell me why,”

You weren’t stupid- you worked at the Armed Detective Agency, and people like this don’t ask for names unless their lookin for someone, usually someone who’s ‘wronged’ them. Being in the ADA had given you a lot of friends, but also a lot of enemy’s. Being the s/o of a former mafia executive didn’t really help either.

This time, the boot met your face, throwing you directly backwards into the carrots. The feeling of cold metal on your forehead and a clicking sound net your ears, and you looked up.

“I’m going to ask one more time before I’ll have to get a little messy. What. Is. Your. Name,”

“Elvis Presley,”

You regretted your choice instantly, as the gun went off directly into your thigh. You screamed, bullet wounds were always more painful then other wounds you got on the job.

where was the police? where was Dazai?

pain made it difficult to think straight, but you surmised that giving your name would be your best bet in this situation. You were most likely whoever they were looking for, and you didn’t want to endanger the innocent hostages.

“Y/N L/N. That’s my name,”

The man roughly grabbed your arm and hauled you to your feet, dragging you away from the other hostages.

“Yeah, we got the right person. Come on, let’s get out of here before the good ol boyfriend comes along,”

A bag was placed over your head, and you were thrown into the back of what you assumed was a van. Your injury’s weren’t that severe, yet the pain was unrelenting. It seemed to increase the longer you had them, though you didn’t know why.

“I bet your wondering why your in more pain then you were a bit ago,”

a man who’s voice you didn’t recognize spoke once the van came to halt, and it set you on edge.

“That would be the handy work of my ability, which i must say, comes in handy in my line of work. I can make one injury, one tiny little paper cut hurt like a thousand knives are stabbing you,”

As he explained his ability, the pain increasingly got worse, until you were writhing on the van floor, tears streaking down your face. Eventually, it stopped, and you sagged in momentary relief, only to be dragged out of the van.

You were about to slip into a pain filled unconsciousness when the sting of a taser brought you back. You jerked and screamed, just wishing it to all be over.

“Ah ah ah,” the man with the pain ability spoke again. “We’re gonna need you conscious for all of this. It’ll be more fun for me, and more painful for you!”

“Why,” you said, voice already hoarse from the events of today. “What did I do,”

“It’s not really what you did, but more like what Dazai did,”

..........................................................................

Dazai stood outside a warehouse, guilt and fear consuming him. His breaths were short and fast, and he could feel himself spiraling.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, you didn’t do anything, it’s my fault, god i am so STUPID—

“Dazai,”

Kunikida’s voice brought him away from his darkening thoughts, and Dazai tried to calm himself. Having a panic attack would not help the situation.

“Y/N is not helpless. I’m sure whatever this people have done, they’ll be fine,”

While Dazai wanted to believe his partner, he knew this specific group was known for their intense torture methods, because of their leaders ability. Dazai knew that the Port Mafia took down the majority of their organization, and he’d been tasked with breaking their leader, Takahashi Watanabe, and he did it through torturing and then murdering his fiancé. Dazai grimaced internally, the things he did in the Port Mafia usually did come back to bite him. He just wished they would leave you out of it.

This wasn’t the first time you had been dragged into grudges between Dazai and his old victims, and the guilt he felt about it had been building for some time now.

After deciding on a plan, Kunikida would take out the guards while trying to make as little noise as possible, and Dazai would enter, take down whoever was inside, and get you out. Kunikida would join him once he was done with the guards.

Kunikida’s ability came in handy at times like these, and although he did not show it, Dazai appreciated the strict man.

While Kunikida made quick work of the guards, Dazai slipped into a no longer protected entrance, and quietly surveyed the area.

Dazai had seen many things, he’d done many things, but absolutely nothing could have prepared him for your beaten and bleeding body, chained up against a wall, the ring leader standing in front of you.

Every time Takahashi flicked his wrist, you would start writhing in pain screaming out to whoever would hear you.

Dazai couldn’t stomach any more of his lover being tortured right in front of him, so he rushed out from his hiding place and punched him in the back of his head, feeling his own fingers fracture and pop at the force.

“That’s enough of that now,”

Takahashi was stupid, and left all of his men to guard the entrances, leaving no one actually inside the building but himself and you. Dazai undid the chains, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, sobbing loudly into his chest.

“I thought I was going to die, it was so painful—“

“I know,” Dazai ran his non injured hand through your hair, rubbing circles in your back with the other. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here fast enough,”

“It’s okay,”

Although you told him it was okay, Dazai could not ignore the pit of guilt gnawing away at his insides. Every time this happened the guilt got stronger, taking over his mind, the thoughts of you being better off without him filled his mouth and head, choking him with all the softness of ash. He’d debated breaking up with you for months, not because he no longer loved you, but because the less you were attached to him, the less likely you were to be dragged into these situations.

Takahashi was the final straw, so while Kunikida drove the car that held you and Dazai back to the agency, Dazai silently made up his mind that it would be easier for you to break up with him if you hated him. Though it pained him to think of no more soft mornings with you by his side, or quiet nights where he wakes up heaving and your there to comfort him, he knows that you’ll be better, happier without him.

..........................................................................

Yosano healed you quickly, as Dazai waited nervously outside the door, swollen and purple fingers throbbing. You came out looking good as new, though Dazai doubted you had mentally and emotionally recovered at all.

