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chiliiscereal · 3 years

Note

Okay, apparently my brain has nothing better to do, so I got a SINGLE prompt for ya. U ready?

...✨Living with the turtles✨

Rottmnt headcanon: living with the turtles

———

-living with the turtles is both fun and... not XD

-lets be really, Mikeys an early bird!

-you simply can’t sleep in past 8 there’s just no way

-Mikey wakes up every morning like it’s Christmas

-“there’s stuff to do today! You can’t be a slug and stay in bed! Move move move!”

-lots of jumping on your bed until you wake up

-usually everyone eating breakfast together is not a thing, as everyone is usually doing their own thing

-but if you cook anything you better be ready for all the turtles to ask for some

-you’re also now the honorary judge for literally every single competition

-need someone to judge who can do the best kick flip?

-you’re their human

-need someone to see who can balance more fridge items on your chin?

-there you are

-lots of working with splinter in that field

-you’re also the one who anyone else goes to for validation

-for some reason you can’t understand, they can never compliment each other’s work

-“hey I need you to look this over, tell me if there’s anything wrong with it, possibly-.”

-“compliment you about your work?”

-“well, if you insist.”

-will drag you to his lab or drag his lab work to you so you can admire it

-doesn’t matter if you’re reading or sleeping

-when he’s ready for you to see it then you’re ready to see it

-“it’s literally 1 am.”

-“come on get up I need you to compliment my work!”

-“alright just stop pulling on me!”

-as for GIVING attention he’s not very good at it

-he’ll try, that’s for sure

-but heaven knows he won’t compliment you to your face

-the only physical affection you receive is if he goes to you first for help

-“I only need you because I need you to hold these wires and you have more fingers than you know what to do with.”

-it’s not just Donnie though.

-it’s Mikey as well

-“look at what I drew!”

-“wow this is awesome! How long did it take?”

-“oh... about an hour?”

-“that’s really good!”

-“really?”

-will even ask you to put it on the fridge

-you give in and get a bulletin board in your room for him to pin all his work

-it’s covered with his drawings by the end of the week

-needs lots and lots of hugs

-randomly jumps on your back for a piggy back ride

-you gotta be ready for him at any given moment or else you’re both gonna end up on the floor

-and who could forget Leo

-not you that’s for sure

-he’s make sure you’d never forget he needed attention

-Leo’s definetely the type of guy to get ready to pull a stunt and dedicate it to you before doing it

-“for Y/n’s honor!”

-“Leo you’re gonna break you’re neck if you do that!”

-“it’s for your honor so it’s okay!”

-jumps out from every corner to scare you

-can never seem to get you to flinch

-this boy’s gonna get you to jump one day though

-don’t be surprised if he walks up next to you and just casually rests his elbow on your head or drapes an arm over your shoulder

-will randomly poke your side just to see you jump

-Raphs no better than his brothers in the attention department

-especially with weight lifting

-“5...6...7 *notices you walk in* 37...38...39...”

-he doesn’t go around giving affection like Leo and Mikey though

-his love language is helping with anything you need, such as as helping you reach a high shelf

-very comfortable just picking you up and moving you out of the way

-doesn’t matter if it’s to get you out of danger or if you’re blocking his way to the pizza that just arrived

-only responsible roommate out of the four

-only one that washes the dishes

-video games all the time

-you can’t live with the turtles without liking video games

-you and Mikey bake and cook all the snacks for video game night

-of course, Leo also has a rivalry with you

-not one like the old rivalry between Leo and Raph in other versions no no

-it’s the playful “hey wanna take me in hockey? I bet I’ll wiiiiinnnn~” or “I’m gonna best you at this and you’re gonna go crying to splinter!”

-winner gets bragging rights

- you also can’t live in the lair without being besties with April

-come on, she’s cool as hell!

-she’s the one you talk to about human problems or just complaining about the turtles in general

-nosey boys

-very very nosey

-there’s no way to have secrets in this lair

-you have a diary?

-expect Leo to go through it in one night

-you read fanfiction or write fanfiction?

-oh Donnies keeping tabs on each chapter

-he’s updated all your tech, he can definetely see what you look up and access it from his computer

-hey, living with them isn’t always going to be sunshine and rainbows

-you’ll always find Mikey in your room admiring any decorations or books

-he’s constantly borrowing your stuff and not asking

-Raph is probably the only one that understands personal space

-...unless it comes to him worrying about you when you leave the lair

-will text you all the time, asking if you’re okay, even if you’re just hanging with a friend or going to the store

-since they always invade your privacy, they always know if you aren’t feeling okay

-the moment you step foot in the lair they’re asking what happened

-and if you try to say there’s nothing wrong oh ho ho ho you’re in for it

-Donnie is pulling up articles, Mikey is bugging you, Leo is trying to activate his face man powers, and Raph is sitting in front of you and asking what’s up

- the only privacy invading they do that you actually enjoy is when you’re in your room at like, midnight, watching a movie

-you’ll be watching peacefully and then Mikey just appears in the doorway

-he’s got blankets and he’s got snacks

-you just wave him over and let him sit on your bed

-then Leo shows up, no offering other than his presence

-don’t bother trying to push him away he’s gonna watch that movie with you and Mikey even if it kills him

-once you three are settled, Donnie shows up with a movie projector so you don’t have to watch on a tiny phone

-he ends up staying, even though he denied that he would

-Raph shows up with pillows for everyone, the only turtle to actually ASK to join

-you can’t say no to the giant teddy bear

-you may have started off by yourself in your dark room but you ended in a giant cuddle puddle with your roommates

-sometimes though you don’t have time to hang out with them

-school

-school happens

-you have to deny them because of homework

-Mikey will help you with flash cards, decorating them so they’re fun and make learning interesting

-Donnie studies with you and probably knows the material better

-he’ll help you so it’ll be over faster

-Raph is simply your company

-he’ll sit quietly in your room and play relaxing music, offering any advice or comments he had

-Leo just tries to convince you to ignore it

-it’ll still be there tomorrow! As of right now, he needs you to watch the skating tournament with him

-once you’ve got everything done you’re immediately dragged into whatever shenanigans they’ve got going on

-you’re also the self appointed camera man, using your phone to capture every harebrained plan AND failure

-living with them isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, but it sure is never boring

Sorry this is all I got!

If anyone has any headcanon or oneshot requests send em my way!

#wattpad #fanfic #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt raph #rottmnt oneshots #rottmnt leo #rottmnt imagine #rottmnt headcannons #rottmnt donnie #rott spoilers #rottmnt movie #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt x reader

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rekrappeter · 3 years

Text

finding a true love’s kiss

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: you couldn’t stand fred weasley, yet you were best friends with george weasley. it was a strange dynamic until you end up in detention with fred and he reveals a secret he has been hiding for years

warnings: not proofread, written weeks a part, inaccurate Harry Potter vocab probably, shitty ending

notes: this was originally for @lunalovecroft‘s writing challenge but I wrote one part like two months ago but hopefully it’s still legible to some extent. prompt used was “you can hate people and still think they’re hot”

"How long have you and George been friends?" Katie Bell aimed the question at you, diverting your attention from the burgundy rug underneath you to the curious eyes of your roommates anticipating your answer. You were all sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, creating a circle as you delved into the usual Friday night gossip session.

Pondering on the question for a second, you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, "since the beginning of time it seems."

"Yet you've never... did it?" The girls squealed around you, clapping their hands in excitement. With wide eyes, you denied the question to no end.

"Did I have sex with George?" You spluttered out, feeling your face flush, "absolutely not."

"Why not?" Angelina pushed, wanting to get more details from you.

"I'll have you know," you started, lifting yourself from the floor and making your way to your own single bed, "myself and George are only friends, that's it."

Angelina eyed Katie as you turned your back to them, stripping from your white buttoned-up shirt and replacing it with a cozy pyjama top. "What about Fred?"

The silence was deafening, no one dared to laugh or squeal this time around. You stared down at the white material dangling from your fingertips, a sickening feeling forming at the pit of your stomach. When you scoffed, the girls’ shoulders loosened and they let out a sigh of relief when you turned to them with an amused smile on your face. "Fred and I can’t even be in the same room together for longer than needs be, never mind long enough for us to... do the deed."

“I don’t know, y/n,” Katie drawled on, standing up and walking over to you, she squeezed your shoulders as she said, “I think it’s all the sexual tension building up.”

Pushing her away from you, you faked gagged in their direction, “You two are crazy.”

“I just don’t understand how you can be best friends with one twin, and hate the other one,” Katie laughed, changing into her own pajamas and climbing on top of her unmade bed. “But we see the way he is around you.”

“Yeah, an ignorant jackass,” you chuckled, flopping down onto the bed.

“More like a boy picking on the girl he has a crush on,” Angelina said.

“Please, don’t make me sick,” you shuffled into your bed, pulling the quilt up to your chin. Angelina switched the lights off, leaving you in complete darkness. You listened to her maneuver in the dark, trying to dodge the mess you all made. Hearing her muffle profanities made you giggle, assuming she walked into something or kicked a lifeless object.

“You know, y/n, you can hate people and still think they’re hot,” you rolled your eyes at Angelina’s words, twisting in your bed and letting out a loud exhale into the pillow.

“Thanks for the words of wisdom, but Fred Weasley is not hot,” your voice was filled with distaste, your lips smacking together loudly to get your point across but you knew it would fall on deaf ears. Your friends never listened when you told them over and over again that you weren’t hiding feelings for Fred, the relationship you had with him will forever be non-existence.

It was safe to say that the conversation from the night before had left a sour taste in your mouth. You were woken from a sweet slumber by the sound of birds chirping through the opened window; normally, you’d groan in annoyance but enjoy the sound. This morning, however, was different. It was as if the birds had clawed their way into your brain and changed a few wires, you climbed out of the bed with the sudden urge to crucify the loud creatures. One look at your face and Angelina was twirling on her heels and made her way out the dorm room, leaving you to your own devices.

Mornings were usually the quietest time of the day for you. You would get up and skip down to breakfast but this morning you couldn’t even work the courage to plaster a fake smile on your face as you entered the Great Hall and your mood remained foul at the sight of Fred Weasley sitting beside his twin brother. Heaving in a sigh, you sat across from George and started piling the breakfast onto your plate.

“Jesus, don’t you look awful this morning,” Fred’s voice echoed through your thoughts.

Snapping your head in the direction, your eyes narrowed, “you really want to start this early?”

“This started a long time ago,” Fred snapped back at you, the smirk on his face making you roll your eyes to the heavens. You ignored him, looking at George who has a pleading expression on his face.

“Don’t even say it,” you mumbled, reaching for the milk and pouring it into the bowl of cereal in front of you.

“There’s no point, I’m sick of saying it,” your best friend said.

You ate silently, listening to the twins bickering and there was something about Fred’s voice that was eating at you. Despite knowing him for years, it was familiar, more familiar than usual. You glanced up from your spoon, unconsciously connecting your gaze with Fred. You shocked yourself by not looking away or flipping him off, and it surprised you when it looked as if he fell into a dream. The longer you looked at him, a warning signal was going off in your head and then something clicked in your brain. All the color drained from your face, fear striking through your body.

“y/n, what’s going on?” George asked, grabbing your hand but you pulled it back and scrambled from the table, walking quickly out of the hall. Everything came flashing back - everything you dreamt about last night.

“You’re being so damn annoying today,” you hissed, pushing Fred away from you as he reached across the table to grab something. It was just you and him in the kitchen of the Burrow, a place you spent numerous holidays but it was quieter than usual.

“You’re annoying every day,” Fred retorted, taking a bite of the red apple. He leaned against the countertop, looking at you flicking through the book in hand. You rolled your eyes, stalking away from him but you could hear his footsteps follow you, “Why do you hate me?”

You looked over your shoulder, brows creasing in confusion, “What?”

“Why do you hate me?” Fred repeated.

“I don’t hate you, Fred,” you muttered softly, feeling the air thicken around you. You turned to face him, watching him swallow awkwardly and you could see it in his eyes; he didn’t hate you either. Without another word being uttered, you closed the gap between your bodies and connected your lips to his.

“Fuck,” you muttered angrily, remembering the dream that soon turned into a nightmare. You’ve never dreamt about Fred before, he may have been in the background of some but he was never the main character, he was most definitely never the love interest. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“That’s a lot of fucks given,” George chuckled, pushing his way past students walking towards The Great Hall, “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, G.”

George raised one brow in the air, his arms crossing in front of his chest as he examined you closely, “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” you popped, brushing your hair out of your face and stepping out to the courtyard, “Just remembered a nightmare.”

“Want to talk about it?” You immediately shook your head, earning a laugh from George who nodded understandingly. “Most likely about my brother being a dickhead, aye?”

“Something like that,” you laughed, trying to push the lingering face of Fred to the back of your mind.

The day slowly passed by, your mood gradually getting worse throughout it. Every free second that your mind was preoccupied with studying or maintaining a conversation with someone, it wandered off to the same red-haired that starred in your dream last night. It wasn’t the usual thoughts that you had about Fred that consisted of wanting to punch him in the face or lock him in a broom cabinet. It was worse than that, you found yourself seeking him out and admiring how he twirled his quill between his fingers. The anger that usually washed over you whenever you looked at him was non-existence. It was more of a longing feeling and it terrified you.

You had spent the majority of the day in the library, not wanting to confront George and definitely not being able to be in the presence of Fred. You were slowly making your way back to the common room, trying to procrastinate it as much as possible hence why you took the long route around the castle. What you didn’t expect was to hear an explosion from up ahead and a strangled yell of annoyance but it was enough to put the puzzles together.

Just as you were about to round the corner, a figure stumbled into you and knocked you to the floor. You gripped out for the robes that made you lose your balance and brought them to the ground as well with them landing on top of you. A flash of red-hair made you groan and your eyes connected to Fred’s wide brown ones. It startled you, the image of him kissing you making your stomach nauseous.

“Shit, get up!” Fred exclaimed, jumping from your body and he waited for you but you were still in a shocked daze. He groaned and gripped your robes, pulling you up and running along the corridor with you trailing behind him. “In here,” he demanded, opening the door and pushing you inside with him.

The rough gesture brought you from daydream, realisation kicking in and you pushed Fred away from you. “What the hell?” you yelled, fixing your robes and hair that was a mess but you were consciously aware of them now.

“Shut up,” Fred demanded, covering your mouth with his hand. Your eyes widened again, feeling your heart hammer against your chest at the close proximity of his body to yours. Your eyes darted around his face, his eyes closed as he tried to listen intently to whoever was searching for him. The freckles danced along his nose, similar to how George’s were but with Fred, they were evenly spaced and spontaneous. His eyes lashes were full and long, you envied them. His lips were uneven, his top lip thin and his bottom lip full but they looked so kissable in that moment. When his eyes fluttered open after seconds of silence, your eyes lingered on his for a moment longer. You wondered if he felt the shift in emotion between you, or if it was one-sided. “I think it’s safe.”

You feigned a roll of your eyes and licked the palm of his hand, earning yourself a look of disgust from him. “I don’t even want to know what you did…” you mumbled, glancing around the room he pushed you in; an unused office except it was piled with broken chairs and tables, unopened boxes were on top of each other, some materials spilling from them.

“Of course you don’t, it’d be too much fun for you,” Fred retorted, stepping away from you and stumbling over a box behind him. You laughed loudly, ignoring him flipping you off as you opened the door to the office and stepped outside, only to be met with the peering eyes of Professor McGonagall.

“Professor..” you gasped, trying not to stare too much at the black ashes swept through her hair, “W-what happened to you?”

“Funny you should ask, Miss y/l/n,” her glasses hanging at the end of her nose, “I’m not at all surprised to see you, Mr. Weasley, however, y/n, I do hope that detention tomorrow will give you enough time to think about your actions.”

