#I saw these new posses and then I saw the laundry thing I still had up

[izayoichan]

Lucas: Why are you looking at me like that? River: I am a simple man, I like what I see. -winks- Lucas: You like watching lanudry being hung? River: When you do it, yes. Lucas: You are a silly, silly man.

River pulls his sunlight close, before winking at him. River: You are magic sunlight, you make laundry special Lucas: So.. I should do laundry more often?

He chuckled, feeling himself pulled into a kiss, he should clearly hang laundry more often if this was the result.

🎶

(Poses by @simmireen )

[hyperfixationswithkate]

connect | davey jacobs

reader x davey jacobs

[modern newsies au] 

summary: It’s been two years since they spoke, and they need a wedding date. What could go wrong? 

The opening of ‘You’re My Best Friend’ plays as you anxiously await for a response. The song he’d made his contact all those years ago as a joke but you’re too sentimental to let it go. You sprint across your apartment to grab it. “Hi,” you pant into the receiver. “As for your proposition, for you” your old friend said, “anything”. Your heartbeat races even faster at the thought of seeing him again. “Thank you” “See you then” He says and then the receiver clicks. 

Almost a month and a half later, you sit on your couch waiting. Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you think about the last time you saw him. It was almost two years ago now. After graduation, you two had slowly grown apart. People thought you guys were made for each other, actual soulmates, but time is a cruel mistress. Romance was never a word you would use to describe your relationship with Davey. He was always your partner in crime, your best friend, never your boyfriend. Well not never, the amount of times you’d see him laugh or talking or just existing and imagine a world where you two weren’t just friends. But the possibility of love wasn’t worth risking a friendship over. 

Somehow the idea of seeing him still makes you feel butterflies. Even though he recently moved to New York for a grad program, you didn’t reach out with the fear of being awkward or just wanting to leave things the way they were. But a friend’s wedding where they were desperate to meet your childhood friend after learning he’s in town and needing a date, a proposal arised. 

It wasn’t a large wedding but large enough that you could leave early if things got weird. Getting cornered into bringing a guy you haven’t seen in years to a wedding where you barely knew the bride wasn’t the finest combo but it will have to do. All your worries and fears were pulled from your mind with a knock on the door. ‘Here we go’ you thought. You pull the door open with a deep breath as you see him.

Wow, college has done him well. Davey was always handsome but wow. Maybe time isn’t so criminal after all. Suits make anybody better but damn does he pull it off. “Hey, long time no see” he says, “shut up” you breathe as you hug him. The silk of the suit touches your face, you can smell the laundry detergent. The same one he’s used since he was a kid. The stale cotton smell fills your mind with nostalgia. Memories of crying into his shirt over god knows what, or borrowing a jacket from his car after a spring rain. A small smell brings you back to a past life, a completely different person, someone afraid of the endless possibility of the future. But his voice brings you back to the present. As he pulls away from the hug, he says “So y/n, what’s the plan?” 

You two leave your apartment in an almost awkward silence. The fear of making things weird after two years of limited contact weights on you. As you approach his car, he says “so how did you get wrapped into a wedding?” You take a moment to reply and say “I barely know at this point, the groom is a friend of mine from my freshman writing class. His friend group is filled with frat boys and trust fund babies but he’s an alright guy and I am still easily peer pressured.” You ramble. 

“You have a theme of finding the one alright guy in a group of animals” He says, winking at you. “A prime example being your juvenile posse from freshman year.” You say. Davey playfully gasps, acting offended. “Jack, Race, Romeo, and the rest of the goonies weren't exactly angels but they weren't heathens” He says in an overly dramatic tone. 

He changes the subject before I can poke fun at his boys again saying “Me and Jack are sharing an apartment while I finish my double major and while he’s still doing random things to pay for art school. Some of the other boys are around town. It’s kind of homely though, especially through the first couple weeks. What was it like living somewhere completely new all on your own?” You think for a second and say “It’s kind of nice. Starting completely fresh. No one has any expectation of who you are. It was rough at first without anyone close but I was able to change without fear of ruining old friendships.” He nodded silently, definitely thinking about my statement and analyzing it like the over thinker he’s always been. 

We sat in a comfortable silence as we approached his car. Davey takes two large steps to reach the car door before you, “M’lady” he says as he opens the door. The inside of his car smelled like a lemon air freshener and his dashboard was covered in post it notes with random things scribbled on them. “What are these?” you say, staring at the little notes. “Oh well they started by me forgetting things all the time and it evolved into the boys leaving notes every time they’re in here alone. I’m too sappy to take them down” He replies as he gets into the driver seat. ‘If you mess this up, I’ll deck ya. Love Race’ reads one of the notes. Davey notices you eyeing the note as he starts the car and says quietly “Race wrote that one about today. He really wants us to be close again so when I drive down here to see you, I pick up cheap weed for him.” ''God that's such a Race thing to do'' you say laughing. He makes nervous eye contact with you that makes you think that maybe weed wasn’t Race’s only motive for us meeting again. But Davey speaks before your mind can race too far off, “So what’s the address for this wedding venue?” 

As we drive for a few minutes, Davey turns on the radio to fill the weird gap of silence between conversations and of course the first sing playing is “You’re my best friend” by Queen. The song about your partner being your best friend is playing, the song that could definitely be labeled as “our song” is playing, the universe is playing a cruel game on us today. Davey turns to you recognizing how significant this song is and says “You better remember all the words to this song” and of course I do. I reply by singing the opening verse very loudly. To which he does the exact same thing. As the song fades out, he says “I remember listening to that in high school. We used to sit on your bedroom floor and do homework while the whole Night At The Opera album played”. The nostalgia flooding back to you as his eyes focus back on the road. A particular memory stands out.