He walked you back to the apartment, assuring you that Kunikida would let the both of you off easy this once, considering the day you’ve had.

And for once, Dazai was quiet.

The walk was quiet, and not in a good way. You were inside your own head, reeling from the events of today, and Dazai was mentally preparing himself for the conversation he was about to have with you upon arriving at your apartment.

“Ugh,” You collapsed on the couch, not even changing out of your bloody and filthy clothes before wrapping yourself in a blanket.

Dazai felt his heart twist as you looked up at him with your big e/c eyes, and knew what he was going to do would hurt you. And for that, he internally apologized.

“Dazai? Is something wrong? you’ve been quiet ever since we left the agency. You didn’t even joke when Atsushi fell asleep in a cupboard again,”

“I’m breaking up with you,”

You scoffed. “Yeah right. Come on, what’s really bothering you?”

“No I’m serious,” He willed his eyes to remain cold, and hoped his face showed no sign of emotion. “I don’t love you, and to be honest I’m not sure I ever did. It was a nice thought, our relationship, but really, I just wanted to see how long I could take this with you,”

Your eyes were filled with confusion and hurt, and he saw tears prick the corners of your eyes.

“W-What?”

“Ah, did poor little Y/N think I really loved them? Or were you just projecting your emotions onto me, like you always do,”

The hurt in your eyes turned to anger. “You know what? Go to hell. If you think you can just play with my emotions and lead me on for five months, then I never want to see you again,”

“That’s the spirit!” Dazai snapped his fingers.

Stop.

“Were you lying then? This whole time, was it all a lie?”

The bandage covered brunette rolled his eyes. “Duh,”

Your hurting them. Stop it.

You wiped the tears from your eyes, then stood up and met him with a cold stare.

“I hope your next suicide is a success you monster,”

You walked out of the apartment with your head held high, though he knew you, so he knew you would probably head to Yosano’s place, and breakdown there. Maybe even Atsushi’s, if you really felt sad.

When he watched you slam the door, it all hit him, that you were gone, and he’d done it on purpose.

He’d ruined the only good thing he had in life, so now, once more, Dazai Osamu was alone.

..........................................................................

If Dazai hadn’t hated himself before, he definitely did now.

When he walked into work the next day, Atsushi slapped him. Hard.

Atsushi, of all people, had slapped Dazai.

The entire agency stopped, save for Ranpo, as Dazai lifted a hand to the growing red mark on his cheek.

“How dare you,” Atsushi started, eyes wild, tiger fur starting to grow from his arms. “Be an absolute dick to Y/N. You lead them on for five months Dazai, and then had the audacity to break it off after they got tortured? Because of how disgusting of a person you were? No, let me correct myself, how much of a disgusting person you are. If it were up to me, I’d fire you from the agency, and ship you back to the Port Mafia, since your so keen on being a monster!”

Dazai could feel his façade crumbling, and he felt the shocked and outright disgusted looks of his coworkers.

“If I were you,” Yosano spoke very quietly. “I would leave while you still have your life. You being immune to my ability will not stop me from slicing your entire body into pieces if you don’t leave and go back to whatever sewer you crawled out of,”

Dazai took his cue and left, letting his façade break when he hears you sniffle next to Kenji. Eyes downcast, Dazai whispers something so quiet not even Atsushi’s enhanced hearing could detect it.

“I’m sorry,”

..........................................................................

Dazai didn’t get out of bed for three days.

He couldn’t even sleep, dreams of you being tortured was all he saw whenever he closed his eyes. The memory of your face as he ripped apart your heart forever ingrained in his mind, a testimony to his treachery.

He wept bitterly, aware that all of your suffering he was the cause of. He was no doubt fired from his job, Fukuzawa was a kind and patient man, but he would not allow this kind of plain heartlessness. He’d known what kind of man Dazai was when he applied for a job at the ADA, but Dazai knew no amount of kindness could forgive what he’d done to you.

He dragged himself into the living room, turning on the tv, hoping to distract himself from his thoughts.

He flicked through the channels, then almost dropped the remote when he saw the report.

“The Armed Detective Agency building is currently on fire, Detectives Kunikida, Ranpo, and their coworkers have all exited the building safely, but Detective L/N is still inside. Due to their injury’s, the remaining detectives have not been permitted to re-enter the building to save Detective L/N, leaving all of us to pray they make it out alive. Their healer, Yosano, is out on a business trip, so all we can do is put our faith in modern medicine,”

Dazai ran out the door before the news reporter had even finished speaking, throwing on shoes and sprinting the the office. Luckily, he lived close enough to get there in ten minutes, and he spared no time ducking under the police tape.

“Dazai! Stop!” Kunikida yelled at him from beside a fire truck, and several firemen and policemen tried to stop him. He flashed his ADA badge -thank god he brought it with him- and dashed inside the burning building.

He choked on the heavy smoke, coughing heavily.

“Y/N! Where are you!”

He climbed the stairs, ignoring the burns of the flames that licked his arms and legs.

He burst into the office, fire consuming the room. He jumped over some fire that had spread across the floor, looking under each desk. Finally, under Ranpo’s desk, you were curled up clutching a stack of files.