“P-Professor -,” you stuttered but you were cut off.

“This office looks like it needs a good tidy,” McGonagall peered into the damp and dark office, “It’ll at least keep you both busy on a boring Sunday, without magic.”

You stalked away from Fred when McGonagall excused you, the anger was bubbling inside you and you ignored his chuckles as he followed you back to the common room. “Wait up, y/n.”

You twirled on your heels, getting ready to give this man a piece of your mind when you looked over his shoulder to spot the other twin making his way towards you. A grin was on George’s face until he spotted the two of you, and it deflated just as quickly. “Where did you go?” He asked Fred, shoving his shoulder.

“I bumped into this headwrecker,” Fred pointed towards you. You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “McGonagall found us.”

“And we both have detention tomorrow,” you deadpanned, glaring at the twins.

“Oh,” George mumbled.

“Oh? Oh? That’s all you can say,” you sighed in frustration, “Because you two are complete gits, I have to sacrifice a whole Sunday and spend it with this twat.”

“I don’t know which bit she’s more annoyed about,” Fred whispered under his breath to George, but you could hear him clearly. You groaned and marched towards the common room, not seeing George and Fred share a look of amusement.

“I’ll give you one guess,” George laughed, shoving his brother again and following after you.

The dreaded hour of the clock struck and you were leaning against the cold, brick wall with your feet stretched out in front of you. Your eyes were glaring at the locked door of the office you misfortunately got dragged into yesterday evening by your so-called enemy. Your developing feelings for Fred ceased before they even got the chance to blossom into something real. The trouble he caused you left a sour taste in your mouth, a permanent frown on your face.

“Miss y/l/n, good morning,” Professor McGonagall greeted you, her eyes scanning the empty corridor for a certain ginger twin but she sighed and shook her head disappointingly when he was nowhere to be seen. With a quick swift of her wand, the door glides open and you follow her into the room with a heavy exhale. “Please do use these hours wisely, maybe even consider building bridges.”

The frown deepened on your face, first because of what she had implied and then secondly because your eyes danced around the room and it looked even worse than what you remembered. Ignoring her previous implications, you questioned her desire to how tidy she wanted this room. With an echoed laugh, she turned her attention to the door barreling open and Fred slipping through the door, “Ah, Mr Weasley, just when I was starting to get worried.”

You turned your back to Fred, not having the energy to deal with him, and you missed the smile he sent your way. “You know I’d never disappoint you, Professor.” You rolled your eyes at the charm lacing through his tone, distancing yourself as far from him as you could and started stacking tables on top of one another. You grimaced at the layer of dust flying around you and tried to swat it with no success. The sound of Fred chuckling made you glance over your shoulder to see him standing there alone, the door clicking on McGonagall’s way out.

“What?” you snapped.

“What?” Fred mimicked you, sitting down on a random chair. He kicked his feet up on a desk, tilting back in the chair slightly and swinging his arms behind his head.

“So what? You’re not going to do anything?” you asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “You got us into this mess.”

“You’ll actually soon realise that if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have got caught.” Raising your brow in his direction, you challenged his statement. “If you weren’t being weird and staying at the library, I wouldn’t have bumped into you and we wouldn’t have been in this office.”

You scoffed, “If you weren’t such a dimwit, we wouldn’t have been in this office.”

“Dimwit, wow,” Fred chuckled, “What age are you, five?”

You stared at him in disbelief, shaking your head and letting out an annoyed sigh, “Just do some fuckin’ work.” You turned on your heels, letting his next sentence fall on deaf ears as you blocked him out. You tried to ignore him as best as you could, the next thirty minutes passing by excruciately slow. It seemed that after five minutes of sitting, Fred got bored of his own company and started stacking chairs and pushing them into the corner with ease.

“Where are you spending the holidays?” Fred asked, breaking the silence.

“Why do you want to know?” you retorted earning a groan from him. You turned your attention to him, watching him lift his navy jumper over his head. Your eyes fell to the exposed area of his abdomen as his t-shirt got caught in the process, you felt yourself becoming flushed and looked away quickly before you got caught. “I’m going to my Grandma’s,” you gave in, finally answering his question.

“I thought Ginny mentioned something about you staying with us.”

“Y-yeah, that was the original plan but I have to go back home,” you mumbled, feeling the sides of your mouth twitch.

“Is everything okay?” Fred asked, he sat on the top of a desk, his legs dangling beneath him. You found yourself closing the gap between your body as the conversation went on, becoming weirdly comfortable with him. This was probably the longest you have ever been in the same room with Fred alone and the hatred that was so often accompanied between you was elsewhere. It felt strange.

You shrugged your shoulders, not knowing what has got into you, why were you opening up to Fred Weasley? “I got a letter from my parents last week, grandma is ill so..”

“That’s understandable,” Fred sighed, his eyes lingering on your features. You avoided his eye contact, feeling the air thicken between you, “Why do you hate me?”

The question caught you off guard and he could tell straight away when your eyes snapped to his and your brows creased together, “What?” you choked out.

“Why do you-”

“No, I heard you,” you snapped, running your fingers through your hair, “What made you ask that?”

Fred pouted, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he thought of a reasonable explanation as to why he was trying to change the dynamics between you. “Honestly, I don’t know, I just want to know why you hate me so much.”

“Fred, why do you hate me?”

“Because you hate me,” he chuckled. His words made you laugh, shaking your head and when he looked up at you, he couldn’t help himself but start laughing as well and soon enough, you both were laughing together in disbelief.

When the laughing died down, you were standing closer to him with a smile tugging on your lips, “You’re a bit of a twat,” you said.

“And you’re a bit of a princess,” he smirked, his brown eyes sparkling in amusement. It was easy to see the differences between Fred and George; in your eyes, they looked completely different. George’s smirk made you want to cradle his face whereas Fred’s smirk made you want to slap it off his face, with your own lips. The thought awoke you from the daze you were in, panic washing over you to see Fred’s features softening. He let out a shaking breathe before he wrapped his fingers around the material of the checkered shirt you were wearing. The startle movement made you stumble forward, but before you could protest, his lips found yours swiftly. For a split second, you felt yourself float away, to a place where there was none of this back and forward conflict. A place where you could relish in one another's company.

It was a happy place, but that was before your eyes shot open and a loud gasp ceased the moment. You pushed him away, wiping your lips with the sleeve of your shirt. "w-what the bloody hell was that?"

You wanted to smack the smirk off Fred's face, the amusement swirling in his eyes irking every bone in your body. "c'mon, it was bound to happen.."

Any ounce of respect that had developed in the last couple of hours that you gained for Fred completely vanished and he could tell by the way you were gawking at him in shock, “It was never going to happen,” you snapped. You stepped away from him, shaking your head.

“y/n, it’s all too expected,” Fred tried to defend him, sitting up from the table he was leaning on, “in all those movies and tv shows you watch, the two that hate each other the most usually fall in-”

“They’re movies, Weasley!” you shrieked, the walls shaking with the tone, “They’re fantasy, they’re… they’re not real life.”

“Why can’t they be?” Fred wondered aloud.

It took you a moment to process his question, your eyes shifting to look at him finally. You watched him gulped, his bottom lip sucked under his teeth, and it all fell into place. The vulnerable look on his face, the pleading in his eyes, made you soften slightly, your heart hammering against your chest. “D-don’t tell me you love me,” you whispered.

Fred’s shoulders lost all the tension they held, drooping down along with the frown on his face that gave you all the answers you needed. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly.

“Fred,” you breathed out, “This is bizarre.”

“You’re acting as if I had a bloody choice in the matter,” Fred hissed, his long fingers running through his hair, brushing it away from his face.

“Of course you do!”

“No, no I didn’t,” Fred stalked up to you, his body towering over you but he wasn’t angry or annoyed, he was desperate, “I woke up one morning and had these sudden feelings for you, but do you understand how hard it was for me when you couldn’t even be in the same room as me?”

You opened your mouth to answer him, but common sense made you see it was a rhetorical question, so you closed it and only stared up at him with wide eyes. There was nothing you could say in this moment to make it better or to make any sense of it. “When?” was all you asked.

“Christmas,” he answered honestly, making your brows cease together, “three years ago.”

“Three years?” you gasped, “Why did you act like you hated me?”

Fred sighed, creating space between your bodies again, “I thought the more I pretended to hate you, eventually my heart would catch up and stop loving you but..” He turned his back to you, swallowing back the heartache he was feeling and placed his hands on the table in front of him, his hands balled into fists. But he only fell in love with you more.

“I’m sorry,” he heard you whisper, the feign touch of your hand on the back of his shirt before it disappeared just as quick. Fred took a few moments to himself, trying to control his breathing and when he turned around to face you, he was met with emptiness. You were nowhere in sight, your bag that rested on the back of a chair gone as well. “Fuck,” Fred mumbled, wanting to scream into the abyss but pulled out his wand and muttered a quick spell to tidy the rest of the office up, trying to hold back the tears that wanted to escape.

Fred hid under the radar for the weeks that passed, hardly being the usual trickster that people were fond of. Everyone that passed the sulking boy in the corridor sent him looks of confusion, some even asked if he was okay to which he brushed them off. George had become worried when it was week three without tormenting any of the professors, and because George was worried beyond reason, you were non-stop hearing about Fred and it pained you knowing that you were the reason for his sudden change in behaviour.

Christmas came and went, the snow started to melt and the leaves were blossoming once again. It was safe to say you were enjoying the peace and quiet in Hogwarts, not having to come up with a comeback every five minutes to fight off the irritation that was Fred Weasley. Deep down, however, there was an abundance of loss. You missed him. It shocked you more than anything but it was true. You missed the sound of his voice, you missed his smart ass comments, you missed him more than you ever thought you would. Maybe there were some underlying feelings and your mind was brought back to the dreams that he occupied, the theme of them made it feel more real.

Sighing into your breakfast, you came to the realisation that morning that you had in fact had feelings for Fred Weasley. “What’s got you mopping?” your eyes lifted to see George sitting down in front of you, no sign of Fred anywhere. The Great Hall was rather crowded for this hour in the morning, there was a buzz in the air.

“I just realised I had feelings for someone,” you admitted loudly, earning every inch of George’s attention, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

“And what are you going to do about them?”

Your eyes connected with your best friend’s stare, your brows creasing together. “You know?” you asked hesitantly, earning an eye roll from George.

“It’s not hard to put two and two together, kiddo,” he chuckled, pouring himself some orange juice, “he’s down at the Quidditch pitch.”

There were so many questions running through your mind but there wasn’t much time. The feelings were overwhelming and you were near sure that you’ve missed your chance with whatever could possibly blossom between you and Fred. You darted from the Great Hall, pushing past crowds of students, ignoring their displeased looks and ran like your life dependent on it towards the Quidditch pitch. When you arrived, your lungs burning and your heart racing, your mood deflated seeing the area completely empty. With your hands on your hips, you tried to catch your breath, sweat beading on your hairline. “Fuck,” you breathed out, turning on your heels but only to halt in your step at the sight of Fred Weasley.

“Looking for me, y/l/n?” he questioned, his voice not as daunting as it used to be. It was flat and soft, something new for him.

“You’re the guy that pretended to hate a girl for years to make her fall in love with you, right?” you asked, a small smirk tugging at the ends of your lips. Fred rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “What if I told you it worked?”

“I’d say buzz off and stop messing with me.”

There was a moment between you and Fred, a moment of understanding where he stared at you from where he stood, the pleading in both of your eyes that showed this was just as awkward for you as it was him. It was different. The change in your interactions was something to get used to, wanting to be around Fred was new. Wanting to kiss him was a thought so out of this world that it blew you away. “I’m sorry I had you sulking for so long.”

Fred chuckled, taking a few steps closer to you until there was just enough space to breath in. For the first time in his life, Fred felt nervous staring at the person that he longed for for so long. “It would have been easier for us both if you just told me you felt the same that day.”

“Life’s never easy, is it?”

“Not when you’re involved,” he winked, the familiar smirk making its way back to his face for the first time in weeks, “I know I didn’t ask permission last time, but..”

“Yes,” you breathed out, this time being the one to wrap your fingers around his collar and pulling him towards you. Your lips pressed against his, the kiss soft and expected this time. Your lips moved in sync, his arms circling around your waist and pulling your closer. The kiss was perfect, and it was something you could get used to.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred #fred weasley imagines #weasley twins #harry potter #Harry Potter imagines #Harry Potter fanfic #Fred Weasley fanfic #fred fanfic #Fred Weasley tiktok #weasleytok #freddie #fanfic

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h2bakugou · 3 years

Note

hello! May I please have a Dabi x fem reader in the lov who likes to draw? I think she finds his scars and stuff to be a work of art in itself and is like (oh heck I gotta sketch this). He glances at what she’s drawing and she gets all flustered! Maybe he even takes his shirt off at one point which can lead to some other things~ (I like smut but if you think fluff fits the prompt better that’s alright with me!) Thank you and I love your writing!

a/n: hii! of course love! this is super sweet omg i love dabi, i feel like i dont capture his character very well but imma try like hell😩😩this is probably ooc for him but it’s sappy and i love it

summary: dabi’s hard to read, but that doesn’t stop you from sketching him. you find beauty in his flaws, entranced by his scars, so much so that dabi can’t help but be interested in you.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, sappy romance bc i love this man, some spicy themes, one mention of a slight(possible? idrk what counts) manga spoiler (e.g. dabi’s past/history) (manga spoilers in tags!!)

wordcount: 2k

;cut due to suggestive themes;

»»————-　★　————-««

It’s never been a really big secret that you liked drawing. But when it comes to working for the league, specifically, the League of Villains, your line of work doesn’t allow for very much downtime unless you’re in the midst of planning some sort of attack or rebellion.

Whether or not the league keeps hopping from rendezvous spot to rendezvous spot isn’t up to you, but you never fail to get a little used to the eerily calming silence that falls upon the league during the first twenty-four hours of the new four walls that seem to keep you safe for the time being.

With a barely sharpened pencil in your hand, a small drawing pad in the other, you’re staring at Dabi as you sketch him.

It started as a bit of a joke, maybe just teasing him since he liked to tease you about being into him since you were the only one he was really super close, if you could call being the first one he spoke to every time he saw you or the one you sought out to be paired up with during missions, ‘super close.’

But now, it was something you enjoyed.

Dabi was one among the very interesting members of the league. Something about his scars just seemed to entrance you. Pulling you in further and further down a rabbit hole of questions that you had but never let leave past your lips.

It felt wrong to ask, not that it was a bad thing to be curious, but because Dabi was just so mysterious. No one knew anything about him, or about who he was, his past, even his real name was a mystery.

It felt wrong to disturb the unnerving peace that was Dabi. The resting expression on his features balancing on a thin cable between anger and poor personal resilience.

Dabi’s scars were the highlight of your sketches, always standing out. What the others may have thought to be ugly, or unattractive, you thought were beautiful, and emotional.

There was a story behind them, one you wanted to know, one you wanted to uncover and read, page by page, line by line, and word for word, discovering just how truly deep Dabi’s past was. But only Dabi could show you that, only Dabi could open that book for you. And you were willing to wait. You’d wait an eternity if you had too.

His rough raven hair is messy and strewn about as you scribble down his facial features, the groggy lighting making it just a tad difficult to see as you lead the pencil over the warm white paper littered with graphite covered fingerprints.

His arms are positioned on a counter, the art work resembling how he was sitting sloped against the kitchen table, elbows pressed against the dark mahogany wood, hands resting by his mouth as his cerulean eyes peer off at the cracked cement wall in front of him, occasionally glancing back at you.

