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horrorslashergirl · 4 years ago

Note

Samuel Grayson x reader where the reader is a soft-spoken, gentle and loving single mom with either a baby or a toddler who moves into Samuel's old apartment while running from an abusive ex? thank you so much!

Samuel Grayson x Reader- New Owner

Warnings: 18+ for abusive themes, gore and death

Words: 2.4k

If only things would have been different, but life doesn't let you know what will happen, because if you knew you would have never gotten into this relationship in the first place. To say the divorce went fine was a big lie, especially since you took full custody of your child.

Your now ex-husband couldn't afford to take care of your son; he was unemployed, plus he was charged with middle violence, not to mention the scandal he caused at the court, so the judge took the best decision.

Moving away from the small town and far away into San Fransisco was a big change not only for you but for your son too, but the good part was that despite being a six-year-old, he could understand the necessity of moving away.

'As long as I am with you, mom, I'm good.' Will told you when you packed the things you need to move.

Now you were at the lobby of the building you were gonna live in, waiting for the administrator to come and hand you the keys to the apartment. It was the cheapest you could find and also not one of these cramped shoe-box-like apartments in dangerous neighbors.

It was actually a pretty big one; a living room with a big kitchen, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a dressing-room. At first, you were skeptical of the price, not to mention the building was in central San Fransisco, so it was like winning the Jackpot.

The team of guys started to move the boxes to the apartment, taking the elevator and you saw a man dressed in a grey suit with a red tie, his brown hair slicked back. He noticed you and your son and smiled, walking towards you two.

"Mrs. [Exhusband surname]?" he asked and you frowned at the surname of your ex-husband, a bitter feeling in your throat.

"Not anymore. Just call me [Name]." you replied and the man gave you a sympathetic smile.

"I understand and I am deeply sorry. I am the manager of this building, Mr. Wilson, but feel free to call me Henry." he introduced himself, extending his hand for you to shake.

You gave him an assuring smile and explained that there is nothing to think about the past anymore, that you were looking forward to a neat future and to raise your son peacefully.

"I am sure you will love this apartment. It hasn't really been used that much." Henry spoke as you rid the elevator.

"How so?" you asked, getting curious.

"Oh, you know, most people now are looking for houses on the outskirts of the city. More quiet and away from the chaotic big city lifestyle." He told you, the ding of the elevator announcing your arrival on the floor.

Walking with Will behind Henry down the hallway, you noticed how everything was so quiet, save for an old lady that was wetting her plants by the door. She looked up at you and a terrified look crossed her face as you stopped in front of the door to your apartment.

"What's with the neighbor?" you asked in a quiet whisper, making Henry look at the old woman and you noticed a dark stare into his eyes like he was silently telling her to mind her own business.

"Oh! Dorota is 80 years old and she has been alone for 10 years since her husband died of old age. Don't mind her, she has a habit of starring." Henry explained and ushered you and your son inside, your eyes widening at the scenario.

It was indeed very spacious and modern, not overly filled with furniture, but enough to make it look cozy. The moving crew set the last box on the floor close to the couch, then nodded at you and Henry that they were done.

"So? What do you think? I know pictures aren't that relevant and things aren't the same in reality." Henry began to apologize, but you waved it off.

"No, no! It looks better than I thought and it's very large and I am sure Will is delighted to finally have his own bedroom." you explained and Will's eyes sparkled with joy at the information of having his intimacy.

Henry rubbed his hands together, a big smile on his face, seeing that you and your son were approving of the apartment.

"Sweet! So, it's all settled then?" he asked with a hopeful look into his eyes, and you nodded with a chuckle, seeing Will run through the apartment, gazing at every little detail with curiosity, getting aquatinted with your and his new home.

"That's delightful to hear! I will come back tomorrow so you can sign the contracts and all that paperwork." he explained, walking towards the exit door of the apartment, followed by you close behind.

He turned back towards you, handing you the keys to the apartment with a smile.

"This is now yours... with everything that is inside. Enjoy." he simply said then walked down the hallway of the floor to the elevator, getting inside, the metal doors closing.

After the man disappeared, you moved back inside the apartment, seeing Will gazing out the big full-length wall windows at the city below with excitement.

"Look, Momma! The view is so pretty!" he said with enthusiasm, making you smile and nod, looking at the city with him, happy that you finally started anew after a long time of toxicity, the thoughts of your ex-husband making you shiver and wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt at creating a little protection.

The feeling of someone tugging at the edge of your shirt pulled you out of your thoughts, looking down at Will with a questionable look.

"I'm hungry." he simply stated, and now that he said it, you were pretty hungry yourself. All you have eaten today were some croissants and a cup of coffee.

Nodding, you grasped his hand gently into yours, walking with him to the kitchen, setting him up on the kitchen counter, grateful that you delivered the groceries yesterday here.

"What would you like? Maybe some bacon, sausages, and scrambled eggs?" you asked your son who happily nodded, watching as you started to cook, not before turning the radio on for some music to play into the background.

Everything seemed so perfect, a new home, a new job, you and your son, away from your abusive ex. Everything seemed to fall right into their respective places.

After the food was ready, you served it on two full plates, eating with your son at the table, just listened to music, and having a peaceful earlier dinner. After washing the dishes, you told Will that you will be fondling the clothes and setting them into the closets. Your son nodded, telling you that he will be playing in his room.

While you were arranging your clothes, Will was playing with a remote car in the apartment, running after the toy as he controlled it with the remote in his small hands.

His brows furrowed as the toy car moved out of the apartment on its own; the front door wide open, which was suspicious seeing how you locked it, but the child was more concerned about his precious plaything.

Will was running after the car down the hallways of the last floor, not really paying attention to where he was going until he turned a corner and his gaze fell on a dog at the other end of the hallway. It was a Doberman, gazing back at him, tilting its head to the side, the car stopping at its black paws.

The little boy was ready to take a step forward, when a hand touched his shoulder, making him jump in surprise, turning himself around, and seeing you with a concerned look on your face.

"Sweety... If you want to play outside the apartment, at last, tell me. Don't run off like that." you said, crouching down in front of him, inspecting your son for injuries or bruises, a habit that was born because of your ex-husband.

"Sorry, Mom... I was playing with the car and the dog-" he didn't finish his sentence, because when he pointed to where the canine was, there was no dog at the other end of the hallway.

You sighed and rubbed your forehead.