One night we were both studying for our AP Lit test in my bedroom. It was almost 2am and you’d been studying for hours. We snuck down to the kitchen for some snacks before the final haul of work. Running down the stairs your feet slip and Davey catches you in his arms. As you balance again, his arms don’t fall away and you turn to face him about to ask him if something is wrong. His eyes staring deeply into yours as you look at him and you savor the feeling of his warm hands on your arms. The moment quickly passed when your cat meowed very loudly at your feet, scaring the both of you apart. After raiding your kitchen, you two swiftly return upstairs to finish studying and hopefully avoiding another borderline romantic encounter for the evening. Once you close your bedroom door, Davey said “What’s your favorite record at the moment?”. He was trying to avoid studying but I didn’t really care. “Currently it’s A Night At The Opera by Queen. I just got it on vinyl and it’s definitely a winner” I say back. “Well then put it on” he says jokingly gesturing to the small record player in my room. “Alright mate” you mumble in a vague british accent knowing that’ll get him to laugh, and of course he does. You put on the record and the opening instrumental starts playing. 

We study for most of the album, only interrupted by pages flipping, pencils scratching, yawning, and me flipping the record. By the end of the album, we’re both lying on the floor staring at the ceiling in exhaustion, the carpet touching my bare arms as the final notes fade out. “That was incredible,” Davey says quietly, turning to face me on the ground. “I know” I say nodding, leaning towards him. For a few seconds, we were close enough together we could have kissed. Staring at each other waiting for the other to make a move. He turns away, a fear of making things weird overcomes him. You can tell in his face that he regrets it the moment he turns. 

The memory fades as the car stops at a red light. Turning to Davey as his eyes are fixed on the road, you see the side profile that you saw everyday at school. The slightly crooked nose that got broken from a flying book during lunch. The eyebrow that has a small scar above it from tripping at the city pool during freshman year. The pink blotch of color on his cheek that never seems to leave no matter the temperature. All these memories attached to him for better or for worse. 

He notices you staring as he turns the corner. “What?” he says quietly, blushing. “Nothing, just thinking” you say equally as quiet. “About what?” he almost whispers. Just as you panic about what to say, the GPS says “You have arrived at your destination”

[missblanchette]

Rumor Has It [4/10]

Series: Hypnosis Mic

Characters: Izanami Hifumi/Yumeno Gentaro; appearances from Jakurai and Doppo

Rating: T

Summary: Thousands of hearts broke that day. With tears shed and cries resounding to the heavens, each grief-stricken woman wondered how this could possibly happen. In the year 20XX of the H. Era, Matenrou’s MC GIGOLO and Fling Posse’s MC Phantom were officially in a relationship.

Except they weren’t, actually.

Notes: Please see the end notes on AO3 for some kinda lengthy cultural notes!

Words: 4,216

ko-fi // Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | You can read this on AO3! Hope you enjoy~! thanks for reading!! (* ﾟ∀ﾟ)ﾉｼ

Ch 4: Burying the Hatchet

Hifumi sure was as lucky as Jakurai said he was. He only needed to stay at Shinjuku Central an extra day to make sure that everything was stable, otherwise he was right as rain. Y'know, besides the bruise the IV left him and the sutures in his abdomen, but. Details. After he was all cleared, Jakurai brought him back home after he was done with his shift, though Hifumi insisted he could get by on his own. Nevertheless, Jakurai kept an ever watchful on him, his presence a welcome comfort against the shooting pain that came with every step.

"Doppo, I'm ho~me!"

Upon entering the apartment, they found Doppo hunched over his knees on the couch and his hands clenched tightly at his hair. Doppo's head snapped up as Hifumi announced his return, the bags underneath his eyes heavier than last he remembered seeing them. Shooting up from his seat, he marched towards them with a finger pointed at Hifumi.

"Hifumi, you idiot!" Doppo jabbed his finger into Hifumi's chest, his voice raw. Up close like this, he could see how red Doppo's eyes were. "How do you get stabbed? Again?! What would've happened if -- if -- if --"

The warmth leaving Hifumi's side, Jakurai strode over to Doppo and pulled him against his heart. "Deep breaths," he told him as he rubbed circles onto his back, and steadily Doppo regained his composure. Meanwhile, Hifumi smiled and took Doppo's hand in his.

"You're kinda cranky, Doppo~ Have you been eating well? Sorry I didn't leave any food for you while I was gone!"

From Jakurai's arms, Doppo glared at him though he made no move to slap Hifumi away. His frown deepened. "Why don't you ever think about yourself for once?"

Hifumi shrugged. "Should I?"

Doppo groaned and hit his head against Jakurai's chest. Tenderly, Jakurai threaded his fingers through Doppo's hair.

"Now, Doppo-kun, Hifumi-kun is back home safe and sound. Shouldn't we be happy about that?"

"I know -- I am -- it's just that..." Sighing, he stepped back from Jakurai's arms. He turned to Hifumi, the anger in his face giving way to weariness. "Hifumi. Please be more careful."

"Aw, Doppo-chin!" Ignoring the soreness in his arm, Hifumi wrapped Doppo into a hug. Without a second thought, he pulled Jakurai in as well and rocked the three of them back and forth. "Don't you guys worry 'bout a thing, I've faced scarier things than some knife!"

"That doesn't make me feel any better." Despite the exasperation in his words, Doppo leaned into his embrace.

At his side, Jakurai chuckled and patted Hifumi's head. "Hifumi-kun, why don't you rest up? Would you like something to eat?"

"It's okay! I can make dinner --"

"Oh no, you don't," Doppo said, dragging him towards the couch before he could skip off into the kitchen. "Not in your condition."

"But it's just dinner!"

"Doppo-kun is right.” Making sure Hifumi was seated properly, Jakurai adjusted the pillows on his sides. “In order for you to heal quickly, you should avoid putting stress on your body."

Hifumi squirmed. "I cook all the time, it won't be so bad."

"You need to rest," said Doppo. "I'll cook."

As if tasting Doppo's food already, Hifumi's face pinched together. "But your cooking sucks."

"I --" Doppo paused, the dark clouds looming over his head. "T-That's right, I'm so bad at cooking. Last time I tried, I set the rice on fire. And the time before that, the cup noodles --"

Before his self-deprecating tirade could spiral down further, Jakurai placed a hand on Doppo's shoulder. "Why don't I help you, Doppo-kun?"

He shook his head, resigned. "You don't have to, Jinguji-san. I'll order take out."