The other members of the league were scattered about but it didn’t bother you. Toga asked you a couple of questions, wondering what you were doing, if you were excited about the new plans and such.

You replied quietly as to not disturb the peace.

But soon some of the members left, going off to go eat or find something to do. And soon you were among the few left behind, along with Dabi, Shigaraki and Mr. Compress.

Having almost finally finished your current sketch, you were stopped by a pair of hands picking up your drawing pad. Rough and calloused fingers drew your pad away and your attention away.

“Hey I’m not finished.” You glanced up at Dabi. Dabi just admired the talent poured into the sketch. Dabi couldn’t wrap his head around why you drew him so often, but he didn’t mind. It was kind of touching in a way.

“Is that really what I look like?” Dabi joked, handing you back your sketch pad.

“You have looked in a mirror once before, right?” You titled your head to the side, adding a bit more detail to his scars as you began to draw again.

“A few times. But I’d rather look at you, doll.” Dabi’s hands reached down again, this time pulling at your hands. Leading you out of the room where the other two members sat, finding a way to entertain themselves, Dabi lead you up some stairs in questionable condition.

Picking a random room, he sat down on the rickety bed and waited for you to sit down.

“Why’s that?” You tease, returning to drawing, looking up at him every few seconds to reference. And to admire him.

“You’re easy on the eyes, beautiful and-”

“Are you saying you’re not beautiful, Dabi?” You stopped him, not pausing to look at him.

“I’m not beautiful, I’m gorgeous.” Dabi chuckled, shaking his head jokingly as he laid back against the bed, his head dangling off the opposite end.

“You are.” You confirm. Finally finishing up your sketch. You get up and walk over to him, handing him the finished sketch.

“You add so much detail to my scars. They’re just scars.” The tips of Dabi’s ears flush as heat floods to his face. He’s flustered but he won’t admit it. He can’t understand why you think he’s so beautiful.

You don’t speak. For the first time, you’re speechless. You sit down beside Dabi, and now that he’s sitting up, he faces you.

You reach your hands out and gently lift one of his arms, holding one of his hands in your own. You run your fingers across the scarred flesh, gently caressing his skin.

His hands are cold compared to your warm fingers. He’s getting chills all down his spine as you touch him. It’s not meant to be anything out of the ordinary, but he’s still shocked that he’s letting you touch him.

“Your scars are beautiful. I’m sure there’s a story, something about them that might make you hate them, but I love them, and I think they make you that much more beautiful. You are a masterpiece, every scar a carefully calculated brushstroke on a beautiful canvas.” Your words finally come out, overflowing with love. You can’t sit quietly anymore.

“Dabi you are beautiful.” Your eyes lock with his, and you can tell he’s unsure of what to do.

Dabi no longer felt he had the ability to cry, but if he’d let himself, he would’ve done it in that moment. Being so open and vulnerable around you just happened. It came too easily, and he hated it, but he loved you.

Pulling his arm away form your warm touch, he tossed his jacket off and to the side before tearing his shirt away from his body, allowing you to see his chest, and more of his scar covered skin.

Sitting quietly with a faint blush on your cheeks, you couldn’t look away. trying to avoid staring directly at his toned chest and his nipples, you raised your hand and allowed your fingers to sink down across his sternum.

Soon your fingers were met with his abs, which the heat on your face noticed far too well.

“Say it again.” Dabi mumbled. You lifted your head to look into his eyes again, your hand still resting against his chest.

“You are beautiful-” The moment the words left your lips, Dabi’s own lips were pressed against yours. Kissing you roughly, more than he intended too, his hands mangled into yours, pushing your arms over your head.

His heart was pounding and it felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest onto yours. Pulling away for a few seconds, Dabi’s hair covered his eyes as he looked down, finding interest in the collar of your shirt.

“I want you.” Dabi’s words were simple, but they didn’t have to be complex. You knew what he meant, and you knew what he wanted. You wanted it too. A chance to see him in a different light, with deeper meaning.

A chance to connect with him, one on one.

“Then take me.” Your fingers intertwined with his, your arms still resting above your head. It didn’t take long for his lips to magnetize back to yours, sticking to them like glue.

When Dabi thought about sex, he didn’t come anywhere close to making love. There wasn’t that sort of option when it came to him. He didn’t think he was at all capable of love, let alone a relationship that was going to have any sort of emotional connection strong enough to make him feel stable.

But you, you were so vastly different from anyone he’d ever fucked. So different from an excuse to get his dick wet, to get his mind off of league business or heaven forbid, his past.

But you, you were what he needed, what he wanted. It was far from therapy, but it’d work. Having you around was like a drug, addicting, and he’d be going through withdrawals if he couldn’t have you.

Feeling you, touching you, fucking you, kissing you, it was fuel to his fire. He was damaged goods, broken and shattered, impossible to put together, but you were doing your best, working on the smallest parts, exercising precautions, and opening your heart to him.

Hearing his name in the form of your moans as he rutted into you, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips drove him wild, much like the way your hands tangled into his hair, forcing his head into your chest where he kissed and sucked on your skin, leaving marks.

Your moans and his own grunts of pleasure were spewing from the locked room. Dabi didn’t care if the others heard, he was enjoying the moment.

Every part of it. Every part of you, every part of your body, your words, your love. And before he knew, Dabi was at his highest, his face flush against your naked chest, breathing heavily as he inhaled your scent.

Still inside you, he didn’t move, allowing the two of you to catch your breath. It was in this moment, if Dabi allowed himself to cry, he would’ve cried a second time. He was so infatuated with you, so attached.

“I love you.” Your words scared him, causing his cerulean eyes to peak at you through locks of his noir hair.

“That’s stupid.” Dabi kissed your sternum, kissing up your chest, stopping at your neck to leave a little mark, only to meet at your lips in the end.

“How?” You ask softly, your hands massaging his scalp as his lips hover over yours.

“I can’t explain it, it just is.” Dabi frowned, trying to understand what your eyes were saying as they clouded with emotion.

“Love is complex, and I think that maybe you’ve never really had good experiences with it. If you’d let me, I could show you just how beautiful it can be.” You offer, a small smile on your lips.

“If you feel the need-”

“I do. I love you, and I want you to know love.” You kissed his forehead. Dabi eventually pulled out, not minding the mess, he’d clean up later.

“I want you to know why I love you.” You whispered, hugging him closer to you.

“Why I love your scars, your hands, your strength, the rasp in your voice, all of it. I love.” Dabi’s arms are strung over your waist as he lays, face nuzzled in your neck. It’s a bit of a stretch for him, and he feels out of place, but it’s oddly comfortable.

The next couple of times you draw Dabi, you ask to see him shirtless again. And with every new sketch, there’s something new to be learned, for Dabi. He’s learning about love, and loving you.

He finds that you still draw him incredibly cute, and though he won’t admit it, he loves when you draw him. He’ll pose for you if you ever ask, and you always tease him a little about how it was like he was born to be a model.

It’s a long road ahead of you, but it’s one you’re willing to take, to show Dabi just how important love is.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

#dabi #dabi x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #touya #touya x reader

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

A Lazy Day with MC and the Brothers

I was just chilling one day and thought about how a lazy day in with our boys might be like… I like hijinks, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes we ought to slow down too, you know?

Check my Masterlist for more!

Warning: Slight NSFW-ish? I dunno how to tag innuendo...

Lucifer

First off, hats off for managing to convince the guy to just do nothing for any length of time. That’s some seriously impressive persuasive powers, MC, you sure you don’t know how to charm?

Lazy Lucifer=Sleepy Lucifer. He spends so many nights up late getting work done then follows it up by getting up early in order to wrangling his brothers. It's honestly like it all catches up with him... He’s sleeping in and he’s sleeping in HARD.

Might text one of his brothers to bring them in a late breakfast at some point (never mind the fact it’s practically dinner). Beel would be the one most likely to agree to it, but he also may just eat whatever he picked up on the way there so hopefully someone else is feeling charitable… Try Asmo.

Honestly, his entire goal is to not leave the bedroom at all. If he leaves, then he runs the risk of people seeing him… wait for it... relaxing. Oh, just imagine the scandal!!

Some classical music, a bit of conversation, and maybe a good book in bed would all sound like heaven to him. They may have to get up to make some tea to go along with it, just remind him that drinking coffee on your recharge days can have the opposite effect. The taste of coffee could always just end up reminding him of work anyway…

The evening can go one of two ways. Calm and peaceful or "stress relieving." If they chose the stress relieving option, best be prepared because he'll have a whole night's worth of stress to let out and he's going to need some help… 😏

Mammon

He’s going to want to be close to the MC the whole time, they can hold onto him or him onto them, whatever works. It doesn’t matter as long as there’s still some kind of contact happening.

A whole day with just him and the MC? And they don’t even have to be doing anything? Where can he sign up??

Cue a lot of doing nothing in particular with Mammon tangled up on them in some way: hugging their waist while he checks his phone, resting their legs on his lap during a gaming session, wrapping himself around them while they just have casual conversation. That kind of thing.

When they eventually get hungry then he might pop down to the kitchen and make them some instant noodles (I wouldn’t trust much else he tries to make since… well we know he kind of just adds whatever’s around to his food).

He might start getting a little restless part of the way through the day though, so they’re going to have to do something to get that energy out… 🤔

Use your imagination, I know this fandom can.

Leviathan

The reigning Prince of Lazy Days. Everything about Levi screams “goof off/game night buddy” (at least if the MC is a fellow otaku anyway).

He probably didn’t sleep the night before because he was playing/watching something so the morning will go down one of two ways: 1) He just pulls an all-nighter and begins to progressively lose his mind as the day goes on, or 2) He’s dead to the world until 2pm. Only one of those options is entertaining so you know what I'm going with.

Things will go pretty smoothly through the morning. They don’t have to go anywhere because his room has plenty of snacks so they can just chill out and watch anime or play video games.

Buuut stuff will get more dicey as the afternoon rolls around and his sleep deprivation sets in. He’ll start losing a lot of his filter and may ramble for even longer than normal with even less coherency. He’ll also get more um… "bold" than usual.

Or he may just want to cuddle with them while he babbles on about how much he loves them and how warm they are and how much they remind him of Henry, which reminds him have they seen the latest season of “My Life with Seven Demon Brothers Who All Love Me!” yet because the main character there also reminds him of them and-

He’ll pass out eventually, probably latched onto them somehow with his tail around them tenderly. Don’t bring it up to him in the morning because he will unsuccessfully try to deny it ever happened.

Satan

Not opposed to the occasional lazy day. It actually does good for his nerves since holding in all that pent-up anger can feel like stuffing an elephant into a tea kettle sometimes...

They’re going to want to get him out of his bedroom or the library if they don’t want to fight for his attention against whatever new book he’s eating through today. When the man gets engrossed then it’s like nothing else matters, the House could split in two and he'll only notice if he suddenly can’t reach his drink anymore...

May actually be advantageous to go outside with him, take a nice stroll around the House while having some interesting conversation. They could poke his brain about anything that suits their fancy while they’re out amongst the trees and nature.

If they don’t want to go outside and rather take their chances with the book then okay but the engrossment problem still applies. He may even forget to eat...

Best way to combat his lack of attention is to be a little brat that’s juuust cute enough not to piss him off. It’s a delicate balance. That means getting real close to him, like sitting on his legs, and just occasionally reminding him of their presence with longing looks while tapping, flicking, or messing with the book from time to time (yes, kind of like an attention-seeking cat).

Play it just right and they’ll get attention on them alright, but he may also be looking to punish his “needy kitty." Hope that’s what they’re aiming for... 🤷‍♀️

Asmodeus

Really? They want to do nothing? Nothing at all? Are they sure they don’t want to do him instead...? 😏

A relaxing day with Asmo is more or less like a day spent wrapped up in mutual worship and adoration. The guy wants all of their attention and love but he’ll return it and then some. As long as they treat him like the love of their lives it will honestly be like having their own day spa day in Heaven.

If the MC wants to relax, then he’s just the sort to know how to provide for them both. The only question is how do they want it?

The man can give them a full treatment, I mean, just look at his bathroom alone! A good soak in a hot bath, facial masks, back massages, mani-pedis, just say the word MC and he’s more than willing to bestow whatever their little heart desires. That’s his job, isn’t it?

Asmo may be a party boy, but if it’s a little TLC you need, emphasis on the T, then look no farther MC. He’s the guru.

On the flipside if they’re looking for a little release well… who better to ask than Asmo right? He’ll make sure they’ll never want to leave that bed again. 🤭

Beelzebub

As long as snacks are still involved then he’s all in, babe. He’ll do nothing with them all day as long as they keep him fed.

Two words. Couples. Cooking. They can’t skip a meal with Beel so if they’re going to spend lazy time with the dude then they better be planning on being a tag along to the kitchen.

It doesn’t have to be a super strict though, it’s not like they’re not cooking with Barbatos or anything, so they can goof off and make a bit of a mess together. Chances are Beel will eat the ingredients to whatever they’re making anyway so... 😅

A lot of lingering touches and just being close to each other as they go. He might want to hold their waist while they stir or they end up feeding each other in cutesy ways... Really it’s a ridiculously wholesome time.

At one point a food fight may break out and they'll cover themselves in flour, tomato sauce, or some other kind of messy food substance...

Careful, MC. Whatever they get covered in will likely only make them look more delicious to him and he might want to "clean them off".... They'll need to take that out of the kitchen, though, like what if someone needs a snack??

Belphegor

The reigning King of Lazy Days. Take notes, MC, for you are watching the Master at work...

Sleeping in and cuddling is a must. He will not let them leave the bed all morning for anything less than a Category Four Emergency (i.e. “I’m going to starve to death” or “I really gotta go piss”). He will pin them under his sleeping body if he has to!

Once they’ve thoroughly missed breakfast and half past noon rolls around he might call in takeout from Hell’s Kitchen for them to eat in the attic room. Expect some cheeky conversation, probably jokes at the expense of his brothers. Cuddling is still absolutely happening, of course, they cannot shake him off.

May borrow an anime from Levi to watch while they snuggle on the couch. He has all the best blankets in the House so they will be neither cold nor uncomfortable throughout.