"If you want a dog, you should have asked...Now that he is no more we can... I mean...." you stumbled over your words, remembering how Will asked one day his father for a dog and your ex just simply slapped his cheek, telling him a straight-up no without so much of an explanation.

Will hugged your legs tightly, gazing up into your eyes with a sad look, knowing what you were thinking.

"Don't be sad.... You know I don't like it when you cry." he whispered and you kissed his forehead, giving him an assuring smile.

"It's alright... Let's just go back. We can watch a movie tonight... Anything you want." you said, turning with him down the hallway and seeing the old lady that you encountered when Henry was presenting you the building.

She gazed at you two with suspicion and a morbid look, her wrinkly, skinny hands trembling. Instinctively, you pulled Will closer to you, the motherly protectiveness coming out.

"It's you... You are staying there.... His place.... He comes.... He is after you." she said in a scratchy raspy voice, making Will hide behind your legs.

Gulping down, you quickly scooped your son into your arms, walking away fast from the old lady, who began to laugh, a sound that made a shiver run down your spine, feeling sick from her words. Running, you quickly entered your apartment with your son into your arms, slamming the door behind you and locking it.

"Momma... What did she mean?" Will asked, his smaller hands clenching your shirt into tiny fists.

"N-Nothing... Don't worry... I won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise." you whispered into his hair, kissing the top of his head, hugging him tightly to your chest, not aware of a pair of golden eyes watching from the dark corners of the apartment.

So far things have been going fine for the following weeks; your working schedule was perfectly put with Will's school program, you left him at school before going to work and picking him up after the working programs, plus it was a bonus you could work extra hours at home.

Will kept telling you about the dog that he kept seeing along the hallways of the building, and you told him that it probably belonged to one of the neighbors.

Now it was weekend which meant you were free; you were currently making some dinner while Will was watching cartoons in the living room, then the doorbell rang, and before you could go and check it yourself, Will beat you to it, only for your eyes to widen when you saw your ex-husband into the doorway, Will obviously taken aback, running to hide behind your legs, the cold stare of the man making your hands tremble at your sides.

"Took me some time to find you. You thought you could get away from me with my son?" he asked, voice gruff and making shivers of disgust run down your spine, although you tried to put on a brave facade, being the overprotective mother.

"We have a restraining order." you told him firmly, wanting for this fiasco to be over, but your ex merely laughed, like you just told him a joke.

"Ya think a piece of paper is gonna keep me away?" he asked, starting to walk towards you.

You quickly told Will to run into his bedroom and lock the door, which the boy was anxious to do, mostly to leave you here with this monster that was supposed to be his father, only the little boy no longer viewed him as such.

The man scoffed, rolling his eyes and stopping in front of you, glaring daggers into your forehead.

"You know... You are starting to piss me off." he grumbled, spitting on your shoes, something he did multiple times, making you swallow the bitter feeling.

"Y-You had your chance... We don't want you... Y-You hurt us." you shuttered out, his dark aura always made you want to run, to hide.

"Please... it was only a slap." he replied.

To be correct there were too many slaps, and not only that, kicks and punches too, not to mention derogatory names that made you feel small and helpless.

Before you could tell him to leave, his hand shot up to grasp your jaw tightly, fingernails digging into the skin of your cheeks, making your eyes water.

"I think I should just get rid of you and get my son back." he whispered, pulling out a switch-blade from his pocket, but before he could use it, a big and black clawed hand shot out from nowhere, talons digging into the shoulder of your ex, making him let you go.

Your eyes widened as did your ex gaze when they landed on a man. No, he was definitely not a man. His height was insane, over 7'0, skin a sickly grey color, spikey jet black hair covering his head, clad in black clothing and his eyes of shining gold and the sclera all black.

Definitely not human.

Your ex stabbed the creature or whatever he was into his shoulder, but the entity didn't even flinch, only gazed where the blade was impaled.

"Who the fuck are you?!" your ex screamed, trying to pry his clawed hands from him.

The creature snarled into his face, black snakes shooting from the sharp-toothed mouth, hissing aggressively, making your ex scream. The scream didn't last long, for the creature ripped his arm straight off like it was nothing, throwing the limb over his shoulder, demonic dogs coming out of his back and chewing on the arm.

Your ex fell to the ground, sounds of agony leaving him, trying to crawl backwards, but the demonic being wasn't done with him, his clawed hands starting to rip him piece by piece, blood following like there was no end, the hellish dogs starting to eat each piece the creature threw at them until your ex simply disappeared.

You couldn't believe what you just witnessed, a choked cry leaving you. In an instant the sound left you pulled on the creature's attention, golden eyes meeting yours.

Before there could be any exchange of words, the sound of your son's voice, pulled your attention.

"Momma... What's happening?" he asked from his bedroom.

Gazing back to the creature, he was gone and any evidence of what happened simply vanished; no blood, no guts, not even a hint that there was any carnage.

Falling to your knees, you finally understood the old lady.

'He is coming.'

#Samuel Grayson #Samuel Grayson x Reader #Demon OC #Poltergeist #original characters #horror

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mikauzoran · 4 years ago

Text

Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Four

Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Four

When Adrien woke up, everything smelled fresh and clean, like fabric softener and laundry detergent.

He was warm and dry, and the bed, the covers, and his pyjamas were all comfortable and soft.

He’d been holding his cat plushie, Chat Noir the Third, when he’d fallen asleep, and C3 was still tucked under Adrien’s arm, fur fuzzy against Adrien’s skin.

It was comforting. In a way, it reminded him of Plagg and how they would sometimes snuggle.

Adrien rolled over onto his back and hugged C3 closer.

Grief and joy mingled in Adrien’s chest as he stared up at the clean, white ceiling.

The morning sun was pouring in through Adrien’s windows in a cheerful, inviting way that Adrien had never experienced in his old room with his old windows.

He was safe. He had a home—a real home this time.

It had been eleven years since he had last had a true home…since he’d lost his mother and the mansion had become silent, cold, and empty.

But now Adrien was home and safe and wanted.

He buried his face in C3’s fur, remembering what Luka had told him the previous day: Luka had bought C3 for Adrien so that he would remember he was loved.

It had been a long time since Adrien was last loved, and the prospect of getting something like that back was overwhelming.

He set C3 aside so that he wouldn’t get him dirty as he cried.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was crying, if it were happiness or sadness or stress, but it felt good to get the emotions out.