"Well, if you and Doc are cooking, then it should be fine!"

"But --"

"Let's do our best for Hifumi-kun, hm?" Jakurai took his hand, gracing him with a small smile. Adding to that, Hifumi grinned and gave him two thumbs up.

He glanced at Jakurai, then to Hifumi. Lips pursing in determination, Doppo nodded. "Right."

"Hey, can you guys make pasta?" Hifumi bounced in his seat, his wound burning with each hop. "Oh, oh! Or how 'bout sukiyaki?"

Doppo flicked his forehead with no real force, getting an "Ow!" from him regardless. "What do you think we are? Five-star chefs?"

"We'll see what we can do," said Jakurai, an amused lilt in his voice. "Now, please try not to move around so much. We don't want you re-opening the wound."

Hifumi saluted. "Aye-aye, Doc!"

With that, the two of them headed towards the kitchen. They’d turned the TV on to keep Hifumi entertained but coincidentally, the news was discussing the incident that happened a couple days prior; particularly about how they apprehended the woman who'd attacked him.

"But you belong to me!" Her distorted voice screeched from behind the screen, a low quality video of that night playing. "This is for your sake, Hifumi!"

Hifumi frowned, recalling how the police had visited him earlier to discuss the matter. When he'd brought up healing her with Jakurai's raps instead of flat out arresting her, they'd immediately shot him down. It wasn't like she meant to stab him. She just wasn't in the right mind! All she needed was help to see what she did wrong then she could've been left alone. Sadly, no one working on the case bothered to hear him out.

The news went on to discuss his relationship with Yumeno Gentaro, but honestly, Hifumi could care less for the rumors themselves. When you were Shinjuku's number one host, people spread stuff about you all the time to ruin your rep. If others got involved, though, he wouldn’t let them slide so easily. He hadn’t been thinking when he pushed Gentaro out of the way, but it'd be a lie if he said he regretted it. Like how he had protected Doppo, like how he would protect Jakurai, Hifumi wouldn't dare let anyone get hurt because of him -- rival or not.

Especially not when he remembered Gentaro's face. Not when he remembered how ashen he looked in spite of the jabs he threw at the woman, or how shaken his green eyes appeared to be as he gawked at him. For all of Gentaro's high-and-mightiness on the battle stage, he was anything but when he caught him in his arms. Gentaro showed no hint of vulnerability when facing him in Chuuoku, not one sign of fear the way he did during the incident. And that look of fear was a thing that weighed heavily on him.

Fear was a feeling Hifumi knew all too well, a feeling he shoved deep, deep, deep into the depths of his mind; fear was a feeling that haunted him, a feeling that blamed him for every single, little thing that he did. If only he'd acted faster, Hifumi berated himself, then maybe he would've avoided seeing the fear on Gentaro's face that night.

His eyes fluttering closed, one thought crossed Hifumi's mind: did Gentaro get home safely?

It was one thing to be cooped up at home, it was another to have limits on his usual routine. No laundry except folding because he twisted a lot during loading and hanging; no cleaning because he bent too often to reach every spot; no grocery shopping because lifting caused too much strain. Talk about boring. That wasn’t to say he didn’t appreciate Doppo and Jakurai’s efforts to cover those things for him but life wasn’t the most exciting when all he could do was light cooking and wander around the apartment. He couldn’t even spam text Doppo, Jakurai, or Matenrou’s group chat since they were busy at work. Legs rubbing together like a cricket, Hifumi flipped through the TV channels in hopes of finding something entertaining.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and Hifumi shot up from the couch. Wincing as the bruise pinched him and the wound pierced him, he practically ran over to the intercom. The grin he'd been wearing puckered into confusion as he saw who was at the door: Yumeno Gentaro, posture rimrod straight and hands folded within his sleeves. Don’t get him wrong, Hifumi was glad to see him okay after what happened, but he wasn’t exactly who he expected. Not dwelling on it too hard, he reached for the door handle but the memory of Gentaro's feminine act hit him faster than he could open it up. Stomach churning, he bit his lip.

The sharp pain but an afterthought, Hifumi dashed to his room and dug through his closet. He was down a suit jacket, but there were definitely more where it came from. There was one where the seams were coming loose (sewing didn't count as "too strenuous," right?); this one, the cuff buttons were falling off (another sewing project to be done); that one was getting kinda small (he could probably tailor this to size); and -- ah! He grabbed the one farthest in and threw it on top of his sweatshirt. It wasn't his favorite jacket, but it'd do.

Leaving his room with the saunter of a host, Hifumi opened the door in time to see Gentaro walking away.

"Oh, Yumeno-sensei~" he said, posing against the door frame. Gentaro turned around, brows furrowing as soon as his eyes landed on him. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

"Nothing in particular." Haltingly, Gentaro came face-to-face with him. "Simply staking out the competition, is all."

"And what competition would that be?"

"Need I remind you? I told you I've been considering becoming a host. With you out of commission, now would be the perfect opportunity."

"Mhm, but that was a lie, no?"

A mirthless smile grew on Gentaro's face. "I see your memory is still in tact."

"It was my body that was injured, not my mind." In return, Hifumi smirked. "Then again, how could I forget such a riveting discussion with an equally interesting kitten."

"Is that so?" Gentaro gave him a look, though it held no actual bite. "To cut to the chase, I figured I owe you some gratitude for the other day."

A beat passing, Gentaro pulled a box out of his sleeve -- Sakura Momo Strawberries to be exact, a gift not unlike the many lavishes his kittens bestowed upon him. Their fingers brushing against each others', Hifumi took it with a hum of approval.

"Sakura Momo Strawberries? This is quite the show of gratitude, Yumeno-sensei."

"Like I said, this is merely hospitality for what you've done for me. Nothing more, nothing less."

Pressing the strawberries to his chest, Hifumi put on a smolder. "Why, to think you've thought of me touches my heart~"

"You're fortunate that's the only thing touching you," said Gentaro, a sigh accompanying his words. "Anyhow, that’s all I came here for. I’ll be taking my leave."