His hands get a little grabby during these kinds of cuddle sessions, especially during tense moments in the show because he likes to give them a little jolt to make them yelp, the jerk... 😖

If he manages to not drift off during the show (flip a coin on that chance) the night will end in the planetarium, backs on a pile of blankets while they draw pictures in the stars… All hail the King. 😏

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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the-gilbird · 4 years

Text

so i haven’t really posted anything like this before. but fuck it, because good omens is amazing, and i just shared this with the discord server, and they encouraged me to share it here, so. let’s-a-go, i guess

anyway. so. here it is.

so, we all know crowley is capable of massive feats, in terms of miracles. he can stop time on a whim. he can make a car make it through a ring of whatever the fuck kind of flame surrounded london via the m25, and then have it continue to function for several hours after that. he can pull two other entities (including the fucking antichrist) into what i can only assume to be a pocket dimension or something similar outside of time when one of the most powerful entities in the goddamn universe was approaching their location. and we also know why he is capable of the things he does: his imagination. crowley's creativity and imagination are one of the most powerful forces in the goddamn universe and that's not even an exaggeration. now, the other thing. aziraphale. he's smart, and cunning, and the biggest thing working against him is his lack of confidence in his abilities. he deciphered a large portion of agnes nutter's notoriously fucky riddles in one night. he figured out how to possess someone, despite no angel having done it before. and the reason he isn't higher in the pecking order in heaven is because he's kind, and loves the way angels should; and he is told for six millenia that he is not a good angel, which feeds into the lack of self confidence. but after ain'tmaggedon, he's free of heaven's influence. in fact, the only influence he really has now is crowley. and crowley's loved him for that six millenia, and probably sings his praises as often as he can now that crowley is likewise free of hell's influence, because he is a dumbstruck loveass. so aziraphale is more confident in his own abilities and traits, now. and aziraphale is intelligent. agnes nutter's final prophecy got them out of heaven and hell's line of view, and gave them time. but they won't stay away forever; crowley acknowledged that, right after the switch back in the garden. and aziraphale knows that it's only a matter of time before someone notices some discrepency, and they get caught (there's ten million angels and ten million demons, after all. someone's going to notice). so aziraphale begins to plan.

the first thing he does is plant the seeds, if you'll pardon the pun. after things have been settled for some time, he starts researching. pulling out the oldest ethereal (and occult) texts he owns (which are very old, and very numerous), and researching everything he can about the nature of angels and demons, and the nature of holy water and hellfire. and this takes up some time (seeds need to take root, after all. crowley needs to see him doing the research, after all). and occasionally, exactly as aziraphale knows he will, crowley will ask aziraphale what he's looking into, and aziraphale will say he's looking into protections against hellfire and holy water, for if heaven and hell ever figure out their little misdirection. (and crowley will hem and haw at him for referring to deceiving the entireties of heaven and hell, one of the greatest wiles ever pulled off in all of time, with the same language used to talk about magic tricks. and aziraphale will smile, because he loves every part of crowley.) and this will continue. and eventually, aziraphale will tell crowley that he's made a breakthrough. of course, aziraphale won't actually have made that big of a breakthrough. he has everything he needs by day three. but crowley needs to believe it. crowley needs to believe that aziraphale spent that entire time researching and plotting and planning and reading, because aziraphale is the smartest person that crowley knows, and if anyone can figure it out, his angel can. but what aziraphale tells him is that there wasn't any need of a plan at all, really. all this research has essentially been for moot. well, not for moot, because now they both know, but they didn't actually need to do anything with the information, aziraphale explains, because they're already safe, and have been for some time.

because, aziraphale says, holy water and hellfire can't affect them anymore. because crowley loves him with all of his heart, aziraphale explains, and he loves crowley with all of his. (don't technically have a heart, crowley says, still a bit blown away, what on account of them having corporations and not bodies, and all. oh hush, you know what i mean, aziraphale says back, and gives crowley a kiss on the forehead for his trouble.) and if a demon loves an angel, really loves them, hellfire won't burn them, because hellfire is the creation of demons, beings of destruction, generally, fueled by the hatred of their opposition, and so if a demon doesn't hate angels, it won't burn as strongly. and if a demon loves an angel, just one, then the angel won't be destroyed. and it works the same the other way 'round with holy water, aziraphale says, more excitedly, as crowley watches him enraptured, because holy water is blessed by angels, used to wipe out the opposition which they hate. and so if an angel loves a demon, that demon will be protected from the blessing, even blessings created by other angels. because love is a powerful force, it is the basis of the creation of humanity, when god first whispered the idea of them into being. when you love someone and have that love returned, you are giving yourself, wholely and completely, to another, and everything you are protects them with everything you have. it just so happens, aziraphale finishes by saying, that the respective weaknesses and strengths of angels and demons balance out rather nicely. humans put this phenomenon into very nice words, once; you must be subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being known, in order to get the rewards of being loved. and so they are ready. when they come (and they do come, they were always going to come, eventually), they take aziraphale first, just like last time. but unlike last time, aziraphale and crowley are together when their respective former head offices come to deal the killing blows. holy water said to be blessed by the almighty herself, and hellfire harvested from the deepest pits of hell, fueled by satan's everlasting rage. the strongest stuff there is, just so there is every guarentee. (the water fizzles gabriel's skin lightly, even, as a drop falls out as he carries it over, and the fire roars with a heat that even beelzebub inches away from.) it is volatile, it is deadly, and there is absolutely no hope for the traitors now. (or there wouldn't be, if aziraphale weren't so smart.) and crowley is shackled to the ground, his shoulders restrained by... demons? angels? he doesn't know, and he doesn't rightly care at this point, they're all the same to him, forcing him to face aziraphale, shackled and bound just as he is, being led into a roaring inferno of the hottest hellfire crowley has ever seen. and he knows, he knows they're safe, aziraphale looked into every possibility and he trusts aziraphale, trusts him with everything, trusts him with the name he had before the Fall and even with that he can't help struggling, and snarling, and doing everything he can to get out and run to his angel, trying every trick in the book but it's not working because there are too many enemies abound, too many hands holding him down and restraining him as his head is pulled back by his hair and he is forced to watch as aziraphale is shoved into the flames.

(aziraphale knew this, too. crowley is the heart, out of the two of them, he always was, and heaven and hell want every bit of revenge they can get, they want it to hurt. they know it will hurt worst if crowley is forced to watch the love of his life die in front of him, unable to do anything, and for aziraphale to die knowing that he can't protect crowley from what is coming next.) (really, it's no wonder aziraphale figured out agnes nutter's prophecies so quickly; for being two completely different entities, they think with remarkable similarity.) but aziraphale has already protected crowley. he has already protected both of them, because he is the smartest being crowley has ever known, and because he knows crowley, just as crowley knows him. and he knows crowley is, hands down, one of the most powerful beings in all of creation, and crowley's imagination is a force never to be reckoned with. all that stuff aziraphale spouted, about how a love from a demon can protect an angel, and vice versa? bullshit. complete and utter bullshit. aziraphale found what he needed to in those books he researched, and what he needed was just enough solid evidence for him to convince CROWLEY that it was true. it is the biggest, boldest, most daring lie aziraphale has ever told, and he will never tell crowley the truth because he can't. (he has practice, with this whole lying thing. he's lied to humans, he's lied to heaven, hell, he's even lied to crowley before. and he promised crowley he would never tell him another lie again but this one, this one he really can't help, not if it means keeping them both safe, and aziraphale will keep this close to his chest until the end of time. and he will only regret it for a single instance, and that is when he hears crowley's scream as he is thrown into hellfire.) the hellfire doesn't touch him. it can't touch him, because crowley believes it won't. despite being made of the purest anger the universe has ever known, it wraps around aziraphale like a warm embrace, like a gentle smile, like a 'welcome home.' and as crowley sees aziraphale's figure unwavering in the fire, his cry cuts out, and he smiles even as he is drenched, because it worked, just like aziraphale said it would. (and it worked. just like crowley thought it would, aziraphale thinks, as he smiles and sighs a breath of relief that they are finally (finally) safe.)

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #character study #i think? maybe? a bit of one anyway #draws on elements of headcanon and assumption #but overall aligns with canon i think #aziraphale is a genius #crowley has an imagination #lmk if you want me to tag something else #uh #the mortifying ordeal of being known #the rewards of being loved

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taetaespeaches · 4 years

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I remember you once got a question about how the couples handled being separated due to tours, so based on that, what do you think would be the first thing each couple do when the boys return from tour and how would the girls receive them? Btw I loved your last Jimin fic, it was really cute! Have a nice day :)

Hi love! Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed the fic <3 I seriously love this question so much, the idea of bts coming home to you after being away for so long is just :(( soft. So I decided to turn this into a bulleted type of reaction thing, I hope you enjoy.

p.s. this is completely unedited so please forgive any errors <3

Seokjin:

Probably yells some dorky thing like “Honey, I’m home” when he walks into apartment

Poopsie comes running through the place and jumps into his arms almost knocking him over

She’ll tease him by asking “What did you bring me?”

And he responds with “My handsome face” followed by a squeaky laugh

As she’s rolling her eyes but laughing because she genuinely loves his lame jokes, he finally he kisses her

She probably has a fuck ton of food prepared for him

But the food has to wait because as she goes into the kitchen to show him everything she made, he’s watching her and realizes how fucking much he’s missed this woman

Ends up hugging her really tightly and silly Jin is gone for a moment

Grateful happy Jin is here and he just wants to show his Poopsie how much he missed her and loves her

Ends up having sex in the kitchen and then eats all the food afterwards... sanitary

Yoongi:

He’s way too excited to see Kid but heaven forbid he let her know that

This honey boy probably tells Kid his flight lands later than it does and tries to sneak inside to surprise her- but in a cool way- but the door is unlocked so he ends up cursing her under his breath “how many times do I have to tell her to lock the fucking door”

She’s in the shower and he finds himself making a bee line to the bathroom

Popping his head inside, he casually scolds her as if he wasn’t gone on tour for MONTHS

“Did you lock your door once while I was away, Kid?”

Kid jumps and lets out a small scream of surprise before poking her head out of the shower to see Yoongi standing there with an adorable pout on his lips and fuck she missed that pout

The words “What the fuck are you doing here?” are out of her mouth before she even knows she’s saying them

And he can’t help but flash a gummy grin because it’s such a Kid thing to say

“The door was unlocked so I thought I’d just let myself in”

“Shut up and take your clothes off, Min” and Yoongi thinks of making a smart mouthed comment back but instead he just sheds his clothes before making his way to her

As soon as he reaches the shower their arms are wrapped around each other and she’s kissing all over his face, giving special attention to his lips

So many I missed you’s and I love you’s

Kid probably tells him how happy she is to have him home and he just feels so comfortable and happy and fuck the dude is SO IN LOVE

And they’re naked and in the shower, so might as well fuck I guess

Hoseok:

He’s letting Petal know the entire trip exactly where he’s at so by the time he arrives home, she’s waiting at the door

As soon as the door opens Petal is throwing herself at him and Hobi is struggling to hold all his bags as she attacks his face in kisses

As they kiss, Petal is bitching Hobi out for leaving like “I missed you so much, you’re never allowed to leave again, do you know how hard it is to be in this apartment without you?” and Hobi is giggling against her lips as he agrees to never go away again

She finally let’s him inside fully inside the apartment and they sit on the couch and Hobi talks about all sorts of stuff from tour

He’s babbling away excitedly because so much happened and all he wants to do is share it all with his favorite person (even though he already told her everything as it was happening)

Petal keeps stealing kisses as he talks and eventually he just says fuck it and pins her down on the couch

Goes from talkative and cute to heavy and sexy real fucking fast

Namjoon:

He steps inside and Daisy’s sitting on the couch reading a book and he’s like ?? that’s rather calm but ok

And she looks over the book and goes “Well hello stranger”

And he’s like “What are you reading, Babe?” all casual as he sets his bags down at the door

And she’s like “I’m not, I’m just trying to look nonchalant” and then she throws the book over her head and it lands somewhere on the floor and Joon smiles his stunning dimply smile and runs towards her all dorky like- you know the one

Probably dives on top of her and she’s thinking oh fuck ok dude I know you’re a child trapped in a man’s body but you’re like massive chill but she doesn’t say any of that and instead just laughs and wraps her arms and legs around him like a koala

So much kissing

And giggling

And they have sex almost immediately

And then afterwards they cuddle and hold each other and they just stay there for a couple hours because wow they missed each other a lot

Namjoon probably talks and talks and talks about tour and Daisy loves every second of it because he’s so happy

Jimin:

He steps inside the apartment and Dear is waiting at the kitchen island with a bottle of wine and she has a playlist of their favorite songs playing and he almost cries immediately and she’s sitting there trying to hold her own tears back

And she just says “Welcome home, my love” and he smiles at her and that at the same time they hurry toward each other and meet in the middle and they just hug for a really long time

Like one of those massive tight hugs where they’re swaying their bodies and they’re probably both tearing up and confessing how much they love and missed each other

Keep in mind tours bring out some anxiety for them for a good while because of that time Jimin kinda sorta broke up with Dear while he was on tour

Therefore, when they get reunited, it’s emotional

Probably the one couple that doesn’t have sex super soon after he arrives

Instead they do their favorite pastime- drink wine and slow dance around the apartment

He talks about tour and she listens to every word in awe

She talks about what she’s been up to and he acts as though it’s just as exciting as his tour stories because to him it actually is

They’ve both already heard all of the stories but they’re retelling them because why not

He says something like “As much as I love tour and seeing ARMY, being here with you is the best feeling in the world”

And she’s like ok well I’m madly fucking in love with this guys and she just kisses him so goddamn passionately and then they finally get it in

Taehyung:

Look, Peaches had a plan

She was going to greet him at the door with a lingerie set on and they were going to fuck on every surface of the apartment

But his flight landed a little early and quite frankly she lost track of time anyway

She was probably cleaning and got distracted by an old photo album or some shit- you know how that goes- and all of a sudden her front door opens and she’s like “oh fuck” and looks at the lingerie set sitting on the bed like well shit because she’s just sitting on the floor of her bedroom wearing an old t-shirt from high school and sweatpants

She calls out for him and he follows her voice and as soon as he sees her he’s just overwhelmed with emotion because PEACHES

He strides across the room as soon as she stands to greet him, he wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her so deeply and passionately that she nearly loses her balance

Pulling away to look at her, his gaze is intense as he observes her features, taking in every detail because fuck he missed her

And she’s just like “Do you know how much I missed you, Dearest?” and that has him smiling as he throws her onto the bed

And that’s when he notices the lingerie and he’s like “oh?” and she apologizes for losing track of time

And that’s when Tae finally smiles so fucking big and chuckles boyishly and her heart melts because goddammit she hasn’t seen that boxy smile or heard that adorable laugh in person in SO LONG and she pulls him into a kiss

She promises she’ll put the lingerie on for round two and Tae is giggling as he starts taking her lounge clothes off

Because as much as he appreciates the effort and though of the lingerie, he’s just so fucking in love with Peaches and he missed her even more than he realized

Jungkook:

The man gets his damn romance movie kiss ok? ok.

They have no chill

He texts her to let her know he just pulled up and she runs outside to greet him

As soon as he’s out of the car she’s running at him and he catches her and lifts her and kisses her deeply with her legs wrapped around his waist

Probably sets her on the hood of the car and continues kissing her for a moment

When they finally decide like hey we should go inside and stop making out in front of anyone and everyone, she insists on helping carry his bags and he’s whining about how he doesn’t need help and she’s waving him off

As soon as they’re inside, he has her pinned against the back of the door

“You’re such a brat, I told you I could handle the bags”

And she rolls her eyes and he kisses her deeply

And just as it’s getting heavy, she whispers, “I’m so happy you’re home, baby, I missed you more than I thought was even possible”

Well shit, now Guk is S O F T and he’s pressing his forehead against hers and tears form in his eyes

They just stay like that for a moment, taking in the feeling of being together again after so long

Jungkook probably decides in that moment that he’s going to marry this woman some day because anyone who makes him feel so welcomed and loved and appreciated and comforted and happy when he gets home from tour has got to be worth spending the rest of his life with

What probably was going to be rough sex turns into the most romantic passionate sex they’ve ever fucking had

Afterwards Holly’s like “fuck, you should go on tour more often”

and Kookie is giggling like “yeah? well too bad, good luck getting rid of me ever again”

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haifengg · 3 years

Text

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Lucas can’t really go without affection. He needs a smooch at least before he leaves the house or when he says goodbye on dates. He wants to be reminded that their S/O loves him and that he loves them. It’s as easy as this.

B = Before (What were they like when they had a crush?) Dude would try to impress. With bad jokes. With flexing his guns. He would always ask his crush if they want to come with him and the guys to do whatever. And if they agree he wouldn’t really be able to hide his excitement. It would light a spark of pure joy in his eyes. It would be very obvious really.

C = Confession (What was their confession like?) Regardless of his looks and height Lucas still is a very childish man and he’s not that old either. I would honestly go that far and say that during his life he wasn’t the one confessing often. He usually got confessed to. So when it is actually his turn he would probably get all shy around his crush and he maybe asked Kun for advice as well on how to tell them and what to say since he is not the very best with words.