When he was done, he sat up, cleaned his face with the tissues on the nightstand, and got out of bed, ready to do his best with the second chance he’d been given.

It felt amazing to get dressed in new, clean clothes with the knowledge that he could throw them in the laundry whenever he felt like it at no charge and that he didn’t have to sleep in them or wear them for multiple days at a time.

It was really nice to have a spacious, private bathroom with a door that locked where he didn’t have to worry about the sanitation.

Well…Luka’s bathroom was currently a mess with toothpaste and shaving cream smudges on the counter and mirror and grooming products left spread out all over the place. Used towels were scattered, crumpled on the floor, and the medicine cabinet was left open.

But Adrien wasn’t necessarily worried, unlike he had been when using other bathrooms where he didn’t even want to think about what kind of germs were growing on surfaces.

Once dressed, Adrien went to Luka’s door and listened for signs that his roommate was awake.

The apartment was still, and Adrien didn’t see any light peeking out from underneath the door, so he assumed that Luka was still sleeping and, instead, made his way to the kitchen.

It was a war zone that had been subsequently ravaged by flood, famine, and pestilence.

It was hard to believe that things could go to ruin in as few as six days, but Adrien was seeing the evidence with his own eyes. Luka was the comparatively neat and tidy Couffaine, but The Breakup had obviously laid him very low indeed.

Dishes were piled high in the sink and crusted with days-old food debris, so Adrien rinsed and scrubbed to the best of his ability before loading them all up in the dishwasher.

Hardly anything in the fridge was worth salvaging.

Adrien got out trash bags from under the sink and started checking dates. He sniffed the items that still resembled food and summarily tossed the ones that were more petri dish than pasta.

He cleared off the counters, sorting the refuse from the misplaced possessions and raided the cabinet below the sink for cleaning supplies.

Once the kitchen was spotless, he expanded his efforts to the living room, picking up the dirty clothes, junk food wrappers, and takeaway containers.

He located the mop, broom, and vacuum cleaner in the coat closet and set about sweeping, reasoning that he would vacuum the rug once Luka was awake so that he didn’t disturb him.

With the living room looking presentable, he gathered up the rubbish, dirty clothes, and items needing to be returned to their respective homes, putting each grouping in their own location to be dealt with later. He then moved on to the bathroom.

By the time he was done tidying and scrubbing, it was midmorning, and he was starting to get kind of hungry. When he’d woken up, he’d still been full from the ridiculous amount of food he’d eaten the day before, but after burning so many calories cleaning, his body was getting ready to eat again.

Luka still hadn’t emerged from his room, so Adrien left a note on the blank page of a sketchbook he had found while cleaning to let Luka know that he hadn’t run away. He was just grocery shopping.

He tore another empty page out of the sketchbook so that he could write up a list of the things he needed from the store.

There was a Monoprix just up the street from the apartment, so it took him less than an hour to walk there, shop, and make it back home again.

He picked up a croissant from the bakery section to snack on as he cooked breakfast but noted that it paled in comparison to what he remembered of those from Tom and Sabine’s.

Adrien was beginning to think that Luka was dead as he plated the food. It was almost noon, and Adrien hadn’t heard a peep.

Luka had looked exhausted the previous day, and he’d mentioned not sleeping well since The Breakup, so maybe he was just catching up on sleep, but Adrien had enough experience with depression to know that it was time to step in and drag his flatmate out of bed.

He knocked on the door, but there was no response.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and discovered it was unlocked.

“Luka, I’m going to be really mad if you’re actually dead,” Adrien grumbled, hesitantly pushing the door open. “Luka?”

Adrien blinked as he got his first glimpse at the inside of Luka’s bedroom.

It was even worse than the rest of the apartment, and that was saying something. Garbage and dirty clothes were strewn everywhere, and the floor was like a minefield of filth.

“Oh, Luka,” Adrien cooed, carefully making his way across the room to the bed. “You’re really hurting, aren’t you?”

Luka snored softly, deaf to Adrien’s sympathy.

“Orpheus.” Adrien kept his voice quiet as he gently shook Luka’s shoulder, not wanting to startle his friend. “Luka? Hey. Wake up.”

Luka drew in a long breath, and his eyes slowly blinked open.

He stared up at Adrien in a daze.

“Angel,” he whispered, reaching out to stroke Adrien’s cheek.

Adrien was torn between enjoying the attention immensely and feeling guilty about it because Luka was obviously still out of it.

“You are not awake,” Adrien chuckled, carefully removing Luka’s palm from his face. “Earth to Luka. Come in, Luka.”

Luka gave a jolt as he blinked and his eyes came into focus. “Oh my gosh. Adrien. Sorry. Hi. What’s wrong? Did you need something?”

“It’s breakfast time. Get up,” Adrien teased, tugging on Luka’s arm lightly.

Luka cursed under his breath. “I am so sorry. Give me just a minute and I’ll go to the grocery store and then make you some breakfast.”

Adrien snorted in laughter. “No need. It is I who have made you breakfast. Come eat before it gets cold.”

Luka blinked at Adrien. “You what?”

“I made omuraisu,” Adrien explained with a pleased smile.

“You what?” Luka repeated, wondering if his ears were failing him.

His Adrien didn’t cook.

“I’m twenty-four,” Adrien enunciated. “I make my own breakfast. Now, get up or I’m seriously climbing in bed with you and pushing you out.”

“…You made breakfast?” Luka echoed in disbelief as he followed Adrien toward the door.

“Yep,” Adrien confirmed with a pop to the p. “I’ve worked in a lot of kitchens these past few years. The chefs taught me some things.”

They stepped out into the living room, and Luka had to do a doubletake. “Faeries came during the night and cleaned the apartment.”

Adrien cracked up. “I mean…it’s not like this is the first time someone’s ever called me a faerie, but…I prefer the term ‘knight in leather armor’.”

Luka gawked at Adrien. “You cleaned the apartment?”

His Adrien wouldn’t know what to do with a broom if his life depended on it…unless he needed to use the broom as a weapon. His Adrien had that covered, but to use a broom for its intended purpose…

Adrien came to a stop in the kitchen, pushing one of the plates of omuraisu towards Luka.

“Surprise,” he announced softly, a sad expression in his eyes that made him look older than Luka had ever remembered. “I’m a functional, responsible adult now too.”

“Yeah,” Luka breathed, looking at Adrien with new eyes. “You went and grew up on me, didn’t you?”