"Oh, so soon?" Host mode taking full reign, Hifumi asked, "Why don't you stay for a while and join me for lunch?"

"As exhilarating as the invitation sounds, I have other business to attend to."

"You can't spare an hour? It's ever so lonely staying home alone."

Gentaro’s gaze shifted from side-to-side. "Even if I could, I don't believe it would be very wise."

"Why not, pray tell?"

Gentaro’s lips tightened. "I'd rather not risk any more rumors being spread about the two of us."

Scoffing, Hifumi waved him off. "If that's what you're afraid of, worry not. Security here was improved after the last incident."

Not giving him the chance to respond, Hifumi took Gentaro's wrist and pulled him inside. Gentaro stood rigidly at the entryway, scanning the room before he carefully removed his shoes and murmured a low "Pardon my intrusion."

"Make yourself at home, Yumeno-sensei~" Placing a hand to the small of Gentaro's back, Hifumi lead him to the couch.

Gentaro stepped away from his touch, though he followed along nonetheless. "Out of curiosity, do you always wear that suit jacket inside the house?"

"Is there a reason not to?"

"It seems rather uncomfortable, is it not?"

With a flourish of his hands, Hifumi flashed a pose. "I'm most comfortable when I can be myself."

Eyeing him, Gentaro sat down. "I see."

"Is there anything you'd like to eat, Yumeno-sensei? How about a drink?" Hifumi asked, ready to make his way to the kitchen. "Ah, you'll have to forgive me. Doppo and Dr. Jakurai have done the cooking, so I think it's best if we order takeout."

"There's no need. I've already eaten before coming here."

"Surely you have room for a little more?" Taking a seat beside him, Hifumi opened the box of strawberries with the grace that came from popping open champagne bottles every night. He tilted it towards Gentaro. "After all, I can't possibly finish this by myself."

Gentaro's green eyes met his, glancing back and forth between him and the box. With nimble fingers, he plucked up a strawberry. "I suppose one or two won't hurt."

Like so, Hifumi took a strawberry for himself. "I must say you have exquisite taste, Yumeno-sensei. Sakura Momo Strawberries are among my favorites."

A shrug to his shoulders, Gentaro gestured vaguely. "My life is worth as much as the price."

Humming, Hifumi bit into his strawberry -- perhaps too big a bite since juice spurt out and dripped down his chin. Skillfully, he grabbed a tissue and dabbed himself clean.

"Oh, you've a stain on your jacket."

Hifumi looked down, seeing that what Gentaro said was true. On the lapel laid a red stain small enough that it wouldn't be too difficult to get out, but big enough that it was quite noticeable.

"Why, I do," he said, pressing the tissue to it. "No matter, I'll clean it up later."

"Are you sure? Why don't you allow me take care of it? Consider it another way of expressing my gratitude." As he’d spoken, Gentaro reached out for his jacket and Hifumi chuckled nervously.

"Oho, there's no need for that," Hifumi said, pushing Gentaro’s wrists to the sides. "You're the guest here, let me take care of myself."

Gentaro's gaze fell to his suit jacket, eyes lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "If you insist."

"Please help yourself, Yumeno-sensei. I'll return soon."

Leaving Gentaro behind, Hifumi strode towards his room with slow steps; something that not only lessened the aches in his body, but also bade him time. How terrible, Hifumi thought, to be cornered in the comfort of your own home. While he might've faced Gentaro out of host mode before, he had Doppo or Jakurai there with him at least. Without his suit, he lacked the ability to finesse his way out of the situation, the confidence to tackle his problems head on. Staring at his vanity's mirror, Hifumi weighed his options: take off the suit jacket and face the possibility of a breakdown should Gentaro pull anything, or replace it and face scrutiny.

Then again, perhaps he was assuming the worst of Gentaro. It was strange that he showed up at his apartment, admittedly, let alone knew where he lived, but he hadn't shown any sign of ulterior motives so far. He'd even gave him strawberries, which could be seen as a peace offering of sorts. Pretty as a kitten he might be, the chances of him doing anything hostile were low. Or at least, he hoped so. Choosing to give him the benefit of the doubt, Hifumi carefully slid off his jacket and put it away for washing. He clapped his cheeks and took a breath before returning to the living room.

"Totes soz if I made you wait long, Yumeno-sensei! Your neighborhood friendly Hifumin's back~"

As he plopped back into his seat, Gentaro gave him a once over. His head tilted and he quirked a brow up. "There's certainly a different air to you."

"Y'know what they say: clothes make the man. Or something!" With that, Hifumi popped a strawberry into his mouth.

"Indeed they do." Gentaro nodded along, taking a bite of his own strawberry. "You seem rather chipper for someone who's left the hospital, if I may say. I take it recovery is going well?"

"Psh, it was just a little stab! It wasn't like it was my first time anyways," he said, a laugh ending his sentence.

"You did mention that before..." He trailed off, Hifumi hearing hesitance in Gentaro's words for once. "Excuse me if this is too invasive, but may I ask as to what happened?"

Bouncing forward, Hifumi drummed his palms against his knees. Gentaro startled back a bit, a hand flying to his chest.

"Funny story actually! That's how I met Dr. Jakurai!"

He jumped right into it, recounting the whole Stalker Incident right from the night the woman had broken into the apartment. His hands fluttered around him as he mimed every lash, every hit, every freak out; his voice changed into bad imitations of Doppo, Jakurai, and the woman when he spoke their parts. All the while, he ignored the phantom pain in his arm, as well as the aches his bruise and wound brought. How couldn't he when he had a story to tell, of course! What finally brought him to a pause, though, was when he noticed that Gentaro's attention was focused elsewhere.

"...and Doc looked sooo awesome when his speakers turned on and -- hey, what's that?"

Gentaro froze, a pen in hand and a book on his lap, and he blinked as if broken out of a spell. Slowly, he tucked the pen inside the book and closed it.

"I hear better when I can read what's being said," Gentaro told him. "So I like to transcribe every word I hear."

"Ooh, like subtitles? Y'know, Doppo mumbles when he's really tired and I can barely understand him, so maybe I should do that."