D = Date (What was the first official date they went on?) I am guessing something cheesy. Lucas may or may not be a romantic person but being all nervous about fulfilling expectations and doing a solid job he would take their S/O out to go an amusement park. He is a child really and his sometimes subtle playfulness is probably what attracts his S/O to him as well.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) Please don’t come for me on this one but I recon he would choose a text. As I mentioned in section C = Confession I imagine him being this popular kid in school everyone had a crush on at least once a week. (We’ve all seen the pics he’s adorable.) That being said he maybe got too used to dumping people interested in him. I won’t say it is the same with his S/O as it was with high school sweethearts but he might just fall back into old patterns due to convenience. Breaking up would still hurt him and still be difficult.

F = Fights (What would fights look like? What are things that upset them?) Honestly: Fights with Lucas would be a pain mainly because he doesn’t see where he’s wrong or what the issue exactly is. He is a very loyal person once fully committed but maybe not the most understanding one.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) His emotional way is very gentle. His physical way in terms of hugs and holding hands is too. Simple mind - Simple showings off affection other things we don’t discuss here it is SWF, please

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) Just like Johnny his arms are insanely long and wrapping them tightly around his S/O is just way to nice to not do it constantly.

I = Intimacy (What is their favorite form of intimacy? Do they have problems with it?) He knows why he’s in SM. He got casted off the streets for his looks. He also really radiates the vibes of only being there for the fun and the people only. Lucas is very confident in the way he looks and he is aware of how many thousand people find him insanely attractive. I am pretty sure there are close to no problems when it comes to intimacy but that is something very personal because we know that everyone has at least one issue with themselves which we sometimes could never tell.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) He gets jealous. Not much but he does in general. I am not sure how exactly that would display or how he would show it but overall: Yes he does.

K = Kisses (Are they a good kisser? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) I hope he is. Okay no honestly, hear me out lmao. Lucas ... is either very excellent at kissing or he isn’t. I just look at him and I really hope he is because that would be so grate and elevate him one step closer to being the complete package. He meets the height requirements. He has the hands to hold his S/O. He surely has the lips as well. Which is also where they like to kiss/be kissed the most.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Lucas is the perfect personality type for getting along well with kids. He is goofy enough to play around with them and fun and fool but he is also calm enough to not out-child them and keep an eye on them. He is guiding their playfulness in a way only a few people can.

M = Messages (How often do they text his S/O?) He texts them A LOT when he’s bored. During practice or some random meeting he would get distracted by his phone and text them about how bored he is. Also he would often take pictures or snaps of stupid little things he wants to show them but they’re not around. Speaking of SnapChat: Filters.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Nights out in clubs are hot and fun. Nights out in bars (if they are dates) are hot. Nights out in movie theatre would be so much fun. He would totally get this slushies that turn your tongue in different Colors but would also hold his S/O during scary parts of the movie even though he’s scared himself. Acting all tough

O = Opinion (Would they ask for their S/O’s opinion a lot? How important is it in terms of decisions?) He would ask for their opinion but mainly because he thinks he has to or that they would want to be ask. If it’s about his personal matters. When it comes to mutual decisions it’s different because well of course he asks for his S/O opinion. What they say matters to him and he wants both of them to be comfortable. So when they say that sofa is ugly - it’s ugly.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) Getting on his nerves is quite hard I assume. He probably would be the one getting on his S/O’s nerves (most of the time by accident tho.) If it’s something about them that actually bothers him he will be patient and ask them to maybe change that behaviour for a long time before actually admitting how much it is bothering him and eventually raising his voice.

Q = Quizzes (How does a bar trivia night teamed up with them look like?) A complete mess. Lucas once admitted he is not the smartest one and I adore people who are aware of that and own it in their own way. He would still try his best to not let his S/O and maybe other teammates down. BUT he is still an important part of the team: The one who chugs everything for the sake of the cause. IDK I just see him being able to drink a lot. He radiates this frat boy energy help

R = Remember (How much do they remember about their S/O or their relaitonship in general?) Lucas does his best but he is forgetting a lot. He writes it down in his phone. For example there could be a list for his S/O's family member’s birthdays and all their important anniversaries. He may still forget them tho. When it comes to memory Lucas knows it’s not his forté but he is trying hard.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) He is maybe one of the most protective boyfriends you will find in whole NCT. He shields his S/O from wind or rain, he corners them in crowded subways. He flags and gets in cabs first. He will shove between his S/O and other guys dancing at clubs casually so they don’t notice. He will tell people to fo k off if they are obviously bothering his S/O. He does it all.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) He might be sloppy with everyday chores but he will rather often take his S/O on spontaneous coffee dates or bring home take out aka steal something from the dorm Kun cooked.

U = Unique (What makes them unique as a S/O?) What makes Lucas unique as a S/O is definitely his awareness of his ... stupidity? Now I can see people coming for me for saying this but he once said he is not very smart and he is probably correct about that. His abilities lay more in the practical and emotional/empathic area. So what makes him special is is ability to pull his S/O’s guard down. If they come home from work super stressed he will put their mind at ease by simply talking to them about not so heavy or challenging topic. He will be their save heaven. A place where they don’t need to pretend or to impress. Lucas loves his S/O 190% for their character or quirks and maybe even for their intellect as well but he doesn’t compete with it and is real about himself.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) SO. MUHC. He has sloppy days tho but they will mostly never catch him with greasy hair or anything. And also he is in shape and plans to stay that way.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without their S/O?) He would. If he is not with them for a long time he can feel how he is losing his inner center or balance. Lucas would be fine on his own but honestly exactly just fine.

X = X-Ray (How transparent are they?) Lucas is an open book. He can’t hide anything and he is so easy to fool on like April 1st or some prank they want to play on him. If he’s feeling down they’ll see it. If he’s happy they’ll know it. if he truly loves them it will be on the local news.

Y = Yuck (Everyone has flaws. What is theirs?) Bruh okay. Well. He leaves his underwear everywhere. Or his socks. and he leaves the toilet seat up.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Being asleep he grabs everything and pulls it in close. There is no escape. And I feel like he will wander towards the mid of the bed so if their S/O is avoiding being hold custody they will have no where to go but the sofa or wake him up.

Gif is not mine

Taglist

@jeonghanmoon @kpopsnowball @pocky-otp @himitsu-luna @soleilsuhh @dundun-baby

Masterlist

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kamuiboyfriends · 2 years

Text

Top 5 Romance Club Love Interests

CONTEXT: The only stories I’ve fully caught with up as of the making of this post and therefore, met the LIs of their stories firsthand are the following:

Sails in the Fog S3E9

Moonborn S2E1

Shadows of Saintfour COMPLETED

Wave Patrol COMPLETED

Seduced by the Rhythm COMPLETED

Chasing You S1E2 (RIP lmao)

Heaven’s Secret COMPLETED

Rage of the Titans S2E8

Gladiator Chronicles S1E7

Heart of Trespia S1E7

The Flower from Tiamat’s Fire S1E2

Thanks to @somin-yin for the tagging for this! Now with my limited experience, lemme see if I can craft a top 5😂

(I blame Gladiator Chronicles for having currently little to no confirmation on LIs so if a “Love Interest” from that book happens to show up, I’m just assuming they’re a LI.)

Disclaimer: This list was kinda spontaneously made and on the spot so… yeah. Also I don’t have pictures so they were picked of off the wiki so quality of photos will be meh.

LIST BELOW THE CUT (It gets wordy. Sorry about that😅

Tagging: … I once again don’t know who to tag because everyone seemed to have done this by now. So I guess if you see this and haven’t already been tagged… feel free to make your own top 5!

5. CHARLES (SBTR)

I just like the little backstory of MC and Charles. The whole close bond together in their teens but they get separated due to unfortunate events, then reunites in the future? I kinda like that. Also, he’s hot and sweet which is quite a combo! Then why is he low on the list? Simply put, other stories attracted me more to them and their respective LIs.

4. SAMUEL MAKOTO (CY)

Despite being unfortunately in a story I only have two chapters of experience, I really enjoyed some of the screenshots I saw! (which were mostly about him and Alex being sus but enough about that.) That plus the small time I get to see him in HS. He was one of the few LIs I saw when I was just a newbie to this app and I was just drawn to him, let that speak for itself.

3. MURPHY / JASON (ROTT)

Yeah… I’m putting these two in a tie. As someone who is undecided in their LI in this story, combined with Ares making me wanna act up, I’m literally that meme of the guy sweating because he didn’t know what button to press. For Murphy? Do I need to explain? Man is so damn hot and also quite the softie too! For Jason? I honestly don’t know😆 I was just drawn to him from the start and I REALLY want to explore his route, despite its non-existency but I can wait for as long as I can… I think…

Also yeah I’m probably the one Jason stan in this whole app😀 But this lack of screentime makes me second guess myself cause wtf…

2. HOTCH (GC) (I hope…)

The Jan 2022 update only further cemented my want for this man to be confirmed of LI status. In Episode 7, he was kinda giving flirty and confident vibes? I like that! Am I grasping at straws on a character that might not even be an LI? Probably but that doesn’t mean I like him any less. Also he’s a spy… that’s cool!

1. MALBONTE (HS)

Though I’m not alone in this, I can definitely say that this was a landslide for me. If you can draw me to a whole new app and then exceed my expectations on your character and the story you’re in the way Malbonte did, you’re going on top 1 for me. Why do I like him? There’s something about instilling fear on everyone just by existing that I find attractive LMAO. He’s also REALLY beautiful AND the path I was going for in HS was where I had to balance Angel and Demon points, which was conveniently named the “Path of Malbonte”… You can’t tell me that’s not fate.

END OF POST

#romance club #i don’t know what else to tag this as

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eisforeidolon · 3 years

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to what extent do you think the writers/actors/other people related to the show expected this insane reaction to the finale? i know someone said only 30% of the fans would love the finale, and looking at the general audience i think that's actually lowballing it (although, of course, looking at twitter gives you a much different story.) however, the harrassment of the cast has skyrocketed in the last few months along with suicide baiting of fans. do you think hellers will ever get tired of it?

Dabb was the one that made the 30% joke, and I really don' t think he was actually serious. I might be wrong, but my impression is he was being facetious and just wanted to try and sound cool and edgy by making a sarcastic GoT comparison.

I think they realized certain loud parts of the Very Online fandom were going to go absolutely apeshit - given their past behavior of going apeshit pretty much every even numbered Tuesday over nothing. I also think they expected the brother-centric finale to be popular with the general audience and wincest shippers, which is why they wrote a brother-centric finale.

My questions revolve around what they expected out of 15x18. See, the thing is, the hellers expected the writers to take their side because of all the bleating they've done to each other about how they're the majority/real fans and making their ship canon is the Only Correct Choice. The writers, on the other hand, know it's a big divided fandom plus the casual viewing audience. Why would they do something that's going to baffle the general audience and piss off a large portion of non-shippers and other ship shippers ... just to please a different specific subset of particularly loud shippers of one ship? So I think their expectations when writing the ending they did after 15x18 probably fell into one of two categories:

They really were dumb enough to think throwing such an ambiguous, unrequited bone to the D/C shippers would be enough to appease them and balance out the finale. These are the shippers who can find a totes amazing lurve story in wallpaper and flannel shirts, this is more textual than all that so they'll be happy, right?! We're talking about older nerd-dude writers whose understanding of fans' expectations for what constitutes satisfying fan service may not be the most up-to-date. Writers who have had those shippers blowing smoke up their asses for years now, praising their every choice to the heavens. Someone who isn't very self-aware could actually mistake that for real adulation rather than the desperate sucking up in hopes of a payoff it was. Furthermore, I think Dabb is an appeaser who is happiest riding a fence and I've written off Berens particularly as a moronic putz since the Wayward debacle. If this was the case, I suspect that they have been baffled and dismayed by the volume of the negative reaction and all the conspiracy theories and whatnot that came with.

The alternative is they decided to hand the crazies a metaphorical book of trick matches to make them spontaneously combust in rage on purpose. The knew the scene in 15x18 was ambiguous enough that those portions of the audience who didn't like the ship or remained blissfully unaware of its existence would, even if initially baffled or dismayed by it? Ultimately largely see it as platonic or irrelevant given the entire lack of any kind of follow up, let alone interest shown by Dean, afterward. The normal well-adjusted shippers of that ship would take it and run with it in fanfic, writing fix-it heaven reunions. The crazies, on the other hand? Would work themselves up into an absolute frenzy of expectations only to be violently dashed off a cliff when the last two episodes were entirely Castiel-free and gloriously Sam&Dean-centric. In between the pretty transparent ass-kissing, they've been harassed for years by these fans claiming to be "owed" the payoff they want and been slandered and called names every time it didn't materialize. I think most of them know from SM and declining ratings that they're not well loved, and Dabb & Berens in particular have shown an insane amount of butthurt there wasn't enough buzz over their hoped cash cow Wayward to get it to air. By the time the final episodes were airing, Dabb and Co. had long since collected their last SPN paychecks and Dabb personally already had a new IP lined up to ruin. Why should they care if they left only flaming wreckage of a fandom in their wake as the hellers melted the fuck down all over everything yet again? I doubt they expected the fandom to still be wanking itself raw eight months later, but if they did this on purpose, I'd bet they wouldn't care or would find it funny. They won't be tied to it in perpetuity the way actors tend to be.

At some point, the hellers will largely move on though there may be a few lingering crazies for a very long time. Some fandoms don't die, but they all lose momentum over time, especially when a canon closes (which is why I rather hope all spin-off ideas remain in limbo indefinitely). There's only so many times they'll be able to convince themselves it's satisfying to RP fanfic on twitter or pay Misha hoping he'll talk about their ship when there are literally no more episodes in which someone can force Jensen to act out their fantasies. I can't say how soon it will be, but some have already wandered off. Over time more and more are going to either get bored, tire themselves out, realize what a laughingstock they are, or at least fixate on some other canon (Amara help those poor fandoms).

#destihellers #anti dabb #anti berens #askboxery #anonymous #spn ending #long post

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

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Fluff prompt #38? "Are you alright?" "I will be."

Well, this one certainly went in an unexpected direction! The quote winds up a bit altered, but I think it fits the spirit of the thing.

I’m working off this prompt list - send me an ask or @ me with your request!

The Bentley rolled to a stop in front of the bookshop just as the all-clear signaled the end of the night’s bombing. They hadn’t been in any danger during the drive; exhausted as he was, Crowley still had the strength to make sure of that. Probably.

Crowley only had to keep it together for another minute, maybe two. His feet ached from the burns, stinging like a sunburn as high as his knees, flaring every time he shifted his feet on the pedals. But he’d made it this far. He was fine, and he could continue to be fine until Aziraphale was in the shop.

He pressed his lips together, kept his hands on the wheel, and resisted the urge to fidget.

“Well,” Aziraphale said, still clutching his bag of books as if it was a life raft. “That was certainly a thrilling experience.” He frowned tartly at the dashboard, making his true feelings for the Bentley abundantly clear.

“Nh. Got you home, didn’t it?” Crowley glared out the window at the shop, shifting his feet between the pedals as inconspicuously as possible.

“Yes, and the fact that we’re still in one piece is clearly the most incredible miracle of the night.”

“You really haven’t changed, have you?”

“I should think not. I am an angel, and the nature of my being is incorruptible, eternal, and unaffected by the comings and goings of mortal beings—”

“Meaning you’re just as much a smug bastard as ever.”

Well. That hadn’t taken long to fall apart.

Really, the entire evening had been one disaster after another. His intelligence had revealed a team of Nazi spies was meeting with a contact at an old townhouse in Soho, so Crowley had settled in to wait it out. He had his fingers in everything these days, from British Counterintelligence to street gangs, and the opportunities for a bit of chaos during the Blitz were never ending.