He pulled Adrien into a tight hug, and Adrien squeezed back.

“I had to get it together pretty quickly,” Adrien confessed bitterly. “I cook, clean, do laundry… I even scrub toilets now.”

Luka pulled back, looking mortified. “Please tell me you didn’t clean the bathroom.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Adrien assured.

Luka dropped his forehead to Adrien’s shoulder and let out an animalistic groan. “I am so, so sorry. I swear I was going to clean everything today.”

“I know. I believed you when you kept telling me so last night,” Adrien informed. “It was just that you were completely wiped out, and I saw an opportunity to be helpful.”

Adrien took Luka’s face in his hands and tipped it up to look him in the eye. “This isn’t like before when I’d sneak out and come visit you when I was upset. I may still be a mess, but you’re a wreck too at the moment, and, now, I’m able to help and support you too.”

“Don’t sound so pleased about me being a disaster,” Luka chuckled, horrified and amused all at once.

“I promise I’m not. I’m just glad that I can finally do something for you after all you’ve done for me.” Adrien gave Luka a sincere smile and then stepped back to focus on his food. “Eat your breakfast already.”

Luka sighed, resigning himself to this alternate universe where his Adrien was fully capable of taking care of himself.

“Thank you,” he stressed, digging into the omuraisu. “…Geez, this is good!”

Adrien smirked around his fork. “Told you so.”

“What else can you make?” Luka wondered through a mouthful of rice and egg.

“I specialize in ethnic food,” Adrien preened. “I do desserts passably too, so maybe tomorrow I can make tiramisu and chickpea coconut cashew curry.”

Luka bit his tongue to stop himself from confessing his eternal love to Adrien because it was way too soon after The Breakup to be developing feelings for anyone. Besides, Adrien was vulnerable; Luka would be taking advantage of Adrien’s dependency on him if he made any kind of move.

He never wanted Adrien to feel pressured into anything for fear of winding up back on the street again.

Instead of the declaration of love, Luka smiled gratefully. “I’m really, really glad you came back into my life yesterday.”

Adrien paused, looking taken aback for a moment, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth. “You like curry that much?”

“It’s not just about the curry,” Luka chuckled. “Thank you for all of this.”

“Sure.” Adrien returned the smile with a grin full of pride. “I’m not even done yet. I still have your room to clean.”

“No,” Luka groaned. “I can clean my own room.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m going to help you,” Adrien informed in a tone that told Luka he would not be backing down. “You can tell me what you don’t want me touching, but I can at least help sort the trash from the dirty clothes from the dishes from the stuff that just needs to be put away.”

“I will consider letting you help,” Luka conceded through gritted teeth.

“Perfect!” Adrien chirped cheerily. “…So, I didn’t start any laundry yet because I wasn’t sure what your preferences were, but this evening after we sort through the stuff in your room, you can tell me how you want your laundry done, and I can work on that while you hide your dirty magazines or whatever.”

Luka rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure that Adrien remembered that Luka was demi and didn’t experience sexual attraction unless he had a strong emotional connection with someone and, therefore, had no need for dirty magazines. They’d talked a lot about sexuality when Adrien was sixteen/seventeen and trying to figure things out. Adrien didn’t have trusted adults to talk to, and Luka was actually really honored that Adrien had come to him.

“I will consider letting you help with laundry,” Luka repeated with a shake of his head.

“Great. So…status update,” Adrien prattled right along, leaning his forearms on the counter as he consumed his omuraisu. “I gathered all the trash and piled it up in bags by the door because I didn’t know what the building’s trash collection procedure was.”

“We can take it down to the dumpster on our way out the door to band practice,” Luka replied.

“Cool.” Adrien nodded, taking in the information. “I also piled all the clothing articles in two heaps over by the couch….” He hesitated, biting his bottom lip. “…Not all of the clothes are yours. I can wash them and fold them up in a trash bag so you don’t have to see them, if you’d like.”

Luka winced. “…I don’t know right now. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Adrien rushed to assure. “I’ll just go ahead and do that, and then you can deal with them whenever you’re ready.”

“I really hope there wasn’t anything too embarrassing,” Luka groaned.

Adrien grimaced. “You both have impeccable taste in underwear?”

“I want to die,” Luka replied with an ironic smile.

“It seriously wasn’t a big deal,” Adrien stressed. “…Though, I wasn’t able to determine as easily what was yours as far as possessions go, so I just lined them up neatly against the wall out of the way. I hope that was okay? You don’t have to go through them anytime soon. They can just wait until you’re ready.”

Luka reached out and rested a hand on Adrien’s bicep. “Thank you.”

Adrien placed his hand over Luka’s and smiled. “What are friends for?”

“For times like this,” Luka hummed, feeling blessed.

There was a beat, and then Adrien went back to his status update. “I cleaned out the fridge and went shopping for the essentials, but we’ll need to shop again tonight or tomorrow for the rest of the week. Also, I bought a cheap rice cooker. I hope that’s okay. I had a rice cooker up until a few months ago, and I used to cook all kinds of things in it. I can do a lot with a rice cooker.”

Luka grinned, watching Adrien fondly as he animatedly recounted his rice cooker culinary adventures.

Adrien had slipped so easily into Luka’s life, making himself indispensable in less than twenty-four hours. It left Luka wondering what he’d been doing without Adrien for the past four years.

“Émile!” Josie cried, sprinting across the bar and enveloping Adrien in a fierce hug.

Luka, smiling fondly, stepped around them and went over to get the things he’d left with Jacob the previous day from the bassist. “Glad to know I mean nothing to you, Josie.”

Josie ignored Luka, focusing all of her enthusiasm on Adrien. “Look at you! You clean up nice, Kid! Look at your little baby face! You are the cutest thing. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Josie,” Adrien chuckled, hugging her back with genuine affection.

Luka couldn’t stop grinning because Adrien was adorable. He got attached to people so quickly.

Jacob looked back and forth between Luka and Adrien and quirked an eyebrow quizzically. “You two came together?” he whispered so only Luka would hear.

“He’s actually my roommate now,” Luka confessed, wanting to get this conversation over sooner rather than later.

Jacob’s eyes bugged out. “Dude. You work fast,” he hissed. “You’re already shacked up?”

“No.” Luka winced. “It’s not like that. It’s completely platonic. He just needed a place to stay.”

Jacob nodded, not believing that for a second. “Right.”