Green eyes running over him, Gentaro's lips tugged up.

"That was a lie, although I do apologize for writing down your story without your permission." Gaze falling to the book's cover, he tapped it. "I must admit, I found it rather interesting and couldn't help but pen it."

"Whoa, so that's like your writing book?" Without warning, Hifumi reached for it but Gentaro swiped it up.

"Yes, it's a book in which I write in," Gentaro said, holding it close to his chest.

"Boo, y'know what I mean. Like a book where you write all your ideas and stuff!"

"Well, I suppose you're not wrong in that regard either."

"That's so cool!"

Again, Hifumi grabbed for it but Gentaro raised it higher into the air. He tried once more, standing up for leverage but Gentaro followed suit and raised the book even higher. Hifumi pouted.

"I wanna see it."

"Why should I let you?"

"Why not?"

"Hm, that's not a good enough reason." Presenting the notebook as it were an ancient relic, Gentaro took on the voice of an elderly sage. "Only they whom art worthy enough art allowed to lay their eyes upon mine inspirations."

Folding his arms, Hifumi puckered his lips in thought. He bobbed his head up and down, mumbling as he racked through his mind for any decent reason. The pain throughout his body pinched him and he gasped, slapping his hands to his cheeks.

"You should let me see it 'cause I'm injured!"

Gentaro squinted. "I fail to see the correlation."

"’Cause I’m injured, I’ve been stuck here, right?" Hifumi said, throwing his arms out and swinging them about as if to capture the living room’s space. "And it's been su~per boring in the house, y'know? So like, reading your book will cure my boredom and make me feel way better!"

Silence was his reply, accompanied by a stare of green eyes. Peering down, Gentaro leafed through his notebook and the pages flittered by like the wings of a hummingbird. Once he'd reached the end, he closed the book with a definitive snap and met his eyes. For the first time that day, Gentaro let out the smallest of chuckles.

"Very well then," he said, the slightest hint of amusement in his tone. "Who am I to deny an ill man a cure?"

Giving his notebook one last look, Gentaro handed it to him.

"Yay~! Don't worry, Yumeno-sensei, I'll be extra careful with it!"

"Thou should be," Gentaro replied in his sage's voice. "Or else thou wouldst have to face the wrath of the gods otherwise."

"Those gods sound kinda grumpy." Giggling, Hifumi flopped back into his seat and opened the book like a child eager for story time.

To be honest, Hifumi didn't know what to expect from a writer's journal but what he did know was that it was as entertaining as he thought it would be. More, even! With handwriting as pretty as the writer himself, Gentaro's notebook was filled with various notes and out-of-context scenes and lines of dialogue. Scratch outs were made, parallel to the lines; arrows pointed here and there, connecting ideas together; little doodles drawn in the margins helped illustrate his ideas further, though there was definitely a reason Gentaro was a writer and not an artist. Nonetheless, each page was worn with care and something about that made Hifumi smile.

Skimming the pages, he caught sight of a familiar name. He flipped back quickly, jaw dropping when he landed on it. He pointed at the name and shook Gentaro's arm.

"Hey, that's TOP DANDY!"

"Ah, indeed. Like I said, I was doing research."

"Research for what?"

Gentaro held a finger to his lips. "Now that's a secret."

"You can't give a hint?" Hifumi whined, pouting.

"Nope," Gentaro said, popping the "p." His eyes scanned the page, index finger trailing along until he landed on a list of rankings. "But I did mean to inquire more about this..."

From the types of drinks they kept in a host club, to the hobbies of a host, to the activities that went on behind the scenes, Gentaro went over each detail and Hifumi was more than happy to throw in his input. The journal sitting between their laps as they bounced off ideas, Hifumi watched as Gentaro scribbled down what he’d said and so they continued on like that -- Hifumi pointing at each and every line with the awe of a starry-eyed child and Gentaro further explaining the notes he so meticulously jotted down. Hifumi hadn't ever read a single one of Gentaro's books before, but if hearing the process behind them meant anything, then his actual novels must've been just as good!

It was easy to lose track of time when immersed in the world of another, however. The next thing Hifumi knew, the front door swung open.

"I'm home -- huh?"

"Doppo, welcome back!" His head turned towards Doppo, who looked back at him with his brows creased and his mouth hanging. Grinning, he tipped the journal in Gentaro's direction. "Look, look, Yumenon stopped by to visit me!"

The poker face Gentaro wore turned into one of bemusement, eyes leaving Doppo and snapping back to him. "'Yumenon'?"

"Yeah, ‘Yumenon’. 'Cause it’s cuter than 'sensei'!"

Doppo's awkward laughter broke into the moment, warily stepping into the apartment as if he was the guest.

"Ah, it's good that Yumeno-san kept you company..." He glanced nervously at Gentaro. "Er, is Yumeno-san staying over tonight or...?"

Looking at the window, Hifumi's eyes widened. "Oh my God, yeah, it's like super late! Wanna stay for dinner?"

Gentaro shook his head, plucking his notebook from Hifumi's hands and thumbing through it to make sure not a page was out of place.

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I should head home now if I don't want to miss the train."

"You sure?" Hifumi leaned in with a hand covering his mouth, whispering a little too loudly to be considered a whisper. "I'll cook something while Doppo's not looking and he doesn't have to know."

Huffing out a laugh, Gentaro stood up and tucked the notebook into his pocket.

"Yes, I'm quite sure. I believe I've overstayed my welcome, anyhow. Take care... Izanami-san," he said, bowing his head slightly. Then, he turned to Doppo and did the same. "Kannonzaka."

"Aw, okay..." Hifumi said, following him to the entrance. With the elegance of a host, he opened the door for him and waved. "Bye bye, Yumenon! Come visit again!"

He gave him a wry smile. "I'll consider it."

And with that, Gentaro was gone.

"Seems like you had fun today," Doppo said once he'd closed the door.