“D-Dazai?” Soot covered your face, and he could hear your lungs heaving.

“I know I’m the last person you want to see right now, but your going to die if you stay in here,”

Carrying you bridal style, he ran out of the room, but stopped because the stairs down to the last level had completely caved in. It wasn’t too far to jump, by the only thing that greeted the both of you were bright orange flames.

He looked out the window beside you two, wasting no time to punch the glass, not caring about the shards stuck in his knuckles, before looking down at your form. You couldn’t longer see the rise and fall of your chest, and almost screamed.

“This might hurt,”

He leapt out the window, clutching you close to him, tucking and rolling so he took the brunt of the damage. With a sickening crunch, his shoulder popped out of its socket, but he didn’t care, he laid your lifeless form on the pavement, and began CPR.

“Someone get me an ambulance!” He yelled, never stopping chest compressions. His arms ached, his dislocated shoulder screaming at him to stop.

“Come on Y/N, wake up!” He screamed, tears making streak marks on his grime covered his face. He was vaguely aware of a medic running over to him, he could barley see past the blur of his own tears.

The medic gently took you away from him, and he held his face in his hands, sobbing. Atsushi crouched down besides him, but Dazai didn’t care. He didn’t care that anyone watching could see him cracking and breaking, he just wanted to know if you were okay.

“Why are you upset? I thought you didn’t love her?”

Dazai stood up. “I lied. I was stupid, and I lied, because don’t you see,” he turned to Atsushi, aware of the manic look he must have in his eyes. “She’s better off without me. She keeps getting injured because of my disgusting past. You said it yourself, I’m a monster,”

“Dazai—“ Atsushi started.

“Y/N is gone, and all of this is my fault,”

No one knew what to do, they’d never seen Dazai show this much emotion, they’d never seen his faces break, never seen him this broken.

Kenji was the only to move, the only to step towards the form of the crumbling man before them.

“Do you love them?”

“Yes. I really do. Now I’m scared I’ll never get to tell them again,”

Kenji motioned to Kunikida, and Dazai’s partner stepped toward him.

“Your truly an idiot Dazai. Don’t you think Y/N knew what they were getting into when they started dating you?”

“Well I don’t know, but I didn’t want them to get hurt anymore so I—“

“And therein lies your issue. You made a decision for them, without even asking their thoughts. Now you’ve caused pain for the both of you, and you may never get to apologize. Although I’m positive Y/N will make it out of this, i think you should go to the hospital to be there when they wake up,”

Dazai simply nodded once, taking in Kunikida’s words, then walked in the direction of the hospital. Kunikida was right. He is stupid. But hopefully, not too stupid for you.

He must’ve looked so dumb, walking into your hospital room, nervously ringing his hands together, not unlike you did when you asked him out.

“Dazai? What are you doing here?”

“Um, I kind of wanted to apologize. For being a monster,” his voice hitched on the last word, and he hoped you didn’t notice.

“Well? I’m waiting. Just because you saved my life doesn’t mean i don’t resent you for what you said,”

“I know I just...” Dazai took a deep breath before continuing.

“I’ve hated myself for a long time, that’s no mystery. But when we were together, it made all the pain go away. Even if it was just for a moment, it felt good. But, I lied to you. I’m stupid and I lied to you. I thought if you hated me, it’d be easier for you to get over me. I was wrong, but please understand,” he took your hand in his. “I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t love you. It’s the opposite. I love you, a lot, but you keep getting dragged into messes and horrible situations because of how much of a horrible person I was. How much of a horrible person I am,” Dazai hated the way his voice had started to wobble, but he kept going. “Y/N, I’m so sorry I told you all those things. I’m so sorry I broke up with you, and I’m sorry for how much my past has put you through. If you still never want to see me again, I understand, and I’ll leave now,” At this point, tears were quietly slipping down his cheeks, splattering on your hand that was held by Dazai’s. “Sorry,”

You locked Dazai with a hard gaze. “I haven’t fully forgiven you just yet. Breaking up with me over something that could have been discussed was stupid of you,”

Dazai nodded, turning to leave the room.

“But,”

But?

You continued softly. “Someone who doesn’t love me wouldn’t jump out of a burning building and perform CPR that saved my life. I don’t think your a monster, and I don’t think your a horribly person. A little dumb yeah, and definitely not perfect, but you know,”

He turned back to face you, hope rising in his chest.

“I think that’s why I fell in love with you. Because of the person you are underneath, the person you are underneath all that acting,”

Despite you still being injured, you wobbled over to his shaking form.

“So, Dazai Osamu, I’m willing to give you a second chance. Provided you vow to try to stop committing suicide, because it hurt when you did it. It hurt to know that I wasn’t enough to keep you here. And next time, let’s talk about stuff okay?”

He nodded mutely, and you opened your arms.

“Come here,”

He wasted no time hugging you tight, shamelessly crying. Tears of sadness, tears of joy whatever they were, Dazai didn’t care.

Because Dazai had finally found his reason for living.