“Émile!” Marc greeted, leaving his guitar propped against his keyboard on stage to go give Adrien a hug. “Hey, Kiddo. I did get your text with your phone number. Sorry I didn’t text back. I read it right away, but I was in the middle of burning food, and I completely forgot.”

“No worries,” Adrien assured, returning the hug and absolutely loving it. “So long as you got the message.”

Luka promptly shoved down the little niggling of jealousy that sprouted up at seeing Adrien being affectionate with another guy.

Josie quickly distracted him as she came over and hung off of his shoulder. “You don’t look like crap today.”

“Thank you?” Luka frowned, trying to decide whether to be insulted.

“He said Émile needed a place to stay, so he moved in with him yesterday,” Jacob reported, looking at Josie expectantly.

Josie’s eyes went wide. “Wow. Very opportunist. You get any yet?”

Luka swatted her away. “It’s platonic. I just broke up with The Girl, guys. I am not jumping into anything for a very long time.”

“Are you trying to say that my baby brother isn’t good enough for you to seduce?” Josie snorted, doing a very good job of actually looking offended.

Luka threw his hands up in frustration. “You know, I was having a good day until I had to deal with you two clowns.”

“Émile!” Jacob waved as Adrien and Marc came over to join them. “Sup, Kid?” He opened his arms for a hug which Adrien readily gave.

“Hey, Jacob.” Adrien smiled nervously as he pulled back, reaching up to rub at his neck. “I actually have something I need to tell everyone.”

The band’s expressions suddenly went serious.

“What’s up, Émile?” Josie prompted gently.

Adrien took a deep breath. “That isn’t actually my real name.”

Luka’s eyes widened, and he reached out to rest a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “You sure you’re ready to do this now?”

Adrien nodded. “Yeah. They’ve shown me nothing but kindness. I don’t want to lie to them.”

“Is your real name ‘Adrien’?” Marc inquired.

Everyone looked to him in surprise.

Adrien blinked. “You knew?”

Josie and Jacob turned to Marc with twin frowns.

“How’d you know that?” Jacob demanded.

Marc shook his head. “I wasn’t sure. I just thought you kind of looked like the billboards I used to see all the time.”

“Billboards?” Josie echoed, arching an eyebrow.

“My name is really Adrien,” Adrien confessed. “Adrien Agreste.”

Jacob blinked. “That…sounds familiar?”

“I used to be a model,” Adrien elaborated. “Especially about ten years ago my face was on everything. You couldn’t get away from the advertisements if you tried…. I’m also known more notoriously as Gabriel Agreste’s son,” Adrien informed, gaze directed intently down at his shoes. “You know. Papillon.”

Jacob promptly pushed Luka out of the way and wrapped his arms around Adrien, announcing, “Just so you all know, this is mine now.”

“I don’t think so,” Josie huffed, coming to join the puppy pile. “I saw him first, but if I get caught when I sneak into jail to assassinate his father, you’d sure as hell better take care of him for me.”

She turned to Adrien (who looked very, very confused).

“You’re adopted,” she declared, her voice just on the right side of calm even as it came out clipped and furious. “There’s no way you’re actually related to that slimewad. He akumatized my little sister when she was being bullied, and there is no way you’re related to him. Besides, like I keep saying, we are officially adopting you now.”

Marc reached out a hand to rest on Adrien’s shoulder. “We’re here for you. Promise.”

“People…don’t usually react like that,” Adrien hiccupped. “They usually want nothing to do with me when they find out who I am.”

“People suck,” Jacob reported. “Obviously, they didn’t put much effort into finding out who you really are because, if they had, they would have discovered that you’re a precious baby who deserves to be loved and protected.”

Adrien turned to Luka with a watery smile. “You pick good people.”

Luka grinned. “I picked you, didn’t I?”

The whole group besides Adrien groaned.

Adrien only smiled.

“…So why ‘Émile Dupain’?” Josie inquired as they slowly pulled away.

“‘Émile’ is actually my second name,” Adrien explained. “I was named after my mom.”

Everyone nodded, making cooing, “that’s so sweet” noises.

“‘Dupain’ I stole from a friend,” he confessed with a blush that made Luka narrow his eyes. “It was the most common surname out of all of my friends, so… Plus, it was like taking a little piece of home with me while I roamed around.”

They all cooed again.

“Wait. Hold up.” Jacob turned and pointed to Luka just as the conversation was about to shift. “He’s not surprised about any of this. Did you tell him already yesterday?”

Adrien bit his lip, smiling guiltily. “I’ve known Luka for about a decade now, actually. I didn’t recognize him yesterday until we were outside on the street, though. He still had blue hair when I last saw him.”

“Man, I dated him when he had the blue hair,” Jacob sighed, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t have let him go so easily if I had known the black hair upgrade was coming.”

“Hey,” Luka grumbled. “I looked good with blue hair. It went with my eyes.”

“I actually think the black offsets your eyes better,” Adrien hummed thoughtfully. “The black makes the blue pop. I like it like this.”

Luka’s brain broke. “O-Oh? You think so?”

Marc put a hand over his mouth, holding in a laugh. “He’s never going to dye his hair again.”

Josie opened her mouth to quip, but then she caught the soft, warm, gooey way Luka was looking at Adrien.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Holy crap! He’s Adrien!”

Adrien gave a start, suddenly very worried. “Uh…yes? I thought…that was okay?”

She waved her arms, shooing away his concerns. “No. The thing with your father is fine. I meant that you’re Adrien. Luka’s Adrien!”

Jacob’s jaw dropped. “He’s The Boy!?”

Adrien looked to Luka for reassurance, quite obviously anxious at something he had no way of understanding.

Luka grimaced and wrapped a comforting arm around Adrien’s shoulders. “Yes,” he said pointedly. “He’s the dear friend I’ve mentioned many times to you.”

Jacob scoffed under his breath at that.

Marc decided to stay out of it.

“I really was worried about you while you were away,” Luka explained to Adrien. “I may have been a little preoccupied.”

Slowly, Adrien began to nod, thinking he understood. “Sorry again for worrying you.”

“He survived,” Marc assured, beckoning Adrien over to the stage. “He was a real mess for a while, though.”

Josie hung back, giving Luka a skeptical look. “You moved in with The Boy a week after breaking up with The Girl?”

Luka shrugged helplessly. “It’s platonic.”

“You make questionable life decisions,” Jacob snorted. “You’re screwed.”