Then he’d received word that the drop had been changed. And that the contact was a certain local and well-established bookseller. Meaning that the idiot being duped by the Nazis was his idiot. He’d barely been updated on the new location in time, and of course Aziraphale had picked a church, of all the places in the city, a church to meet his bloody spies, and Crowley had to charge in, no plan, no preparation, and now he hurt and Aziraphale seemed determined to make this as miserable as he possibly could, and really was it any surprise after the last time—

Crowley didn’t want to part angry, not again, but his feet hurt and he didn’t know how to stop himself.

In the silence, Aziraphale shifted in his seat, looking at the door but not opening it. “I…Crowley, I am…very glad…that you were there tonight.”

“Don’t thank me,” Crowley blurted, mostly out of habit. “Just. Be safe. Be smart.” One quick glance to the side, then glaring at the windscreen again. “And stay away from Nazis, it can’t be that hard.”

“No, I suppose it isn’t. I just thought…ah, well.” He opened the door, but didn’t try to leave.

“So,” Crowley started.

“So,” Aziraphale agreed.

Deep breath. “Guess I’ll see you next century—”

But at the same moment, from Aziraphale, “Do you want to come in?”

More than anything.

Aziraphale still didn’t face him, and his stiff shoulders gave no hint of his emotions, but Crowley wasn’t going to let this – whatever this was – pass him by.

“I mean…I could…I can…” His hand fumbled for the door latch, popping it open, almost leaping out onto the pavement before the invitation could be withdrawn. In his urgency, he entirely forgot about the pain in his feet.

Until he put his weight on them.

“AAAH!” With a strangled gasp, Crowley collapsed like felled tree.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale was beside him, impossibly quickly, hands fluttering over his face and chest. “Oh, my word. What – what happened? What’s wrong? Oh, Lord, is it—”

“Calm down, Angel.” His voice still sounded tight, but there wasn’t much Crowley could do about that. “Told you. Hallowed ground.” With some effort, he managed to sit up, one hand braced on the floor of the Bentley.

“I thought – you said – ‘being on the beach in bare feet’ – this isn’t—!”

“S’nothing.” Crowley eyed the distance to the driver’s seat. He could probably get himself in, but it wouldn’t be dignified. Well. Any and all dignity had long since gone out the window. “Just need to…”

He pulled his legs in and tried to stand – the pain hit him halfway up – and with another cry of “NrrrrrrAAAH!” he toppled over, slamming his head against the street.

“Oh, oh, Crowley!” His eyes blinked open, and behind the flashing supernovae that filled his vision loomed Aziraphale’s concerned face. “My dear fellow, are you alright?”

“Told you. S’nothing.” He’d need another minute or two before trying to sit up. “Be fine in the morning.”

“Yes, I’ll see to that.” Before Crowley could ask what that even meant, Aziraphale scooped him up, one arm under his knees, the other across his back, cradling him like a child.

“What? Angel – stop – you – Ngk!”

“Would you rather lay in the street all night?” He nudged the Bentley door shut with his foot. “Let’s get you inside.”

“But—”

“Hush.” He held Crowley a little closer, the demon’s head against his shoulder, and started walking. “Do hold on to my neck if you need balance, and try to relax.”

There was no chance of relaxing, not when his entire body was pressed into the warm curve of Aziraphale’s stomach, not when his vision was filled with that soft face, jaw hardened in determination. Especially not once he realized he could feel the angel’s heartbeat, steady and calm. His own was racing erratically, and every nerve in his body was raw, on edge.

As Aziraphale stepped past the Bentley into the street proper, Crowley’s heels taped lightly against his side, and sharp pain shot up to his knees. Crowley flinched, just slightly, but immediately Aziraphale stopped to shift his arms, making sure Crowley’s legs wouldn’t swing as much.

“Better?”

“Nh. Yuh.” Not knowing what else to do, Crowley slipped his arm across Aziraphale’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure it was any more comfortable, but he liked it.

Only when they reached the steps to the shop did Crowley realize something was missing. “Your books!”

“Still in that horrid vehicle.”

“But…” Aziraphale loved his books. Especially the prophecy books. He’d carried some of them around the world for the better part of a millennium. Crowley knew that, it was why he’d made sure to protect them from the bomb blast.

But, counter to all logic, Aziraphale just shook his head, as if they didn’t matter at all. “They’ll keep for an hour or two.” He nudged the door with his shoulder. “I have more important matters to attend to first.”

And he stepped across the threshold into the brightly lit shop.

It hadn’t changed. Eighty years since his last visit, and everything was still the same.

Oh, there were a few more tacky figurines and baroque sculptures scattered around; the books were piled even taller, suggesting Aziraphale had acquired far more than he’d sold in that time, and cloth bindings seemed to be giving way to leather again. The lights were electric now, but the gas fixtures clearly hadn’t been replaced, merely altered. The shelves, the columns, the furniture – everything was just as Crowley remembered.

He sat on the sofa now, feet soaking in a basin of hot water. Aziraphale knelt beside it, carefully applying angelic healing a little at a time. Crowley’s body couldn’t take much more holy energy without breaking.

His feet were much worse than he’d thought. Bright pink and deep red in patches, covered with angry swollen blisters that started between his toes and wrapped back around his ankles. When he’d rolled up his trouser legs, he’d found smaller burn patches all up his shins, as if the hallowed ground had somehow splashed him almost to his knees.

“Does this usually happen when a demon walks onto hallowed ground?” Aziraphale ran a dampened cloth across Crowley’s leg, gently wiping away a burn.

“Dunno, I’m the only one stupid enough to try it.”

“Crowley,” he murmured, somewhere between warning and exasperation.

“Sssss.” He slumped a little further on the sofa, wiggling his aching toes. “I’ve seen a few demons get close to holy ground or objects. Burns and blisters, yeah, that’s normal. But I’ve never seen it this bad.” Aziraphale’s fingers ran down his ankle, setting off more sparks of pain. “Mmmmph. Should heal though. Almost everything heals eventually.”

Demonic self-healing took time, of course, and hurt all the while.

“They’re coming along,” Aziraphale commented, gently lifting Crowley’s left foot out of the water. His hand on the back of the ankle was as gentle as possible, but still made Crowley squirm.

“Nnnnnnnrk. Why did you have to meet them in a bloody church?”

“I…” Aziraphale carefully brushed the cloth across Crowley’s foot. It tingled – not entirely pleasantly – but the skin left behind was less burned, and the blisters a little smaller. “I’m not really sure.”

“C’mon, Angel.” Crowley shifted again, fingers curling into the sofa cushion. “I know you changed the spot at the last minute. And don’t tell me that was their idea.”

“No…” For a long moment, Aziraphale didn’t say anything further, just continued to wash Crowley’s foot with slow, gentle motions. When he’d cleared the left foot as much as he could, he lowered it back into the water and started on the right. “I just…I was so flattered. To be asked to help. To trap spies and book thieves! To…be part of a team.” The cloth slowed to a stop. “I just…I suppose some part of me hoped that Heaven would look down and, and see…”

You wanted them to be proud of you. Not that he could say it. Aziraphale’s feelings towards his superiors were as complicated as ever.

“Well.” Aziraphale started into his task again, perhaps a bit too briskly. “Good thing no one did look, considering how it all turned out.”

“Angel…” Crowley pushed himself up a little, to better watch the white curly head bent over his feet. “Are you alright?”

“What? Don’t – that’s absurd – you’re the one who’s – why wouldn’t I be—?”

“You trusted her. That woman. And she pointed a gun to your head.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale quickly lowered Crowley’s foot into the water, but not fast enough for him to miss how the angel’s fingers trembled. He gripped the sides of the basin. “Do you…do you think me very foolish? To fall for…such an obvious trick?”

“Not at all.” But Aziraphale didn’t look up, didn’t move from his spot. “This…isn’t the first time it’s happened, is it?”

He shook his head. “Never this bad, but…I always throw my lot in with the worst sort of people, don’t I? Or if I do find decent types, I just – just drive them away. I never learn my lesson. Good lord, there must be something wrong with me.”

“Of course there isn’t.” Crowley wished Aziraphale would meet his eyes.

“And it was so obvious! If I’d just stopped to think for five minutes…”

“You can’t blame yourself for humans being—”

“Why? Am I so desperate for approval, I just – just throw my lot in with whoever comes by? Why do I keep—”

“Because you’re lonely!”

Crowley hadn’t meant to say it, never mind with such feeling. He wanted to take it back, but Aziraphale’s head jerked up, finally met his eyes – oh, yes. He could see how right he was.

Eighty years, with no one but humans for company. Crowley could remember how awful that was. How much worse, when you knew there was another way? When you understood what you were missing?

“Angel…I’m…” The word stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry. I should have come back sooner, instead of just…just sleeping it off.”

“And I could have gone to you,” Aziraphale said softly. “I wanted to, you know. So many times, I just…”

Crouched beside the basin, Aziraphale slid his arm around Crowley’s legs, leaned forward to rest his head against the demon’s knees. Crowley laid his hand on the angel’s head, fingers burrowing into soft, feathery curls.

They didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say, not with words at least.

After a time, Aziraphale whispered, “Do you think – is it – are we…alright?”

Crowley stroked his hair one more time. “We will be.”

#good omens prime #good omens fanfic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #hurt comfort #hurt crowley #sad aziraphale #love #foot washing #hey finally got a foot washing fic written go me #my writing #prompt fic #tumblr fic

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rubythecrimsonwriter · 2 years

Text

I’m in the middle of moving rn so I don’t have access to my books BUT

I would like to ask: what would have happened to Camp Half-Blood if Thalia hadn’t died on Half-Blood Hill?

Like. To hear the older campers tell about it, they were on the verge of being overrun. The best deterrent they’d had prior was Festus, except Festus went haywire and they didn’t have him anymore, so they just had. Demigod patrols? I guess?

Coupled with more and more satyrs going on the quests for Pan and getting eaten by Polyphemus?

So you wind up having less satyrs to bring in demigods to a place that’s not particularly safe, because, you know, high concentration of demigods = high concentration of monsters, and then you’ll have a higher mortality rate for young demigods because there aren’t enough satyrs to go out and fetch the demigods, and then you’ll have less and less demigods in Camp Half-Blood.

Maybe you just wind up with a bunch of Greek demigods wandering around North America in trios. Maybe three isn’t just a number that the gods kind of randomly decided was important, but it was the sweet spot between not enough demigods being overwhelmed by monsters and too many demigods being overwhelmed by far too many monsters.

Like Luke, Annabeth, and Thalia. Probably would have worked if Annabeth wasn’t seven (girl was great with that hammer but seven year olds and coordination don’t go together) and Thalia wasn’t a Big Three kid. It probably would have been one of the rare times where they probably could have gotten a fourth person and been okay, because Thalia alone is a big monster attractor, heaven knows that one more person isn’t going to draw more monsters.

(If I was in Thalia’s shoes, and I’d suddenly realized that this supposed safe haven wasn’t safe or even a haven and was just a haphazard collection of monster attractors? I would have grabbed my kid and my partner and gone. I got enough issues without hanging out with a bunch more people with the same issues and not a one of us can effectively problem solve all together, because now we’re just a lodestone of issues.)

Fast forward five years after Thalia didn’t die on Half-Blood Hill, didn’t have Zeus turn her into a pine tree (why a pine tree, Zeus? I’ve always wondered why a pine tree), didn’t have Thalia’s soul powering the magic border of Camp Half-Blood? You have Percy turning twelve.

Where in Hades is Percy supposed to go? If he goes to Camp, he’ll bring a horde of monsters on the place, which is very much not prepared for that at all. If he doesn’t go to Camp, he’ll die under a horde of monsters, because hello? Percy doesn’t even know he can breathe underwater, much less do anything else. Ignorance was his only hope, really, but between Kronos’s machinations and really just him getting older, eventually even the densest person would realize something was up.

(Hang on, I just realized something so I’m going back to an earlier bit--maybe why Annabeth, Percy, and Grover worked so well as a trio is because you just had Annabeth and Percy as the monster attractors? The combo of Annabeth and Percy is probably enough to register as three demigods, since they’re both strong demigods, and Percy is a Big Three kid. And then Grover acted as the third, but he didn’t have a monster attractor, thus balancing it.)

So maybe you have Percy and Grover together, great! You’ve got a confused, nervous wreck that’s been being gaslit by everyone around him, and then you’ve got a nervous wreck with more self esteem issues than i can shake a stick at. Who’s the semi-competent third that is the normal holder of the braincell? It can’t be Luke or Annabeth, they’re with Thalia. It can’t be another satyr because they all think that Grover’s a failure bc three powerful demigods immediately decided that back out in the wild was more likely to keep them alive than in Camp.

I need to ponder this and figure out which fucking box I put my books in now.

#percy jackson #i need to come back to this #this is almost a prompt but not quite #someone please discuss this with me because my brain is just zipping around like a dizzy fly over this #sometimes you ponder something from PJO and realize what a wordsmith Rick Riordan really truly is #pjo

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45percenterthen · 3 years

Text

merry christmas @rambleoncas from ur spn fam secret santa !! sending all the love to u, ely 🥰🎄 i’m SO sorry this is late, pls absolutely yell at me i’m the worst 🙃 had such a fun time writing this tho, hope u love it ! <33

In which Sam and Eileen are not the comedy duo they think they are, a new board game is invented, and Dean and Cas learn a valuable lesson about the perils of ice skating. (2.7k, minor angst followed by ridiculous festive fluff, read here on ao3)

As a child, Dean picked his scabs. Forever scratching at his knuckles, knees, the scarred backs of his elbows. The rhythmic scrape and peel of it. Absentminded in the backseat of the car, or sitting next to Sammy in whatever run-down motel of the week, one eye trained on the door. A life built on rituals and routine; Dean was bound to form some of his own.

There’d been this one vamp in Des Moines, back in ’93. Towering beast of a guy. Dean was pinned up against cold brick in a dimly-lit alley, something sharp digging into the back of his knees and something sharper rising in the back of his throat. Better Dean be bait, of course, than some random civilian. But Dad wasn’t there yet. The guy was at full-fang, teeth inching towards his neck, and Dean was casting silent prayers skyward that Dad had killed the rest of the nest by now, that he was on his way, that this was all still part of the plan.

The vamp had roughed him up a bit, but Dean had given as good as he got, punching and kicking and spitting and punching, smart mouth working overtime to distract from the trembling of his hands. And then, finally, seconds from the precipice: Dad was there. His blade sung as it sliced through the thing’s neck, spraying blood and bone and gristle. And Dean was saved. Dad had grinned, clapped a hand on his shoulder. You did well, son. And Dean had looked up at him from where he’d crumpled to the ground, as if he could float up from the gutter on just those words alone. Let his head tip back to hit brick, lip split, face cracked with blood and pride. In the car back to the motel he was glowing, the compliment sinking into split, aching flesh like a balm. His hands were still shaking, though. Dean had tucked them under his thighs so Dad wouldn’t notice.

He wore his scabbed knuckles like a badge of honour, scratching at the welts in neon-lit diners, reaching out occasionally for faux-attacks on Sam’s fries. He’d wanted it to scar. Wanted to peel away at ruined skin until his knuckles were pink-raw and silvery. A souvenir of a hunt well done, of Dad smiling at him like he’d done something right. Of the four people they’d saved from the nest. Dad’s words rattled around his hollow insides like he could live off them the next few weeks. Scrape. Peel.

Twenty-something years later and Dean hasn’t managed to shake the habit. But as he walks into the bunker’s library, surveys the scene like an audience member of his own life, Dean thinks he’s managed to break a lot – a lot – of others.