Hi this is self indulgent nd i wrote it on my phone. Its a vent sorta, i kinda want one of my comfort characters to hug me rn :))))) messed up family life amiright guys

#dazai #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader

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writingglade · 4 years

Text

TMR Imagine #3

Title; He Had Love | Part Two

Pairing; Newt x Reader

Request; None

Warnings; Mild angst, alternate universe, the butterfly effect

Words; 1923

Summary; No one thought that once you’d escaped the maze that this was the life you’d live.

Requests are open | Masterlist

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

You squint, opening your eyes only to be blinded by the blazing sun. The static ringing in your ears tunes in to the sound of voices as your eyes adjust. A soft accent sticks out among the rest, though you can’t quite place just where it was from, perhaps England? You weren’t all to sure.

A sandy head of hair pops into your vision as the floor beneath you rattles. Whoever it is squints, face scrunching up slightly as he turns his head up and to the side. His lips part for a moment, though nothing leaves them. The ground rattles once more, leaving you to assume whoever it was that jumped into the pit you found yourself in was larger than the blonde.

A harsh voice meets your ears, “What the shuck?”

A soft tut pulls your attention away from the anger in the voice, a hand outstretching towards you, “Let’s get you up, alright Greenie?”

Greenie? What the hell was a Greenie? You reluctantly take the blonde’s outstretched hand, ready to yank him to the ground and pin him if he tried anything. He seems to notice this through the tenseness in your arm, he chuckles.

“Hey,” he speaks softly, a smile forming on his face, “I’m not gonna hurt you. None of us are.”

He seems to think for a moment before looking off to his side, where a noticeably more muscular guy stood. “Well, Gally here might but I’ll try my best to ensure he doesn’t. Alright, love?”

You furrow your eyebrows at the name. First Greenie, now Love? The blonde releases his hand from yours after giving it a reassuring squeeze. The muscular man—Gally—huffs, scrunching his nose before practically stomping over.

“Come on she-bean, let’s get a move on.” He grabs ahold of your upper-arm, roughly pulling you to your feet.

You ignore the pain left from his calloused grip, annoyance showing on your features. “I have a name you know.”

Gally seems amused, huffing a laugh through his nostrils that disgustingly flare as he does so. He folds his arms, looking to you with a condescending smirk.

“Do you now? Alright, Greenie, what’s this name of yours then?” He appears rather smug as he asks, a look that makes you want to punch him straight in his ugly nose.

“My name is—” Wait a minute... What was your name? “I— My name—”

Gally lets out a triumphant laugh, taking a step forward and jabbing a finger into your chest. “That’s what I thought, Greenie.”

“Gally,” The blonde begins to warn, though you're already reeling back your arm. “That’s eno—”

Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to recalculate your aim after the blonde shoved Gally away. Your fist connects with his cheek and he staggers back, a hand immediately flying to his now red cheek.

“Bloody hell,” He groans, massaging his sore cheek. “you pack one hell of a punch, Love.”

He doesn’t seem mad, oddly enough. Rather, he simply laughs, scowling as Gally busts into a fit of cackling laughter. You draw in a deep breath, pivoting on your heel before careening your fist into his nose. He grunts, faltering in place before blood gushes from his nose. A scowl forms against his brow as he examines the blood on his fingers.

“Did you just...?” A rumbling growl seeps from his throat as he angrily wipes the blood from his nose with his arm, smearing it across his face in a gross display.

His hand fists in your hair before you have a chance to process the fact that he was even reaching for you. You yelp, letting out a cry of pain as he harshly tugs you.

“Gally! What do you think you’re doing?!” A new voice booms amongst the others before the blonde is trying to free your hair from Gally’s hand.

The blonde succeeds with little to no effort as soon as another male appears in the pit. He ushers you away from the other two, climbing out of the pit himself before offering a hand to help you out.

“Come on now, let’s get you out of there.”

You hesitate before taking his hand, allowing him to help you out of the pit. You stumble to your feet once they meet the soft grass. You look around, noticing that many of the boys that had been watching you before had dispersed across the large field you found yourself in. You look back to the blonde in confusion.

“Where— Where am I?” The colossal stone walls that stare back at you put a sour feeling in your stomach.

You’re afraid. That much is obvious. The blonde doesn’t have time to answer before you find yourself running in a full-blown sprint. You don’t know where you’re running or how it was possible for you to run so fast. You hear the blonde’s voice behind you.

“We’ve got a runner!”

You feel yourself running faster at his words, unsure how much longer your legs could keep up the pace. The stone walls are getting closer, and the blonde’s yells are both growing more frantic and closer. Then you’re on the ground and the world is spinning. You’re pressed flush against the blonde, back against the dry soil as he tightly holds onto your body. A pant leaves his lips, brushing against your ear before he pushes himself up.

“Hey,” He pants, grinning down at you. “for a second there, I thought you could be a runner. Well—until you got tackled by a guy with a bad leg and a limp.”

You force a laugh that becomes just a bit more genuine when he climbs off of you and helps you up once more. He looks around for a moment, before spreading out his arms.

“This,” he looks to you with a soft smile, “is the glade.” He points to himself with a bashful grin, “And I’m Newt. Sorry ‘bout not introducing myself sooner.”

You frown, nervously scratching the back of your neck. “Sorry about punching you.”

Newt laughs, “No worries Greenie, I’m pretty sure we all had a similar reaction when we came up in the box.”