“He’s going to wish he were,” Josie sighed. “Does your sister know that you’ve set yourself up for total emotional annihilation by platonically moving in with The Boy a week after your breakup with The Girl?”

“Adrien isn’t ready to tell people he’s back in Paris yet, so don’t you dare say anything to Juleka,” Luka growled protectively, getting his friends’ attention.

They shared a look and then held their hands up in surrender.

“We’re just worried about you, Dude,” Jacob clarified sympathetically.

Luka sighed, all the hot air coming out of him. “I’m kind of worried about me too,” he confessed.

#Lukadrien #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Luka Couffaine #Fluff #Hurt/Comfort #Slow Burn #Friends to Lovers #Flirting #Pining #Mutual Pining #Roommates #Mikau's Writings #Zebras Can't Change Their Stripes

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

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Ready, Willing, Cain and Able

[Wing AU; UK Tour]

my long-awaited part for the art-writing trade i did with @thenicestnonbinary! they requested their Sixtended OC, Anya, and tour!Joan interacting in the wing AU! i hope you like it!

Word count: 2017

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

Anya found her in the dressing room, which didn’t exactly shock her. The music director made that room into her own nest of sorts, barely leaving it for several hours at a time. And you weren’t supposed to intrude on an avian’s nest, but Anya just couldn’t sit by and let the girl work herself to death. Everyone else was already gone, so she had to put on her big bird pants and be the mature hen in the situation.

“Joan?” She called into the room.

The figure at the desk didn’t look up, though one of her big yellow ears did swivel around to her.

“What are you still doing here?” Anya asked as if it wasn’t already obvious.

“Working,” Joan answered, still not looking up.

“It’s getting late.”

“I know.”

“You should go home.”

“No.” Joan ruffled the feathers on her wings. “If I go home now, then I don’t finish my work and the director will get mad.” She touched the side of her head. “Yeah… He’s very annoyed with me.” She then did quite an amazing impression of their burly screech owl director, “‘Joan, I told you to get those mixes done! Our TV premiere is in two weeks! If you can’t get this done, then maybe I should just replace you!’”

Anya almost laughed at the mimic, but then heard the final comment and frowned. Did Joan really think he would say that to her?

Oh, She then realized. Joan was using her future sight.

“I doubt that’ll happen,” Anya said, walking closer.

Joan snorted but didn’t say anything.

Anya peered over her shoulder at the mix she was attempting to write. The text was very neat, which might have been why it was taking so long. She clearly didn’t want anything to be messy. Perhaps it was to prove herself to everyone, that a hybrid could do efficient work as any other tribe could.

It was sad that she had to do that. That some people may not take her seriously just because of the way she looked.

“Well, if you aren’t going to go home,” Anya pulled up a chair beside Joan, “I’ll just keep you company.”

Joan glanced over at her but didn’t argue with her decision. She merely folded her ears down and continued writing.

For a long moment, there was just silence between the two of them. Joan didn’t seem very interested in talking, and Anya didn’t know what to bring up with her.

“Have you eaten yet?”

Joan looked up, slightly surprised. “Oh, umm…” She fumbled, and Anya already had her answer. “Uh. No.”

Anya frowned. “You need to eat.”

Joan shrugged. “Not hungry.”

“I can go get you something,” Anya offered. “You can eat and then go home and rest.”

Joan ruffled her feathers. “No. I’m not sleeping until I finish.” She paused for a moment. “But you can go get food. If you want.”

“What if we go together?” Anya said. “Have you ever hunted before?”

Joan shook her head.

“Come on, then.”

It took some convincing, but Joan eventually peeled herself away from her work and Anya was able to bundle her out of the theater.

Together, the two of them flew to an empty park field with some lamp lights still on. Anya stopped to hover and began scanning the field for any small animals with her enhanced Avem vision, picking up on the faint tracks of a squirrel. At her side, Joan’s claws twitched nervously.

“You can’t eat whatever we catch, you know,” Joan said.

“I do,” Anya glanced at her.

“Then why are you doing this?” Joan looked up at her. “You’re just wasting your time on me…”

“No, I’m not,” Anya said. “I offered, remember? Look, there’s the squirrel. Now, the first thing you want to do is--”

Before she could even get all the words out, Joan shot down from the sky and snatched up the squirrel with her front talons. She flapped back up to Anya, mercilessly snapping the little thing’s neck. Anya blinked at her.

“I thought you said you haven’t hunted before.”

Joan blushed shyly, looking down at her dead prey hanging limply in her hands. “It was just, umm, instincts. I guess.”

The little hybrid flew down to the ground to eat and Anya followed her. However, Joan just stared at the squirrel, something flashing in her grey eyes.

“Joan?” Anya said softly. She opened one wing around the girl. “Is there a reason you haven’t been sleeping?”

Joan was quiet for a long time. She clenched her claws around the squirrel, tearing its flesh on accident. She sniffled softly.

“I-I’m having these dreams,” She whispered. “At first I thought they were just regular nightmares, but then I realized they were visions of the future. And terrible things happen.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I-I’m a monster. An actual monster like in the stories- a WingEater. And everyone is dead. And there’s blood all over my body and I can taste their guts in my mouth and I--” She let out a heartbreaking sob and wrapped her wings around herself.

Anya was taken aback at the confession. She hadn’t been expecting Joan to admit so much to her, especially since they weren’t exactly very close. But now the poor thing was crying in front of her, shaking and gasping and wheezing, and Anya realized with a jolt that she was having an anxiety attack.

“Hey, hey,” Anya unfurled her black kite wings around Joan. The golden speckles across the membrane glittered faintly in the lamplight. “It’s alright. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream.”

“It wasn’t JUST a dream, Anya!” Joan said miserably. “It was a VISION! I told you! It’s a possible future!”

“There are so many possible futures, Joan,” Anya consoled her, stroking her crest feathers in an attempt to comfort her. “You haven’t shown to be murderous at all. It’s probably a very unlikely future at best. Nothing is set in stone.”

Joan scoffed. She shoved Anya off and leaped to her feet, throwing the squirrel to the ground. “Don’t act like you’re so bloodless, either!”

Anya tensed. “What?”

“I’ve seen you,” Joan whispered. Her eyes were wide and wild. “You’ve shown up in my mind before. You do things, too.”

Filled with morbid, horrified curiosity, Anya asked, “What?”

“Revenge,” Joan said. “On Cathy.”

“No.”