“Check it out, Sammy!” He shoves bloodied knuckles in Sam’s face, smiles at him through a mouthful of gingerbread. “Think it’ll scar?”

Sam’s next to Eileen at one of the tables, two slices of cake in front of them, the sound of It’s A Wonderful Life echoing from tinny laptop speakers. It’s balanced precariously on some dusty spell-books, just as a bowl of popcorn is suspended between the armrests of Sam and Eileen’s chairs. Dean’s been watching the politics of the bowl’s positioning with great amusement; Sam’s previous attempts to tilt it to his own side have resulted in glares of ranging affection (and one shoulder-punch) from Eileen. The bowl was swiftly returned to original formation.

At the sight of Dean’s hand, Sam’s face instantly wilts, recoiling like Dean’s smacked him with it. Eileen winces slightly, signs ‘you're such an idiot’, smiling around a mouthful of cake.

“God, Dean, we’re eating–”, Dean smirks harder, crumbs threatening to overspill. “–you’re so gross.” Sam cranes his neck to make eye contact with Cas across the room, shoots him a grin. “Besides – that’s what you get for taking Bambi out on the ice.”

Cas leans back in his chair, head tilted, eyes narrowed suspiciously. One of Dean’s old flannels rolled up to his elbows. He regards Sam like he’s practicing spontaneous human combustion via telepathy.

“I have very little in common with an animated deer, Sam.”

“Only the coordination issues,” Claire chips in from opposite Cas.

“Whose side are you on?” She smiles sweetly at him.

Dean steals a piece of Sam’s popcorn (“other hand, dude!”) just to throw it at him. Waits till the Sasquatch’s eyes are fixed back on the movie, then signs ‘dork’ at Eileen, gesturing to Sam with comically-wide eyes.

She laughs. “Absolutely.”

Engrossed in the film, Sam loops an arm around the back of her chair, oblivious, and Dean walks back across the room, gingerbread in hand. Cas is sitting at the next table along from Sam-and-Eileen, settling back into observing – what appears to be – an incredibly heated game of UNO. Dean’s not sure it is UNO, actually, he’s certain he saw some playing cards caught in the fray. Monopoly cards too? Dean makes a mental note to start paying more attention to the quality of his thrift-store-finds. Regardless, Claire seems to have manoeuvred the situation to her advantage, no doubt convincing Jack and Cas that yes, actually, this is exactly how you play it. She’s chewing on her lip slightly, in way that could pass for concentration. More likely though, Dean thinks, it’s to hide a smile that says: this is like taking candy from a baby-God. The baby-God in question is sitting across the table, next to Cas, eyes wide and earnest, contemplating his nonsensical hand of cards with the focus of a laser-pointer. Dean hopes they’re not playing for money. Claire would clean up.

Dean smiles at Cas, hands him the plate of gingerbread. Reaches out with his uninjured hand to sweep a thumb over his cheekbone. He leans down to press an unselfconscious kiss to the centre of his forehead, and isn’t that a testament to how far he’s come. (From the corner of his eye, Sam watches the exchange. Sees Dean’s wedding band glint in the lamp light as he touches a palm to Cas’ cheek. Smiles to himself.)

Cas accepts the gingerbread, pats the chair next to him. “Sorry I skated over your hand, Dean,” he says woefully.

Dean, always Dean. Never babe, or honey, or something equally as cloying that’d have Sam choking on his granola. Just, Dean. He’s never heard his name spoken with such weight before. It’s like a code between them, like only Dean can hear that secret reverence, the adoration that Cas pours into the single word. A benediction, confession. A promise. At the risk of sounding self-important; Dean’s never loved the sound of his own name more.

“S’alright. Better story than all my other scars.” He points at his right shoulder through his Henley, knowing Cas has memorised all the skin underneath. “Vamp.” Left knee: “Shifter.” Left hand: “Crazed husband on ice skates.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I did tell you not to lie down.”

Dean looks at him, scandalised. “It’s a well-known fact that star-gazing is, like. The peak of romance–”

“But I was still–“

“–but stargazing and ice-skating? You should probably, like, marry me, dude. Get me locked down quick, and all that.”

He drags the chair a bit closer to the table and sits down. Cas beams at him, eyes shining over these cute little round reading glasses they’d bought for him last week. “I believe I already have that covered.”

This time it’s Claire that rolls her eyes. “God, you two are ridiculous. Can’t you see we’re locked in tense gameplay here?”

Jack nods, palpably sincere, eyes still rooted to his cards.

“Sorry, sorry.” Dean pushes the gingerbread plate in Claire’s general direction in apology. Claps a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Who’s winning, then? Also, uh… what are the rules, exactly?”

He rests a hand on Cas’ knee, draws patterns on the denim. Listens as Jack gives a roundabout explanation of Frankenstein-UNO, how Claire is inexplicably winning every round. It’s weird to think of Jack as actual God now, not when he’s sitting here like this, turning over a Virginia Avenue monopoly card and expression immediately souring. It’s like he has this internal switch, able to toggle between normal-Jack and God-Jack when needed. In moments like these, it almost feels like nothing’s changed. But then he’ll get that glint in his eye, stand up a little straighter, like divine duty’s been injected directly into his veins. Teleport off, continue working on that ground-breaking heaven restructure he’s been talking about. Dean always says that he hopes they’re living it up, Bobby and Ellen and Jo – and all of the rest of them – in heaven-mark-three. That he can’t wait to see the changes. Then Cas’ll chime in, like clockwork. Not for another forty years, I hope. Dean wonders if they’ll get, like, coupons for the heavenly frozen yogurt places, or something. Being one of the unofficial fathers of God has to hold some clout up there, right?

In truth, Dean has some more questions about heaven, heavier ones that weigh on his chest. Lead on his tongue, back-of-his-mind whispers that louden at night. Ones he hasn’t quite found the words to articulate aloud yet. Who, exactly, will be there waiting for him, when he gets there?

Absentmindedly, Dean’s right hand moves to scratch at his left. It’s not at all scabbed yet, but the pain doesn’t really register. He’s just going through the motions. Scrape. Is it wrong, to not want him to be there? Peel. There is a monster at the end of this book. Scrape–

Cas catches his hand and Dean’s thoughts are halted in their tracks. He takes a breath. Cas’s palm sweeps over his knuckles, pulls at his wrist. Loops Dean’s arm around his own shoulders. The careful intensity of his gaze feels achingly familiar. Dean’s hand rests on Cas’ shoulder, now. Cas keeps holding it. Hand and gaze alike.

It’s like he has a permanent window into his thoughts. Dean wonders if it’s some celestial muscle memory, considering all that practice he’d had as an angel. So used to looking beyond Dean’s face, underneath the bone and flesh of it; seeing his soul itself shifting under his skin. Or maybe this is just Cas. Freakishly attuned to him in a way that transcends angelic powers and logic. Maybe this is just Cas-and-Dean.

He’s vaguely aware that Claire and Jack are still talking, arguing the merits and impact of a rogue nine of diamonds, when Sam announces a text from Jody. Apparently, the snowstorm’s eased a bit, and they’re good to hit the road again tomorrow. They’ll probably be at the bunker within a day or two.

Claire’s looking up from her cards now, the thrill of young love apparently overpowering the need to thrash your brother-God at Monopoly-UNO.

Sam aims a piece of popcorn at her. “She also said that Kaia’s really looking forward to it.” He launches it at her and she catches it, effortlessly. The slight flush though, high on her cheekbones, betrays her.

“Did you end up getting through to her earlier?” Cas asks.

“No – just dial tone. Must’ve been because of the storm.” She pauses. “Actually. If the snow’s died down a bit…” she glances at Jack, scoops her cards up into a neat little pile. “Fifteen minutes,” she says to him, grabbing her phone of the table. “I’ll be right back! Don’t look at my cards!”

Jack nods amiably, smiling at her like she’s just put an idea in his head.

Claire reaches the doorway just as Charlie walks in, towel on her head and hot chocolate balanced on her laptop.

“Lesbian relay race,” she says, deadpan, as Claire greets her. Claire snorts, manages to high-five her without looking up from her phone.

Charlie sets her mug down on the table, stealing a bit of gingerbread from Dean’s plate in one swift movement, grinning at him. No doubt she’s ventured out of her room in the hopes of being fed. She’s always first up on weekend mornings, seemingly able to hear the sound of Dean plating up pancakes from seven rooms over. Dean loves having Charlie visit.

“Two very important questions, folks. One: shall we all watch Die Hard tonight?” There’s a chorus of yeses, punctuated by Cas shaking his head at Jack. “Two: what is this monstrosity of a game and how do I play it?”

“Sit here,” Dean says, making a move before the ‘Is Die Hard a Christmas movie?’ debate can start up again (for the record, it absolutely is). “Jack’ll explain. Me and Cas need an eggnog top-up.” He taps Cas on the shoulder, nods in the general direction of the kitchen.

“Two-man job, is it?” Sam smirks at Dean as they pass by. He’s facing Eileen as he says it, so she too, can appreciate his unending wit. She giggles at Sam, raises an eyebrow at Dean and Cas. They’re an absolute double-act tonight, Dean thinks. This is probably the least attention they’ve paid to a movie since he finally sat them all down to watch Star Trek IV. Ingrates. He’s once again delighted that Charlie’s here.

Dean opens his mouth, ‘the best ones always are, Sammy!’ already forming on his tongue. Low-hanging fruit? Probably. Hilarious? Definitely. Cas glares at him though, and he glances at Jack. Somehow still the picture of innocence, even as he rummages through a hand of cards that he’s failing to pass off as his own. Dean closes his mouth. Sticks to a gesture of universal understanding that he can shoot at Sam, when Jack’s not looking.

When they finally reach the kitchen, Cas stops him in the doorway. He gently takes his injured hand and brings it up to his lips, kisses the palm.

“I hate hurting you,” he says quietly. He leaves the rest of the sentence stuck at the back of his throat; I can’t even heal you anymore. Dean hears it anyway. Crowds him into a hug.

“Honestly, dude, it’s fine.” He presses a kiss to his hairline. “Accidents happen. And it’s kinda hilarious.”

“Hmm.”

“It is. Next time we go, remind me to take you to an actual rink. That way you can hold on to the side with the other twelve-year-olds.”

Cas narrows his eyes, twisting in a half-hearted attempt to disentangle himself from Dean’s arms. Dean doesn’t let him. Lightly runs his fingernails over Cas’ forearms until he shivers.

“We can make it a Christmas tradition.” Dean looks upwards. Shifts them a half-step left. “And speaking of traditions…”

Cas follows his line of sight, eyes coming to rest on a tiny sprig of mistletoe taped neatly to the lip of the doorframe. He grins.

“Why do you think–,” he leans in, an inch from brushing Dean’s smiling lips with his own, “–I stopped us in the doorway?”

“Great minds, dude,” Dean whispers.

His heart soars ridiculously in his chest, like this isn’t something they’ve done a hundred, a thousand times before. He closes his eyes against the sudden rise of emotion and then they’re kissing, Cas smiling into it. Dean’s good hand moves up to Cas’ hair, curves round to stroke at the nape of his neck. Cas’ lips are soft, achingly gentle, parting easily for him. He’s got both hands cradling Dean’s face, like he’s holding him in place, trying to explain something to Dean without words. Using just the connection of their lips. They break apart after a while, breathless, and Dean presses a handful more chaste kisses to Cas’ cheek until he’s laughing, walking backwards until Dean has him pinned up against the doorframe.

Dean looks around furtively, then unbuttons the top of Cas’ stolen flannel, presses an open-mouthed kiss to the thin scar he finds at his Adam’s apple. This is a tradition too, now. Cas sighs, murmurs three words into his hair, and Dean answers with four more kisses down the hollow of his throat, one for each word of his reply. The eggnog sits, untouched, on the countertop and, honestly, this is turning into an accident just waiting to scar a family member. At the moment, though, Dean can’t really bring himself to care. He trails his mouth upwards to capture Cas’ lips, again, again, again, and the sound of easy laughter from the library sits light and buoyant in the air. Back in their room, a little vial of orphaned grace sits, forgotten and dusty, on the uppermost shelf of their closet.

tag list:

@drriffly @cas-s-sinoatrial-node @seraphlm @itsinjustbeing @cursed-or-not@casandeans @dreamnovak @heller-jensen @joharvele @chaoticdean @dickspeightjrs @contemplativepancakes @oflosechesters @acabdean@aelysianmuse @yearningcas @murphycooper @casbelieves @tearsofgrace @footstepsontherun @adsdragonlover @half-dead-hunter @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul

#spnfamsecretsanta #merry chrimble ely !! love u xx #deancas #destiel #deancas fic #destiel fic #my writing

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naruhinamain · 3 years

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Day 6: Pregnancy/It wasn't like this before

Submitted by HappyOcelot

A/N: Chapter 6 of “When I Look At You”

It wasn’t like this before. It really wasn’t like this before.

A sudden and bizarre change had overtaken Naruto, something that would take nine months to fix.

Hinata’s first pregnancy had transformed Naruto into a lunatic.

From the way he was acting, you’d think he was the one going to give birth.

Of course, his first reaction was to pass out and then cry bucketloads of tears in joy. Then he’d wrapped up Hinata in a hug, only to let go immediately, because he was afraid of “crushing the baby.”

Actually, that part was really sweet. He was the kind of loving father that Hinata always knew he’d be.

It was what happened in the following weeks that was odd.

Naruto frowned, taking in the sweat beaded on her forehead in concern. “Hinata, are you sure you’re okay?”

It was the fifth time he’d asked her that in the past five minutes. Something was winding him up.

She sighed. "Yes, Naruto-kun, I’m fine, it’s just the heat.“

He placed the back of his hand on her forehead, eyes filled with nervousness and a little bit of fear. "Do you have a fever? I mean, you’ve never sweated like this before – ”

“Yes, I have.” She leaned back on the couch, propping up her legs in a resting position. “It’s summer, Naruto-kun. People do sweat during the summer.”

“Oh…oh, right.” Naruto laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. “Then…then I’ll get you some water! It’s important to keep yourself and the baby hydrated, ya know!”

She simply smiled at him. He really was the kind of loving father that Hinata always knew he’d be.

He’d hurried into the kitchen, returning with the promised water.

Except that it wasn’t simply a small glass of water. He’d gotten an entire five jugs, balanced precariously in his arms.

And he made her drink all of it. Because it was “important to keep yourself and the baby hydrated.”

He was pretty nervous and high-strung these days, far more so than her. It was kind of funny, actually, although incidents like these were slightly annoying.

Yes, he was definitely very nervous and high-strung these days. That was why he was walking around the house all the time with some book that he’d borrowed from Sai, something about pregnancy or parenting or whatever.

Hinata, once again, thought it was sweet. All day long, he’d be absorbed in that book, muttering about vitamin supplements and healthy eating.

He was taking her health quite seriously. Hinata felt moved when he got her some iron tablets from Sakura because he’d read in the book that it was important to get enough minerals for the duration of the pregnancy. It was truly something to behold, coming from a guy who thought that ramen was the most nutritious food on the planet. He still thought that, but a few words from Sakura about “high sodium levels” was enough to prevent him from feeding her tons of it during her pregnancy, something which she was grateful for from the bottom of her heart. She loved ramen too, but Sakura was right. The high sodium levels would not be good for her or the baby.

Naruto’s motto during her pregnancy seemed to be, “If it’s healthy, make sure Hinata eats tons of it.” And that was where the problems started.

It was sweet that he was getting her all those vitamins and minerals, concerned at the prospect of her getting anemia or becoming malnourished.

It was funny, although slightly annoying, when he made her drink five jugs of water because he was concerned at the prospect of her becoming dehydrated.