Beaming, Hifumi turned to him with his chest puffed out and his hands on his hips. Aches and pains aside, the day turned out better than he thought it would. Though Gentaro was the last person he expected to drop by, certainly his presence broke the monotony of being cooped up at home. From the strawberries to the notes of his journal, Gentaro had given him more than he could imagine -- a colorful world filled with things he'd never stopped to think about and a vibrant perspective he’d never considered. The image of the pretentious writer he'd faced on Chuuoku’s stage fading away, Hifumi figured Gentaro wasn't as bad as he originally thought him to be. Well, he wasn't one to hold a grudge anyways.

"Yeah, lots! Like -- wait. Here, Doppo-chin, have some strawberries! Yumenon brought them! Oh, and we gotta save some for Doc, too..."

[winsister91]

Looks Better On The Floor

Part of the SOWINFREDSISIE Celebration!

Summary: @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid asked: Happy 500 to you both! For my request I was thinking Sam/Dean find you getting ready for bed wearing the other brother’s shirt. As their girlfriend they give you a reminder of whose clothes you should be wearing to bed. Or not wearing, I mean naked is good. *wink wink nudge nudge* I wrote for Dean and @sofreddie wrote for Sam: It’s Just A Shirt

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam (mentioned)

Warnings: Fluff, language, implied smut

Word Count: 903

My Masterlist!

~ Dean and forever tags are open! ~

Dean was splayed out on the motel bed. He clicked away on a remote with pouted lips as he flicked through the TV channels. He had no interest in what was on though, he was just killing time. His eyes darted to the left to glance at the bathroom door, it was still shut, the sound of streaming water slightly audible on the other side. He sighed impatiently, moving his eyeline back to the TV. He settled on some random action flick, the kind that was all explosions and no plot, so it didn’t take Dean long to work out what was going on. Bad Guy had taken Pretty Girl hostage and Good Guy had tracked them down. First there’d be a car chase, then a gun fight, Good Guy wins and kisses the girl. The defining factor on how good the film was, would be how many explosions it could insert during that time. Dean nodded in approval when he saw his third in ten minutes. It was the kind of film he’d enjoy most watching with you, cuddled up in bed or on a sofa with copious amounts of beer and popcorn, the both of you ripping into how ridiculous it was and providing your own ‘comedic gold’ commentary.

Dean’s ears pricked up when he heard the familiar squeak of the shower being turned off. His eyes darted again to the door, which still remained firmly shut. He shuffled up a bit in anticipation. Then incoming moment was a small pleasure of his, one of the highlights of you both being out on a hunt together. Dean knew that shortly, you were going to emerge from the bathroom freshly showered. Your hair would be still damp and tousled from being towel dried, and you would be wearing one of his old shirts. It would hang on you, oversized with sleeves overlapping your hands, and the bottom of the shirt just stopping below the booty. It was a simple but effective look, one that drove Dean wild. Just the fact that it was his shirt made it all the more hotter, he could feel a semi coming on just at the thought.

He smirked to himself, he knew that you knew he loved the look, and what it would undoubtedly lead to.

He quickly snaps back to reality as he hears the handle on the bathroom door turn, and there you were. Hair damp and shirt donned just as expected, wonderfully.

“Hey,” you cooed with a wink, as you made your way towards the bed.

“Hey there,” Dean replied coolly, tongue poking out slightly between his teeth as he looked you up and down.

As you drew closer, Dean spotted that something was...off. The sleeves overlapped your hands almost comically this time, and the bottom of the shirt hung way lower, almost touching the back of your knees.

You hopped on the bed next to him, not noticing the bewildered look on his face. You snuggle into him and look at the TV.

“What are we watching?” you asked chirpily.

He didn’t answer, prompting you to turn your attention back to him. His eyes were narrowed, staring at the shirt intently. He was studying it, trying to remember it. It was a dark green and black plaid one, Dean honestly couldn’t remember if he had one like that or not.

“Problem?” you raised your eyebrow in confusion.

“Let me look at that,” he mumbled, hand reaching down the back of your neck as he fumbled within.

“What the hell!?” you squeak, trying to wriggle free.

He grabbed hold of the tag on the back of shirt, looking at it briefly before he threw his hands up in disbelief.

“That’s not mine!!” He yelled, “That’s Sam’s shirt!!”

“What are you talking about?” you laugh, “Of course it’s yours!”

“No way,” he shook his head, “That aint my size, it’s god damn Yeti sized!”

“Huh…” you stop in thought, holding your hand up and watching what seemed like a whole quarter of the sleeve dropping over your hand, “I thought it seemed a bit big…I dunno, I just grabbed it outta the clean laundry. No biggie.”

“No biggie!?” Dean gasped, “You’re wearing my brother’s shirt and I’m supposed to be okay with that?”

“Well maybe one of you should consider wearing something other than god damn plaid,” you laughed shoving him lightly, “Then maybe I can freaking distinguish what’s yours and his! Hell, it even took you a moment to notice.”

“You giving me attitude?” Dean tilted his head with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“So what if I am?” you shrugged with a smirk, “What you going to do about it?”

“I’m gonna make you pay for picking out the wrong shirt,” he growled, lunging for your arms and pinning you down on the bed.

“Oh!” you squealed in delight, “Oh nooo.”

Dean straddled you before releasing his grip on your arms.

“You can start by taking that damn thing off,” he said in a sinfully low voice.

You didn’t need telling twice, hastily tearing the buttons open and shuffling your arms out of the sleeves. Dean grabs the flannel as soon as it’s off you and throws it to the side, looking you up and down again as you laid before him completely exposed.

“Aw yeah,” he grinned, “That’s a shirt that definitely looks better on the floor.”

Tags! This means I’m unable to tag you anymore :( If I was able to tag you before, PLEASE (if you are over 18) set your blog to ‘explicit’ and also turn off ‘safe mode’. This will be why I can’t tag you anymore because of Tumblr’s new bullshit.