“Yes!” Joan’s feathers stood on end. “I’ve seen the blood on your claws. I’ve seen the way you’ve carved out her skin to match the scars upon your own body because you were JEALOUS! I’ve seen visions where you have wished death upon her for not saving you and I’ve seen visions where you regret not giving her name to the men that tore your body apart.” Her tail lashed like a snake on fire, steam wreathing out from her mouth as she screamed. “But I’ve also seen futures where you lay with her in bed and you both fill each other with your love, wings overlapping as you press into each other’s warmth, sheltered from the world and memories of the past. I’ve seen futures where you confess your love to her and she takes you as her mate. I’ve seen futures when you’re both retired and living in a beautiful house that hangs off a cliff with a beach stretched out before the giant windows, two little fledges romping in the sand, a bluebird Avem and a mourning cloak butterfly Cimex, while you and Cathy watch in amusement, only halfheartedly telling the butterfly to stop putting sand in her mouth.” Tears dripped down cheeks, lips quivering, shivers wracking through her wings. “Nothing is set in stone, and there are good futures, but it’s hard to not think about the bad futures when you know what happens now is it?”

Anya was silent, eyes wide, staring at the small hybrid in front of her. She had never seen Joan explode like that before; she honestly didn’t think it was even possible.

But what was worse: the things Joan said. Was there really a possibility that would do all those bad things?

She looked down at her claws and realized they were shaking.

“I--” She looked up and saw the frightened look on Joan’s face. The little hybrid tucked her tail between her legs and took a step back, pulling her wings in close. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me…”

Anya swallowed thickly. “Those--are hard not to think about.” She said. She stood up and slowly approached Joan until she could clasp their talons together. “But it’s the good futures that we should fight for. You said it yourself, there is a possibility for good. There’s a lot of good! We need to focus on that!”

“I can’t,” Joan whimpered. “I-it’s too hard.” She yanked her hands out of Anya’s grasp and squeezed her head between her palms as if she were trying to keep all the bad things from leaking out. “I-it all piles up in my mind and it’s all I can think about and--” She sobbed. “It’s hard! It’s hard!”

“Shh, shh,” Anya wrapped her wings around Joan and pulled her against her chest. “It must be so difficult for you… But you’re so strong, you know? For dealing with all of this.”

Joan sniffled and looked up at her, her grey eyes shining with tears. “I-I am?”

“You are,” Anya swept a lock of hair out of Joan’s face, then wiped some of her tears away. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to do something like that.”

“B-but you went though something a lot worse…” Joan glanced at one of the burn scars peeking out from under the collar of Anya’s shirt.

“Hey, don’t do that.” Anya cupped her face to make her look at her. “Don’t undermine the things you went through. Are still going through.”

Joan sniffled but didn’t say anything. Maybe she couldn’t. Anya bundled her back into her wings and just held her for a long time.

Time passed. The night grew colder. The blood of the squirrel was beginning to dry across the grass. Joan’s sobs slowly tapered off into weak hiccups.

“Feeling better?” Anya asked softly.

“I guess,” Joan whispered, avoiding eye contact. Her eyes looked haunted like she couldn’t stop thinking about the things she had spoken about. She shivered and huddled closer against Anya.

“Why don’t we go back to my apartment?” Anya offered. “You can eat and then rest. If you’re up for it.”

This time, Joan did not resist.

After Joan grabbed the squirrel, Anya led her to her apartment. It was small but clean and cozy. Joan seemed to be a little more comfortable inside.

“Thank you,” Joan whispered. “For this. And for not getting scared when I told you all that…stuff…”

Anya WAS scared, but she didn’t tell Joan that.

“No problem,” Anya smiled warmly at her. “Come on. Sit down and eat. Maybe we can watch a movie afterward?”

Joan nodded.

After Joan ate, which was surprisingly clean for a squirrel getting its throat eaten and drank out of, she and Anya went to Anya’s bedroom and began watching some random movie on Netflix that they agreed on. It wasn’t long before Joan drifted off, probably exhausted from both lack of sleep and her outburst.

Anya watched her while she slept, gently stroking her with one wing. She never expected the hybrid of all people to lay in her bed, but she didn’t mind. As long as Joan was comfortable.

And then Joan’s eyes snapped open. They were blank and glazed over.

Anya blinked down at her. She gently brushed her face.

“Joan?”

“Lighting a candle just to breathe the smoke is a bad, bad thing,” Joan said, and her voice was detached and hollow. It barely even sounded like her at all. “Tread carefully, we walk on hot coals. When you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned.” Her head lolled to the side. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, you’re going to burn with the rest of us.”

#wing au #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fic #uk tour six #tour joan on the keys #anne askew #sixtended verse

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years ago

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across the sea | a bokuaka fanfic (act. I)

inspired by the movie ‘portrait of a lady on fire’ by celine sciamma which is sad and lesbian

pairing: bokuto koutarou x akaashi keiji

word count: 21.8k words

contains: historical setting (actually the setting is vague bec if i tried to describe it more it would take 5 extra pages), heavy angst, slight fluff, greek mythology references, implied smut

summary: when Bokuto accepted a portrait commission for the young, engaged Akaashi Keiji, he never expected him to be so beautiful. he knows it's a mistake to be attached, a mistake for them to fall in love in a time when they know it's impossible for them to be together.

a/n: i’m a sad gay who loves sad lesbian movies and portait of a lady on fire is peak film. a lot of the things here are based on the film so i suggest you check out this beautiful movie, but i added a few tweaks here and there to make it my own.

chapters: act. I, act. II., act. III

“You’re not the first painter to come here,” the ferryman said. Actually, it wasn’t the first time Bokuto had heard that. And now, he was sitting in the middle of tiny, fishing boat, clutching his tattered suitcase and the thin, wooden box where he kept his canvases for dear life. Mostly due to the fact that if his suitcase or canvases found their way overboard, Bokuto would have no choice but to jump after them.

“Is he a terror?” Bokuto asked, deciding to make conversation with the ferryman anyway.

“A terror? No, none of the painters who came back looked scared. Maybe frustrated or lost is the right word,” the ferryman said. “He never leaves the manor but they say that he’s more beautiful than his suitor.”