“We?” You look around quizzically, “You mean, you all came up in that?”

He nods, “Yup, every month a new Greenie comes up. Though you’re the first girl.”

There were no other girls? Your fear returns, this time tenfold. You step back from Newt, readying yourself to run again though your legs won’t move. Newt seems to notice, going to grab your wrist to prevent you from doing so, but you take another step back.

“Who are you? Where am I? Why can’t I remember anything?” You take a deep breath, gesturing vaguely as you speak before stabbing out a finger in the direction of the wall in front of you. “And what the hell is up with these walls?”

Newt runs a hand through his dusty hair, browns eyes softening as he speaks slowly as to not further agitate your nerves, “I’m Newt and I’m second-in-command here in the glade, just behind Alby.” He extends a finger past you, pointing to another muscular man—the same that had jumped into the pit with you, Newt, and Gally—dragging Gally behind him. “That’s Alby. He’s in charge, been here the longest—well, out of what’s left of us that is.” He pauses for a moment, turning to look at the looming walls. “That’s the maze. You aren’t allowed in there. None of us are, not unless you’re a runner. There are things in there that no one needs to see, especially the likes of you. We don’t know what’s out there, and we don’t know how to get out. We’ve been trying for years. That’s beside the point though. You’ve gotta be given the tour, and by the looks of it, Alby’s busy locking Gally up in the slammer.”

Newt begins to walk past you, turning his head over his shoulder as a signal for you to follow him. At his previous comment, Newt’s limp suddenly becomes noticeable and you notice how when he stands in place he shifts his weight to his better leg. It’s something you find almost admirable due to how despite whatever pain he might’ve felt, he still ran after you to prevent you from dying a tragic death in the maze. For a moment you feel thankful, though it quickly washes away with an invisible tidal wave when you notice Newt’s leg begin to tremble impatiently, having grown tired from supporting a majority of his weight. You take a moment before reluctantly trudging over, nervous to learn more about the glade yet dying to somehow find comfort in getting to know the place.

By the end of the tour, you only feel slightly more comfortable than you had when you’d first awoken in the box. Newt makes it an effort to help you feel welcomed—going as far as to show you the places you could go to unwind, even implying that you could hide out in the map room when the runners were out as long as you didn’t get caught. Lastly, he shows you the gardens or as he’d referred to them, “His pride and joy after years of being a track-hoe.” Though he implied he tended to do lighter work as a gardener as opposed to the trench digging the actual track-hoes did. At some point, you grew to feel comfortable around Newt, well, more so than you did around the likes of Gally, Alby, and even Frypan. Newt pauses in the middle of the glade before he turns to look at you, stretching his arms above his head.

“Tomorrow, you’ll be starting work in the gardens. Just like the rest of us, you’ve gotta try until you find what you’re good at.” He wipes the sweat from his brow that had formed under the beating sun. “Judging by how the sky looks, Fry’ll be serving up dinner soon. The bonfire’ll be after the sun sets. You’d better rest up Greenie, you’re the guest of honor after all.”

He grins at you, pointing to the homestead, “Right now, there aren’t that many rooms. Gally and Ben’ll have to start adding on tomorrow seeing as Gally’s been thrown in the slammer for now.” He hums in thought for a minute. “You can use my old room, well, I say old but it’s only cause I’ve been sleeping out on the hammocks recently. Don’t think Alby’s gonna let you sleep outside with so many teen boys.”

Newt starts again, this time heading in the direction of the homestead. You follow him, not being all too short of a lost puppy as you trail just behind his heels, occasionally bumping your feet into his from following too close. He pulls open the door, leading you up the stairs and just down the hall before opening yet another door. The scent of dust wafts to your nose almost immediately and you find yourself holding back the urge to sneeze. You could definitely tell that Newt hadn’t been sleeping there.

He coughs slightly, picking a shirt up off the ground, “Don’t mind the mess... I’ll, uh, clean up real quick. Why don’t you head down to the showers and freshen up?”

You squint at him, “Are you implying something, Newt?”

Newt snaps his head towards you, missing the woven basket he’d attempted to toss the shirt into. “N— No! Of course not!” You snicker slightly, earning a frown from Newt, “Bloody— Gosh, you sure are some kind of special, you shank.”

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celestedeacon · 5 years

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On the Side of the Angels Chapter 13

TITLE: On the Side of the Angels Chapter 13 PAIRING: (Castiel/Celeste) RATING: T CHAPTER: 13/? SUMMARY: Celeste, the daughter of a fallen angel and mortal. Ever since she was born, the angels were given orders to protect her, specifically Castiel and Gabriel. When she was 16, she was in a horrific car accident, which Castiel saved her from. When Castiel comes back to Earth, she’s in his thoughts 24/7. This poses a problem for him. How can he love her and still follow orders?

Chuck entered his house with a brown paper bag and a six pack of cans. He walked in slowly and found Dean sitting in his living room. “Dean”.

“I take it you knew I'd be here”.

“You look terrible”.

“That's 'cause I just got hit by a minivan, Chuck”.

“Oh”.

“That it? Every damn thing you write about me comes true; that’s all you have to say is "oh"?!”

“Please don't yell at me”.