Forever Posse: @sofreddie @chelsea074298 @ria132love @untitled39887 @chicagolove88 @akshi8278 @sis-tafics @younoeatcheeseyounobefat @mandilion76 @teamfreewill92 @supernaturalmagicfolk @emoryhemsworth @musicistobeheard-blog @pheonyxstorm @mrswhozeewhatsis @turnttoverr @itspronouncedsatanbitch @the--real-wombat   @xagateophobiax @samisimportant @jensen-gal @castielle11235 @waiting-to-find-myshadows   @19agbrown   @mogaruke   @nyxveracity   @cole-winchester   @esoltis280  

Dean Darlings: @annoyingpeople-postingthings @hobby27 @sleepless-sin  @keira1416 @imascio08

[adamkadabra]

The Long Truth || Self Para

Tagging→  ADAM CRAWFORD, MELINDA CRAWFORD Where→  Adam & Puck’s Dorm. When→ 01/21/17 (morning) Warnings→ Scary images(?)

Adam had spent most of the week continuing to prepare for the field study. He had been crowned King of Midnight Madness and Adam had a title and an image to uphold. It was very weird to think about, he had an image. Adam never had an image and really it wasn’t like him to care about such a thing. However, this was important. He had beat Hunter Clarington and Adam wanted to make sure no one underestimated him or thought the win was a fluke. Although, it would feel odd being around Rachel and Tina. He hadn’t spoken with Tina at all since the win and his last conversation with Rachel didn’t end well.

He had thought about calling her or texting her dozens of time but maybe Blaine was right and she did just need space. Adam pushed aside any feelings of guilt. He was the winner and he shouldn’t be sorry about it, right? Adam joined Midnight Madness to prove everyone wrong about his magic. To prove his father wrong even if he was not present to see or know about it.

He had everything ready to go for the field study. His bag was packed with his grimoire, which had Fenn inside, various potions and materials should he get separated from the grimoire and not the bag and he even stored some items inside his amulet. The confidence in Adam was practically radiating off of him. He won a field study before, he could do it again. Maybe this time they would recognize when they won as a team.

Adam tugged his boots onto his feet and just finished tying them when a knock came on the door. He looked up. Seemed to be a thing this week with people coming to his room unannounced. It was quite early for a visitor. He crossed over to his door thinking it had to be Elliott or even Sam. Maybe even Mason again since he had a history of coming to his room without prior notice. Upon opening the door, Adam saw someone he least expected to see.

“Mum?”

Melinda Crawford beamed as her son opened the door. She flung her arms out and pulled Adam into a tight hug. “Moonpie!” She exclaimed. Adam was confused and in shock to see her that he didn’t react right away.

“Uh..mum what are you doing here?” He asked instead of greeting her with a ‘hello.’ This earned a smack on the arm. “What was that for?”

“A hello would be nice. I raised you so I know that you have manners.” Melinda said.

Adam stood back and rubbed his arm. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. In New York. At NYADA. On the opposite side of my dorm.”

Melinda waved her hand and invited herself inside to Adam’s room. She immediately made a tisking noise with her tongue and bent over, scooping up dirty laundry.

“Adam Nathaniel.” She scolded.

“Mum, you know I love you but what are you doing here?” Adam asked watching as she swept over the room cleaning up anything she could.  

Melinda dropped the clothes into the hamper. “This is where dirty laundry goes not on the floor. And is that...how long has that plate being sitting there on that desk?”

Adam’s brow furrowed. “Since this morning, I had some toast--Mum answer the question, what are you doing here?”

Melinda looked up and sighed looking exasperated. “A mother can’t drop by to visit her only son?”

Adam arched a brow and folded his arms across his chest. Melinda huffed and waved a hand at him. She sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to her.

“Alright, alright. You win. I did want to see you though, you know I always do.” He said and pinched his cheek when he took a spot next to her on the bed. Adam protested but she paid no mind. She often liked to do things like this just to irritate him. “I came in part because I thought it was time for me to explain why I had such a...strong reaction to Elliott being a Shedim.”

Adam’s brow furrowed a little. “And the other part?”

“We’ll get to that later. For now I want to explain.” Melinda said.

“Why? I mean, I am happy that you’re willing to talk about it but why now and why the sudden visit? Is everything alright?” Adam asked. He was starting to get the feeling that it wasn’t and it was really beginning to cause panic.

Melinda took her son’s hand and patted the back of it. “It’s fine, love. I just...I know I owe you an explanation.”

Realizing that his mother wasn’t going to tell him the real reason she showed up in New York, unannounced, until the end of her story Adam had no choice but to sit and listen. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear this, but he knew she was hiding something.

“You’re not..you’re not about to head off someplace, are you?” She asked noticing the bag and his outfit.

Adam was about to say he was going to be late for the field study but decided not to mention it. She’d make him go and Adam wanted to hear this. There would be other field studies. He shook his head.

“I was just going to go for a walk, get out of the room. Nothing important.” Adam said.

Melinda didn’t press for a further explanation and instead took a deep breath before she began. “First off, you have to understand that it’s not just Bloodlines that have Shedims. I know you may automatically think that as the case, but some New Age families go back quite a ways and like to think themselves as Bloodlines. Although, we all know they are far from it.” She said with a slight eye roll.

“You know that on my mother’s side we go back about four generations. That’s hardly a lot compared to others who can trace their lineage to the burning times. My father’s family had been made up of witches since the 1600’s. New Ages passing down their knowledge of magic through the generations. Perhaps even further back, as far as it can go to where Commons discovered they too could posses magic. Since I was a child, my father told me stories of demons, as parents do to scare their children into behaving.”

“You never did that to me.” Adam said with a frown, interrupting.

“I read you those Grimm stories every night before bed. Read them again, Adam. It’s not my fault you have an overactive imagination and were never scared of monsters like most children. You were too curious for your own good.You thought those stories were fascinating. I think it’s where your love of the fantastic came about.” She said shaking her head. “Now don’t interrupt.”

Melinda cleared her throat. “Where was I...yes. My father would tell me stories of demons before I even knew magic was real. In our family we waited until the child came to be thirteen, maybe twelve, before an imbuement was done. There were some relatives that did it as early as five. The point is, there was one story that frightened me more than anything. The story of a particular demon called a Shedim.” Melinda’s voice dropped a little quieter. “He told me how they were these massive monstrous creatures with skin dark as pitch and eyes white as freshly fallen snow. They could make themselves appear human so you never knew who they were. They had these claws that could cut through anything and were sent to punish those who had been wicked.”