But it crossed the line from sweet, funny, and slightly annoying to absolute madness when he roped Guy-sensei into his nutritional health plan.

“HINATA!” Guy-sensei yelled far too loudly, making her grimace (pregnancy was making her a tad more sensitive than usual). “YOU CAN’T GIVE UP. IT’S UNYOUTHFUL TO GIVE UP. NOW, ON THE COUNT OF THREE.”

Hinata shot a glare at Naruto, standing off in the corner and grinning at her like he had no idea what was wrong.

…He probably didn’t, Hinata conceded grudgingly. Still, why did he think it was okay to torture her like this in the name of proper nutrition?

“ONE. TWO. THREE.”

Guy-sensei fixed her with one of those disturbing grins that Neji nii-san used to complain about. She sighed and began slowly munching on the twentieth carrot for that day.

There were twenty more remaining in the basket that Guy-sensei had carried along with him. Naruto gave her a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile. She sighed again.

It was going to be a long, long day.

“Naruto-kun,” Hinata said when Guy-sensei finally left, which took a long time, and only after feeding her ten apples, five lemons, and an entire jug of water. Hinata thanked the heavens that at least the fruits were extra-small. “I understand that you’re concerned about me and all, but really, you’re going overboard here.”

He stared at her cluelessly. “Why do you think that? I’m just worried about yours and Boruto’s health, ya know?”

“But I don’t need to eat fifty-five fruits and vegetables every single day. I don’t understand why you thought Guy-sensei was the best person to ask for help.”

She patted her belly, which was only partially swollen because of the baby and mostly swollen because of Guy-sensei’s diet torture, and calmly met his gaze, wordlessly asking for an explanation.

Naruto’s eye switched a little.

Ah. So he did understand.

She smiled at him, despite her her earlier annoyance. Only a few months into their relationship, and she had found that this was the best way to get Naruto to open up. He was nervous and high-strung lately, and she knew that something was…bothering him. Otherwise he wouldn’t have roped in Guy-sensei for his nutritional meal plan.

It worked.

His lip wobbled and his eyes kept twitching.

“You’ve been acting strange lately,” she prodded. “Could you tell me what’s wrong?”

And then he word-puked.

Hinata knew that Naruto bore a great resemblance to his mother, Kushina, both in looks and personality. Kakashi-sensei had shared a funny anecdote with her the other day, about something his sensei, the Yondaime, had told him a long time ago, about how Naruto’s mother had reacted when she found out that she was pregnant.

She should have suspected that Naruto would act the same way.

“I’m just so worried, ya know?” Naruto yelled, throwing his hands up into the air. “This is the first time we’re going to be parents! I just want to get everything right, ya know! I know that you’re supposed to feed kids a lot when they’re hungry and I always think that Boruto might be hungry right now, and that means we have to feed him something healthy before he gets addicted to something like hamburgers!”

Hinata blinked, but Naruto was on a roll.

“Plus I just get the feeling that Boruto is going to be a really naughty kid, and he’ll say that he hates the Hokage, and that he’ll pull all sorts of pranks to get attention, and…and…”

…It was official.

Hinata’s pregnancy had made Naruto lose his mind.

“Naruto-kun! Just calm down. How could you possibly know all of these things about the baby before he’s even born?”

He finally stopped and took a deep breath.

“Because I’m his dad,” he said, as though this was obvious.

Ah.

Naruto really was the kind of loving father Hinata knew he’d be.

“Well, don’t worry, Naruto-kun. Boruto will be fine,” Hinata replied.

“You sure?”

Sky blue eyes peered up at her nervously.

“Yes, because…I’m his mother.”

#nhweek #nhweek2021 #naruhina #happy ocelot #fanfic #nhweek2021 day6 #submission

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occult-castiel · 4 years

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Leave a message (after the beep!)

Suptober. Day 13: Rewind Dean has a few things to say to Cas. Word count: 2542 [Read on Ao3]

3 Weeks.

Dean's been stealing glances at his phone for over an hour. The dim light of the hall that creeps from under his door is the only reason he can see the thing, blurred out to a barely-there grey hunk of plastic.

The idea is fucking stupid. He doesn't care what Sam thinks. Sam wasn't even supposed to know. Let alone have fucking opinions.

But Dean slipped.

And it took more effort than he will ever admit to walk out of the kitchen without clocking his brother in the goddamn jaw.

Fuck Sam and fuck the phone.

He turns around, away from the stupidest temptation of his life, and demands sleep come.

It's only mildly successful.

2 Month, 1 Week.

Nothing bad can happen from a phone call. Doing it once can’t hurt you any more than you are now

Sam's a well-meaning kid. He really is. But sometimes he just needs to can it.

'Cause he had to go and say some shit like that, completely unprompted — they were talking about potential witch activity in Utah, not Dean's feelings, for Christ's sake — and now it's all Dean can think about now that the distractions of the day have bled into a dark room and cold bed.

And that gray hunk of plastic on his desk is laughing at him. He could reach it if he sat up. Stretched a bit.

But the idea is dumb. And Sam doesn't get it. He really fucking doesn’t.

Except Dean knows he's kind of full of crap.

He grits his teeth, shoves the covers to the side, and grabs his phone.

With each passing buzz, his heart stutters, breath cut into shorter and shorter spurts.

Stupidstupidstupid.

It- it isn't like he's gunna answer. Dean knows he not, but it just rings and rings and —

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail."

And it hurts.

He calls again every night for the next week. Of course, he never picks up. Sam doesn't ask.

4 Months.

Dean kicks the door after it slams shut. Throws his gun at his headboard, if it goes off and shoots him, oh fucking well. It's great. Just fantastic.

He pulls his phone out without thinking. Clicks Cas.

It rings, and for a moment his shoulders relax as the familiar greeting plays. Cause its Cas' voice. And fuck. Just… fuck.

Then it beeps, and he actually does the one thing he's wanted for months.

"None of your douchebag family will answer me. And I've tried friggin' everything, I swear to Christ."

He runs his hand over his face, glances up at the sour-yellow ceiling.

"How you ever stood them is beyond me dude."

And then, like a rational human being. He hangs up and pretends that whatever that was didn't happen.

Once the bitter taste of angels that don’t pick the fucking phone up from earlier that day fades, Dean stares at the darkened ceiling.

He left a voicemail. A fucking voicemail.

Pathetic.

4 Months, 3 Weeks.

So he hasn't called again since his, uh, slip up. And Sam keeps giving him these little looks. And he knows that Sam knows, and knows he isn't calling because he's a changed man or whatever.

Maybe Sam would drop it, whatever the hell he thinks Dean's mess is, if he could manage to eat.

Jody, Claire, Kaia, and Alex are all around the table with them. Jody's the charmer she always is, talking about how she's grateful for the help and oh, of course you guys are gunna stay for dinner! Ah-ah! No buts.

There was a hunt in town she tracked down with Claire, a huge vamps nest — we're talking dozens — and called them over for help. And is now feeding them. Because she's a saint and never deserved to be in the know in the first place.

Dean looks at the food. Pork lathered in dark brown graveyard with a mountain of buttery mashed potatoes. There's a pile of carrots on Sam's plate. Dean opted out.

Not that he's eating now. No, mostly just pushing it all around. He does eat in general.

But Claire isn't looking at him. Hasn't. She barely managed a glance up when he saved her — just a small nod and weary glance.

Sam, on the other hand, may as well be ogling.

Dean wishes he could read Sam's mind, find out where he's keeping it so Dean can wallow in misery without his brother being keen on some of the finer details, thank you very much.

He manages a few bites. Its excellent, mouth-watering, home-cooked goodness he's missed fiercely since he got a taste for it the few days Mrs. Butters was around.

But right now? Turns his stomach.

On the way back home, Sam clears his throat. Dean grips the wheel a little tighter.

"So —"

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Samantha."

In the corner of his eye, Sam's shoulder slump. His brother looks down and sighs out a sad little noise.

But the rest of the drive is quiet. And that's a win in Dean's book.

It's roughly midnight, and books are scattered across the library table. They're all open to different pages, but none of it matters. Not really.

Dean's combing through it all anyway. Has been since Heavens decided they have a no-call policy with anyone named Winchester.

The piles he has laid around him have grown increasingly larger as the weeks have drug on. Spiked exponentially when he decided not to call anymore.

"Hey Dean."

Dean snaps his head up mid-sentence. Sam stands in the threshold, holding a plate. In pajamas.

Dean just looks at him. "What?"

"Made you food." He lifts the plate up a fraction

"That looks like a cold cut, so made is a generous word."

Sam has the audacity to slump into himself, full-on wounded-puppy mode. So Dean rolls his eyes and waves him over.

The plate gets sat down with a distinct clank, and Sam pats his shoulder.

"You know I just… want what's best for you."

Dean tenses his shoulders, closes the book in front of him. He speaks through his teeth.

"Yeah, well I never had it in the first place. And now it is gone, and there's nothing I can do."

"You don't know that Dean."

He glues his eyes to the back of the book. Balls his fists.

"Don't I? That — That fucking thing just —"

"I know. But it's also gone. We don't know what happened."

Dean chooses then to look over, fix his brother with a proper glare so he'll go the hell away — but sees it.

Sitting innocuously on the plate, like it isn't an affront to everything Dean would rather not, is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Sam's talking but he can't hear it. His brains turned to mush, a radio-static circus of nothing.

The bottom of his chair screeches as it drags against the floor.

And Dean can’t see.

Sam grabs his arm, he shakes it off. He moves decisively, tries too, but his eyes prickle and he can’t see shit, and he isn’t about to cry right there in front of his brother, validate every stupid thought the guy has that’s probably one-hundred percent right.

His door clicks shut, and he pressed himself against it. Slides down until he hits the icy floor.

Dean's throat is a constricted cage, each breath in has to be muscled in, down, out. Each wobble as much as the last.

Sam doesn't know shit. He doesn’t know what he's talking about. He really doesn't.

Calling someone who can’t answer, won’t ever answer, is fucking stupid. It's not therapeutic.

When he rubs a hand over his face. It comes back wet, and his eyes sting.

"Fuck."

He fishes for his phone. Going to Cas' number is muscle memory at this point.

It rings. Cause Sam can't help but keep the thing charged.

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail."

The ball in his chest is impossibly tight. Why hasn't he called? Just to hear him again, the gruff tenor that's like gravel and silk and the only thing he ever wants to hear, ever. And now he only has nine words he'll ever hear him say again.

That's it. Two sentences.

You saved the whole world. He didn’t save shit.

And what the fuck is he supposed to do now? How is he supposed to do anything? He’s never been any good, not as good as he needs to be. Maybe if he would’ve been — or did somethin’ different, anything different —

Dean threads his fingers in his hair and balls his fist. Squeezes his eyes shut against the pool of tears that just leak out, and curls in on himself. His guts are twisted and tight, just like the rest of him. Every part of him shakes, the hand vice-gripping his hair should hurt, should be enough to pull him back to sanity, but the tears don’t stop.

And really what does it matter if he cries. Chucks gone, and The Empty, that — that thing got what was coming to it.

But Cas didn't come back.

He lulls his head against the door, untangles the hand from his hair like his fingers piston operated they ache so bad

God, Cas should’ve just left him in Hell.

Maybe he's Heaven, Billy had said with a shrug. Casual. Like she didn't understand. And Dean knows she does. She gets it more than any of them, saw just what this shit did the last time. Saw exactly how much he didn't want to be around.

Jack had to fuck off to put the universe in balance, so he’s MIA and no help. And Heaven doesn't seem to give a shit.

There must've been a beep somewhere, so Dean just goes with it. Presses the phone to his ear again and works his jaw open until it’s loose enough to allow something resembling words can happen.

"It's — it's bullshit." God Dean can't recognize his own voice, pulled thin and hoarse. "You — you know that right? Bullshit." He shakes his head. Tries to take a deep breath that comes out only slightly less ragged. "You always left. And I — I get that you had to sometimes. But no one wanted you here more than me."

He wipes his face off with the collar of his shirt. His skull screams in sharp pain, and his temples thud. And normally this would be too long of a pause, but normally you don't start a voicemail off trying not to sob, and normally they're made for people who can actually listen to them. So whatever.

"This is stupid. It's not — voicemails ain't your style." His breath leaves, and exhaustion sets deep into his bones. "You always just called back for the explanation. You'd leave 'em, though."

At least Dean assumes. Every call back he'd ever gotten from the guy he'd have to fill him in on whatever was happening anyway. Guess it makes sense in a way. If you have enough time to listen to a message, you've got enough time to call.

The space behind his robes aches when he says, "We both shoulda picked up more, I guess. And Sammy wants me to call now. Like it makes up for shit. It doesn't."

He swipes the little red phone to the left, and stares at the word Cas in his contacts page.

But the screen goes blank, and all he can see are his puffy red eyes reflected in the black screen, and that's motivation, so he gets ready for bed.

1 Year, 10 Months, 13 Days

He calls a few times after that. But tries not to leave voicemails for someone that's just gone, in every sense of the word.

It’s dumb. Still really dumb. And he has no defense for it. Eventually Sam hands him Cas' old phone and a charger. All of the missed voicemails untouched.

Dean could swear he remembers ever last one.

They're mostly simple crap, sometimes. Updates.

"Sam and Eileen are getting hitched. They're pretty fucking disgusting together. But sometimes they look at me, and I can just see it, man. See how they like, bubble themselves off." He laughs, but it's strained. "Guess it just be written on my face. Which is just friggin’ fantastic. Cause I'm happy for them. I've always wanted that for Sam. But I wanted it for us too. Fucked up that I can only say it now, huh."

"I don't like the way burgers taste anymore. And I, uh, have a bumper sticker now. It's a bee. I kept it together until Sam got misty-eyed." There's a pause for a touch too long, then, "That mixtapes been the only thing in Baby for a month."

"I kept the trenchcoat. Wore it earlier. Got cold out for the first time since —" he sighs. "You wore it better. Looks like shit on me. It pretty much lives in my closet. Can't get monster guts on it that way."

But sometimes it's just a confession, none of the other bullshit. Just the truth.

"Look. I'm not mad. So don't think that. Cause I'm not. Wish I was. It's — it's always been easier. But I was trying to get my head on straight. I would've for you. I just… Don't know how now."

"Can't tell if I like using your old angel blade or fucking hate it. Don't like much of anything anymore. You were better with it."

"Id pray to you, but this is all I got. And I wish I could hope you're up there. But then I'd hope there isn't any pay per view Earth or whatever. Cause this shit? Is pitiful." A sigh. "G'night, Cas."

And one night, a long time later, he's sitting with his back against his bed, nestled next to the end table he never used, he says the truth in a way he knows he should've years and years ago.

"Guess this is like prayin', ain't it? Sammy caught me a few months ago. He wasn't even surprised I'm still doing this. Told me it was, uh — It was okay. Even if I just… never did. And you know what? I don't think l can." He gives a small laugh. "Hell, I only leave messages when I'm feeling, I dunno, brave? Like some part of me thinks you could still hear it and tell me to get lost."

Logically, he knows Cas wouldn't have kicked him to the curb. Wanted him just as much.

"God I listen to it almost every night dude. Just hearing this stupid fucking line — It's like hitting rewind, for a few seconds."

The rest comes off easy, in its own way

"I miss you, Buddy. And I — I love you more than I know what to do with. I wish it would've been enough. But instead, it killed you."

He ends it, and calls back. Just to listen to the only thing he'll ever hear Cas say again. It’s not a replacement, never will be until he can see if Heaven really does have an angels left.

But the only faith he ever had is just an echo on the other end.

"This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail."

#ok trying this agian to see if it actually pops up in anything I tag it with #destiel #deancas #suptober20 #suptober2020 #suptober #heres to hoping i guess?

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