Dean stood up from the chair. “Why do I get feeling there's something that you're not telling us?”

“What wouldn’t I be telling you?”

“How you know what you know, for starters!”

“I don't know how I know, I just do!”

Dean shoved Chuck up against the wall. “That's not good enough. How the hell are you doing this?!”

Castiel appeared in the room, Celeste by his side. “Dean, let him go!”

Dean released Chuck and turned to face Castiel and Celeste.

“This man is to be protected”, Castiel said.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“He's a Prophet of the Lord”.

“You...You're Castiel...aren't you?” Chuck asked, “And Celeste. I never even wrote you in”.

“Thank you?” Celeste said hesitantly.

“It's an honor to meet you, Chuck. I... admire your work”, Castiel told him. He picked up one of the books and started paging through it.

Celeste snatched it out of his hand. “I’ll take that”, she said with a small smile on her face.

“Whoa, whoa, what? This guy, a prophet? Come on, he's – he's... he's practically a Penthouse Forum writer”, Dean said. Dean turned to Chuck. “Did you know about this?”

Chuck stumbled over to his armchair and opened a fresh bottle of whisky and poured himself some.

Castiel noticed Celeste’s nose crinkle in disgust as she looked up from the Supernatural book she was reading. He thought it made her look adorable.

“I, uh, I might have dreamt about it”, Chuck said.

“And you didn't tell us?!” Dean yelled.

“It was too preposterous. Not to mention arrogant. I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night-level douchiness”. He finished his short rant and gulped down the whisky in his hand.

Celeste’s nose once again crinkled in disgust.

“This is the guy who decides our fate?” Dean asked Castiel.

“He isn't deciding anything. He's a mouthpiece – a conduit for the inspired word”.

“The word? The word of god? What, like the new new testament?”

“One day, these books – they'll be known as the Winchester gospel”.

“You got to be kidding me”, Dean and Chuck said in unison as Celeste giggled.

“I am not... kidding you”, Castiel said with dead seriousness. He turned to Celeste and gave her a look that made her stop laughing.

“If you all would please excuse me one minute”, Chuck said. He stood up with the whisky bottle still in his hand and went upstairs.

“Him? Really?” Dean asked.

“You should've seen Luke”, Castiel said, causing Celeste to snort in amusement.

“Why'd he get tapped?”

“I don't know how prophets are chosen. The order comes from high up on the celestial chain of command”.

“How high?”

“Very”.

“Well, whatever. How do we get around this?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and cocked his head in confusion. “Around what?”

“The Sam-Lilith love connection. How do we stop it from happening?”

“What the prophet has written can't be unwritten. As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass”.

Dean stormed out of the house.

Castiel turned to Celeste, who was still engrossed in the Supernatural book. “Enjoying yourself?”

Celeste smiled at him. “Very much so. Earlier when you said the prophet order comes from high up on the ‘celestial chain of command’…did you mean like archangel status?”

Castiel only nodded.

Celeste turned back to the book.

“Have I done anything to upset you?” Castiel asked her.

“No Cass. I’m fine. Let’s just go”. Celeste threw the book on the couch.

“Celeste…”

“Please Castiel. I don’t want to talk about it”.

Castiel followed her out of the house. They walked around the town, enjoying their time together until Castiel stopped and listened.

“Cass, what is it?” Celeste asked.

“Dean”. He grabbed her arm and they both appeared outside a hotel.

“Warn a girl before you do that”.

“Prayer is a sign of faith. This is a good thing, Dean”, Castiel said approaching him.

“So does that mean you'll help me?”

“I'm not sure what I can do”.

“Drag Sam out of here, now. Before Lilith shows up”.

“It's a prophecy. I can't interfere. And neither can Celeste”.

“You have tested me and thrown me every which way. And I have never asked for anything. Not a damn thing. But now I'm asking. I need your help. Please”.

“What you're asking, it's... not within my power to do”, Castiel said, trying to make Dean understand.

“Why? 'Cause it's "divine prophecy"?”

“Yes”.

“So, what – We're just supposed to sit around and, and wait for it to happen?” Dean asked, his voice getting louder.

“I'm sorry”.

“Screw you. You and your mission. Your God. If you don't help me now, then when the time comes and you need me... don't bother knocking”. Dean turned and walked away from the angel and the young nephilim.

Castiel turned around. “Dean”.

“What?!”

“You must understand why I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected”.

“I get that”.

“If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon”.

Celeste turned her head away from the two males. Castiel could sense her discomfort.

“And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?” Dean asked.

“Yes”, Castiel said.

“So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon…”

“Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon. Just so you understand...why I can't help”.

“Thanks, Cas”.

“Good luck”.

Dean got in his Impala and drove off.

Castiel turned to Celeste who still had her head turned away. He reached over and grasped her chin in his hand, turning her head to face him. “Celeste?”

“It’s nothing”.

“Please talk to me”.

“Gabriel isn’t like that. He’s not absolute. He left heaven ages ago. Sure…when he gets mad he can be scary, but he’s not as bad as Lucifer, Michael, or Raphael”.

Castiel took her in his arms as she clutched onto his trench coat. “Everything will be okay”.

“You don’t have to lie to me”.