Adam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had never met his grandfather, as he had passed away before Adam was born, but he couldn’t believe someone would tell their child a story like this. Not to mention that he was painting Shedims in a totally untrue light. Adam couldn’t imagine Elliott ever doing anything like that.

“Those who were wicked or children who acted out in public would find themselves visited by a Shedim at night. They would watch from the foot of the bed with their white, pupilless, eyes and if you caught them watching you they would reach up and drag you from your bed with their claws.”

Adam’s eyes went wide. “Christ mum!” he exclaimed. “That’s horrible! And not even true! You believe that?”

“I was a child! I had heard these stories since I was three. Just because you didn’t believe in monsters.” Melinda shot back.

“No, just a different kind.” Adam mumbled.

Melinda pretended as though she didn’t hear. “By the time my imbuement came around I was still unaware that Shedims were more than just the demons that haunted my nightmares and made me afraid to act out in public. Aunt Helene told me she informed you of how my grandparents had their own Shedim. Yes?”

Adam nodded.

“And how it should have passed to my uncle Albert. Yes, well my mum had the idea that I would benefit from a summer with my cousins. My cousin David was my age and I didn’t have any siblings like she had and thought it might be nice for me to study with others my own age.” Melinda shook her head. “Sure we could have gone to an actual school, but my parents preferred, as did their parents, to self teach. I didn’t want to go, as my cousins and my uncle were...an acquired taste.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met them.” Adam said. “This is uncle Albert, right? Aunt Helene’s younger brother.”

Melinda nodded. “Uncle Albert, as you know, died before you were born but there is a reason you haven’t met this part of the family.” Melinda sat up a little straighter. “It was 1986 and I had just turned 15. My cousin David and I got along...well enough. His younger brother Blake was ten and acted as his older brother’s shadow. The eldest Dowell son, Samson was 18. The family was suffering from the recent loss of their eldest child and daughter Julia. She had been killed in the cross fire of a duel between two other New Ages that she kept close company with.”

Adam knew this part of the family history but he never asked questions about them, knowing his mum didn’t enjoy talking about them. Aunt Helene was not fond of it either and they were her own first nephews.

“My uncle wasn’t around much so Samson led some of the er, classes. I use that term very loosely. Remember when I said that there are some New Ages that believe themselves to be as good as Bloodlines because their magic goes back generations? Your uncle and his family lived those notions and his children still do today as do their children. It’s disgusting really.”

Melinda folded her hands in her lap. “My first week at my uncle’s estate went by without any problems. Lessons were dull and short as my uncle hardly found the time and will to get out of bed, mourning the loss of his beloved daughter a year prior. And there wasn’t much to do. I found myself in the kitchen with a few of the maids and spent all the time I could down there. They were also kitchen witches and I learned a great deal from them that summer. I learned more from them than my uncle and cousins. All I could learn from them was ignorance. And I’m afraid I showed that when I met Elliott.” Melinda looked ashamed.

Adam grabbed his mum’s hand and squeezed it. She smiled at him and proceeded.

“My cousin Samson learned of my nightmares about the Shedim and decided to introduce me to theirs not in a formal manner either. Remember until then I had been under the assumption they were stories my father and mother had made up to scare me but they were terrifying nonetheless. It wasn’t until the second week into my visit that I learned one of the servants that worked there did so under orders. He was a Shedim. At first I didn’t believe them. But Samson found this to be a grand opportunity to torture me. He said he was just teaching me the true nature of Shedim, as he would later defend his actions. I woke up one night to see white eyes staring at me from the end of the bed. I thought I had been dreaming but I discovered later Samson had ordered the Shedim to sit there and watch me.”

Adam shuddered and held tighter onto his mother’s hand. He was angry. He was furious that this had happened to her even if it did nothing to be mad at the situation as it was in the past. Melinda, noticing the anger in her son’s eyes brought her hand up to his cheek.

“It’s fine, sweetie. I’m alive.” She said. “But..those pranks continued through the summer. It escalated to the point where Samson ordered the Shedim to chase me, but I hadn’t known he was the one ordering him around. I thought the Shedim was acting on its own accord and Samson would come to my ‘rescue’ by stopping the Shedim before it caught me. And for a short time I believed it.” She sighed. “I begged my mum to let me come home but she told me I had to stay. No one believed me about the Shedim and what it--he did to me. That’s..I don’t like thinking about it. I was afraid to stand up to my cousins, and so I endured the rest of the summer. I was sent back the following summer as well.”

“My uncle Albert once punished Samson for what he did, and the terrorizing stopped for a time but I was petrified. As you can see, Shedims were always unnatural creatures and wicked in my mind. My mother and father imbued that in me. I hadn’t known anything else. Later I would learn different but not experience it. I panicked when I saw you with Elliott and learned that he was a Shedim. I based my opinion on him off of what happened to me as a child. It wasn’t that Shedim’s fault, it was my cousin. I understand that now and I was wrong to act the way I did.”

Adam sighed. It was a lot of information to take in over the last twenty minutes. He ran a hand through his hair. “Mum, I didn’t know..I’m...Aether, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” She said.

“I’m just glad you told me and that you’re willing to accept Elliott and give him a chance. He’s amazing, mum. He really is. I love him so much and he’s just..he’s not like anything witches say Shedims are.”

Melinda smiled. “I know, Moonpie. I know that now. I’m so happy I’ve gained another son in him. He makes you happy and that’s all I want.”

Adam wrapped his arms around his mum and pulled her close. He couldn’t believe that they had gone two months without talking. “I love you mum.”

“Love you too, Moonpie.” She said and kissed his cheek.

Adam sat back. “So...you said that was one reason for coming here. What was the other?”

Melinda bit her bottom lip and hesitated. “I didn’t want to do this over the phone or through a text.”

“Is it Aunt Helene?” He asked standing. “Is she alright?”

Melinda shook her head. “No, she’s fine. I promise. It’s not that. Your..your father contacted me.”