“I would never lie to you. As long as I am alive, nothing will harm you”.

“Guess you really are my guardian angel”.

Castiel smiled and set his head on hers. “I should get you home. Before Gabriel starts to worry”.

Tags: @waddles03

#celeste deacon #castiel/celeste #castiel #castiel fic #castiel/oc #castiel fanfiction #castiel fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural oc #dean winchester #dean winchester imagines #Sam Winchester #sam winchester imagines #chuck #prophet chuck

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suckerfordeansfreckles · 6 years

Text

Emoji Ficlet (New Year’s Eve)

I finally finished the thing I’ve been writing for @jhoomwrites ‘s reverse emoji ficlet challenge !

(Took me long enough... I procrastinated A LOT and ended up stressing over it, because that’s just who I am and how I work best, apparently.)

It’s a super fluffy Destiel AU, and the story takes place on New Year’s Eve. A few swear-words, otherwise honestly just fluff.

The emojis are: 💐😠🐝✨ (bouquet, angry face, bee, stars/ sparkles)

“Come on, Dean! Don’t act like this is such a big thing. It’s New Year’s Eve, we said we’d spend it together,” Gadreel shouts, looking up at where Dean’s head is hanging out of the window of his apartment on the second floor.

“You cheated on me, after just three weeks of this goddamn relationship! Don’t you dare tell me how to feel about this!!” He screams back, furiously. He doesn’t even care that it’s already 11 p.m. and their shouting might disturb his neighbours.

“Chill out. This was never meant to be, anyways, was it? You are head over heels for this best friend of yours, the one you can’t stop talking about. How do I know you never cheated on me with this Cas, huh?!” Gadreel looks more annoyed than angry, but this guy has always been really weird about expressing his emotions, so Dean can’t really be sure about what’s going on in his head.

“Oh, you know what? Fuck you. Leave, this is so over!” Dean isn’t even in the mood to shout at him anymore, he just kind of spits those words out, his tone lacking any kind of emotion.

The thing is, Gadreel kind of has a point. Dean really has never been serious about their relationship, it has always been a way to distract him from his feelings for his best friend. That wouldn’t have been fair to either of them, had Dean not always known that Gadreel took their relationship exactly as seriously as he did himself; not at all.

Which doesn’t make him any less angry. Dean would have never cheated on Gadreel, even if he miraculously had a chance with Castiel- he just isn’t that type of person, and he would have thought his ex-boyfriend wasn’t either. Well, joke’s on him now. He’s just glad he accidentally found out about Gadreel’s unfaithfulness this morning.

“You know what?! You’ll realize what you’re missing out on soon enough,” Gadreel screams and grabs the bouquet of flowers he had brought to apologize. Before Dean can even react, Gad chucks the flowers in the direction of his window, turns around and literally storms of.

And because his day hasn’t been bad enough already, Gadreel’s fucking flowers hit him square in the face before hitting the floor in front of Dean’s feet with a dull thud. Thank fuck Gad was too cheap to buy him roses, he really doesn’t want to know how this hit would have felt if the flower had had thorns.

Well, then. Time to figure out how to spend his New Year’s Eve instead, he thinks grimly. First, though, shuts his window and throws the damn flowers in the trash.

While pacing the room, Dean thinks about his options. He could just stay at home, watch a couple movies, drink a couple beers and fall asleep alone on his couch.

Or he could go and visit his best friend. Cas had planned on staying home alone, anyway, what with Dean having plans with Gadreel and their good friend Charlie spending her evening with her girlfriend.

Which, looking back now, makes Dean sound like a huge dick. He really should have made plans with Cas, who has been his best friend since they met in college six years ago, instead of his boyfriend of three weeks, right?

The thing is, Cas wasn’t even angry about any of this when Dean told him about his plans. He’d just been nice and coy, as always, had even encouraged Dean to spend time with Gadreel, since “he obviously means so much to you, Dean”. And that just convinced Dean that his decision was the right one, because it didn’t seem like Cas had wanted to spend time with him at all and he sure as hell didn’t sound jealous about Gad. Which… had kinda hurt.

That’s the thing with Cas, in all of the six years of their friendship he had never once shown interest in Dean. Castiel isn’t exactly celibate, he had dated a couple guys and girls over the last view years, but never once had one of those dates progressed to something more than one night spent together. But Dean? He never even hinted at being interested in more than their friendship.

To be fair, Dean hasn’t done that, either. He’s been struggling with his feelings for Cas for years, until he finally stopped denying how hard he’s already fallen for the guy about a year ago. He would have told him, were their friendship not the most important relationship Dean has ever had outside of his family. He couldn’t handle losing Cas just because he’s made him uncomfortable with his feelings.

But… Castiel wouldn’t just end their friendship because of something like that, would he? Cas is such a nice, kind and understanding guy. Maybe he’d just accept Dean’s feelings? Or maybe… maybe there is a tin chance he actually feels the same way? Wouldn’t it be better to tell Cas how he feels now than continuing to wait and blindly hope for something, being unable to get over him?

In the end, Dean doesn’t even make a conscious decision. He just somehow ends up wearing his jacket and boots, sitting in his car on the way to Cas’ place just outside of the city. The drive is over way to quickly, and before he can talk himself out of it, he’s knocking on his best friend’s door.

Cas opens his door in his flannel pyjamas and with a blanket thrown over his shoulders. The cheesy, blindingly colourful bee blanket Dean had given him for Christmas this year. Literally a bright blue blanket, covered in tiny cartoon bees. Dean honestly can’t explain how he does it, but Cas looks so cute wrapped up in the damn thing that it’s actually kind of disgusting.

“Hello, Dean!” He looks pleasantly surprised as he takes a step back and looks at his friend curiously.

“Hey, Cas. I’m sorry for showing up here literally twenty minutes to midnight, but I was kinda hoping you’d want to spend the rest of this year with me?” Dean asks, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“But- Where is Gadreel?” Cas looks at him with a confused squint.

“Uhm… that thing with Gad didn’t really work out. Turns out he cheated on me.”

“What?! That’s horrible, I’m so sorry! How are you dealing with it?” Cas’ voice is laced with genuine worry and immediately wraps Dean up in a tight, comforting hug.

“Hey, it really doesn’t bother me that much… Wouldn’t have worked out between us, anyway. I’m good.” Dean mumbles into the crook of Castiel’s neck, dismissing his concern but lingering in his embrace nonetheless. “So, you up for some company?”

“Of course, Dean! I don’t have plans and you know I always enjoy spending time with you,” Cas pulls back from the hug and smiles softly, motioning for Dean to enter the house. “Do you want to do anything specific?” He asks as he walks a few more steps back.

“I was thinking we could just go out and watch the sky? Like, stargaze and wait for the fireworks?” He suggests with a faint blush.

“I’d love that! Do you want to drive out towards the woods? I think we’d have a nice view over the city and the fireworks from the edge of the forest…” Cas suggests, as he shoves his bee blanket into Dean’s arms and starts hurriedly putting on his beloved trench coat.

“You maybe wanna put on some real clothes before leaving the house?” Dean snorts, watching as Cas struggles to get into his boots.

“No, we don’t have time for that. Take the blanket with you, lets get going or we won’t be able to watch the fireworks!” Cas stresses and starts pushing his best friend through the door before locking it. “Are we gonna take baby?”

“Yeah, we sure are. Come on, I parked her a little down the road.” Dean feels bold all of a sudden and grabs Cas’ hand out of impulse to drag him to his car.

The drive to the forest is quiet and Dean feels giddy beyond believe, almost like he can actually taste his own anticipation in the air between them. He’s fixing his eyes on the bumpy road and tries his hardest to ignore his best friend’s overjoyed smile for now.

When they arrive at the edge of the forest, there are only five minutes left to midnight and they immediately step out of Dean’s car to climb onto baby’s hood. They snuggle up next to each other under Cas’ blanket and start looking for stars and constellations, which is a thing they’ve actually been doing for years whenever one of them has felt down or needed to be distracted.

Neither of them is wearing a watch, so they just wait for midnight to make itself known through the fireworks above the city. It makes them feel like the two of them are living in their own little world without any concept of time, snuggled up warm against the car’s cool, black hood. Dean catches himself wishing to be able to stay here forever when he looks over at Cas, who is now animatedly talking about the greek mythology surrounding the Great Bear constellation.

When the first fireworks light up the clear, dark sky above their heads, Dean finds himself once again overwhelmed with feelings for his beautiful, kind-hearted, nerdy best friend.

As Cas stares at the sky in amazement and points up whenever he sees an exceptionally beautiful firework, Dean can’t stop himself from leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his friend’s mouth.

Castiel’s eyes shoot over to Dean and widen as they take in his dopey grin. “Dean- what…?”

“Cas, I need to tell you something. I’ve decided that it’s time, you know- New Year’s and everything. People making resolutions and shit… I thought I’d do, too.” Dean speeds through his impromptu speech, oddly confident about this, considering how fucking terrified he’s been ever since he decided to actually do this on their way here.

“I’ve been in love with you for a very long time and I just can’t hide it anymore. Like, I’d totally understand if you don’t feel the same way or anything and I won’t pressure you into anything. I just promised myself I’d tell you. Actually, Gad kinda got me thinking. He made me realize it’s never gonna work out between me and him or, really, me and anyone else. Anyone except you, I guess.” Dean finishes, hoping that his bright pink blush is well hidden by the darkness surrounding them.

“So, yeah. Thought I’d tell you,” He murmurs eventually, after waiting for Cas to break the silence for several painful heartbeats.

Another burst of fireworks lights up the sky in gold and silver and blue, and as the colours reflect on Cas’ face, Dean realizes that tears make their way down Castiel’s cheeks. “Cas? Are you- Is everything okay? I’m sorry I put you on the spot like that. If you don’t wan-“

“Are you serious about this?” Cas interrupts him, voice breaking on the last word. He��s looking at him with something very close to amazement.

“Well, yeah, of course I am.”

“Oh god, finally!”

Cas doesn’t clarify any further, but when he leans over and kisses Dean gently, they both kind of forget to talk about this whole, huge thing between them.

After nearly an hour spent kissing and cuddling and just feeling each other in the quiet darkness, Cas murmurs a quiet “I love you so much.” and suddenly everything feels undoubtedly and absolutely right.

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