“I’ve heard that too,” Bokuto muttered as he gazed over the horizon to the shore where the boat was headed. He wasn’t particularly fond of the job he had to take: a portrait commission. Bokuto would much rather work on the commission from the church in his hometown with his master, painting bodies and landscapes were his specialization. On the other hand, Bokuto was not as confident with drawing the human face, specifically, capturing emotion in the eyes. Which were very, very important for a painter hoping to make his own way into the world. And because of that, his master sent him off to the Elysium Estate, a secluded piece of land nestled along the coast of a provincial town owned by the Akaashi family, to paint Akaashi Keiji’s portrait to send to his suitor.

An hour later, the boat had reached the harbor and Bokuto promptly got off, grateful for steady, unshifting land, thanked the ferryman and paid the fee. Then, clutching his suitcase and canvases, he made his way up a rocky trail to where the estate was. Up close, the large house looked dark and gloomy, as if nobody lived there, at all, but it still looked quite grand with its Greek-inspired architecture and marble columns framing the entrance. Standing outside, as if expecting him, was a young man with short, black hair, dressed in a butler’s uniform.

“You must be the painter, Bokuto Koutarou,” he spoke, bowing formally when Bokuto walked up. “I’m Kageyama Tobio, the estate butler. If there is anything you need during your stay here, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks!” Bokuto grinned. “Um, no need to be so formal though. I’m just an apprentice painter.”

“The madam ordered me to treat you as such,” Kageyama said, holding out his hand to take Bokuto’s belongings. Bokuto contemplated it for a while and handed him his suitcase, keeping his canvases closely to himself. Kageyama opened the door to the estate and they walked into a foyer that was dimly lit by a few candles.

“It doesn’t seem like a lot of people stay here, huh?” Bokuto said as he looked around.

“Only the madam and her son are currently living here,” Kageyama explained, taking an oil lamp from the table and walking down a hallway near the grand staircase. “You will be staying in this room for the meantime,” he added, opening the door to a room that was much larger than Bokuto’s master’s studio. Inside was a large, four-poster bed, windows that almost covered the entire far wall, a fireplace, and an easel already set up. When Bokuto glanced at the wall nearest him, he could see a door that probably led into his own bathroom.

“Wow, this is… a nice room,” Bokuto said, unable to find the words to say.

“The madam and young master Keiji have retired for the evening but he has agreed to meet you for breakfast in the dining hall,” Kageyama said, leaving the suitcase on top of the chest at the foot of Bokuto’s bed. “Would you like me to bring up some supper?”

“Yes please,” Bokuto smiled politely and Kageyama left him in the dark, grand room. Bokuto took the time to start a fire to light up the room. Then, he unloaded his canvases. The wooden box that was custom-made for it was nailed shut and Bokuto pried it open with a small tool stashed in his suitcase. To his relief, the canvases were both as pristine and white as when he first packed them. Bokuto lovingly ran his finger across the surface, already eager to break out his paints and start the commission. Just for the sake of being able to paint again.

After a warm meal of bread and soup, Bokuto lay on the soft bed of his room and fell asleep.

The next morning, he was woken up by Kageyama knocking on the door. Remembering that he would be meeting Akaashi for the first time, Bokuto quickly washed his face and dressed into his best pair of trousers and a clean shirt before hurrying to the dining room. The room was half the size of the manor’s living room, but better lit with tall windows that reached the ceiling. The long table was set for two and already sitting there, was Akaashi Keiji.

The rumors about his beauty were true: with his tanned skin, hair the color of chocolate that fell in short waves around his face, his graceful facial features, and eyes the color of deep emerald that followed Bokuto as he walked to his seat. Under the table, he felt his hands itch for a piece of charcoal and paper.

“U-um, Bokuto Koutarou,” he stammered, remembering that he had to introduce himself. “Pleased to meet you… um, sir.”

“There’s no need for that,” Akaashi waved his hand. His voice was soft but he spoke and enunciated every syllable. “So, my mother sent you to become a companion before I’m carted off to Italy to get married. Hopefully, I get to enjoy some kind of freedom before that happens.” He paused and fixed his gaze on Bokuto. “What do you think about all this?”

“Well, your mother seems concerned about you and your health—”

“You don’t have to talk as if she’s here,” Akaashi interrupted him. “She’s the one who’s paying you, not me. Tell me what you really think.” Bokuto blinked at the interruption and one look at Akaashi told him that he would detect any lie. So, Bokuto decided to tell the truth, or as much as he could without spilling the fact that he was painting his portrait in secret.

“When I entered the workforce to get a job, I never thought I’d have to be hired to be a personal companion,” Bokuto chuckled. “But it beats working in a factory. About your situation however, I think it’s a bit sad.”

“Sad? Do you pity me?” Akaashi’s expression was neutral.

“In a way, I do. It must be lonely having to stay here. Maybe your mother hired me so you’d have someone to talk to. In a way, I guess I am perfect for job,” Bokuto grinned. “People say I’m talkative enough to hold a conversation for two.” Akaashi looked down at his plate, as if thinking over what Bokuto said, and then looked out the window.

“I want to go down to the beach today,” he said, Bokuto silently let out a sigh of relief. He had passed whatever test Akaashi had set up. “Accompany me after breakfast.”

“Yes sir,” Bokuto nodded. In front of him, he saw the corner of Akaashi’s lip turn up.

“I’m younger than you. You may call me Akaashi.”

An hour later, Bokuto made his way down the beach with Akaashi behind him, wearing a dark green scarf around his chin and a jacket over his shirt. Bokuto couldn’t help but notice how Akaashi looked at the beach as if it was the first time he was there, and perhaps it was his first time at the beach. Judging by how thin his frame was and his breathing that was almost labored while he walked down the beach, Bokuto could easily tell how sickly he was. Bokuto considered sitting on the sand with Akaashi, but another part of him wanted Akaashi to experience much more. As soon as they reached the beach, Bokuto kicked off his shoes and socks and walked over to wade in the sea.

“Come on,” he smiled and raised a hand encouragingly at Akaashi who eyed him curiously before taking off his shoes and socks, as well as his jacket and left them in a neat pile beside Bokuto’s things. He dipped his feet hesitantly in the water, before walking forward and joining Bokuto.

“Thanks to you, my mother allowed me to finally come down here,” Akaashi said, squinting at the horizon. “We came to live at the estate because the doctors said the sea breeze might do me good, but they kept me locked inside.”

“What do you do to pass the time?” Bokuto asked.

“Read, mostly. Actually, all the time,” Akaashi answered. “Even if I wasn’t allowed to go out, my father consistently sent me books and tutors so at least my learning was up to standard. My mother joins me in the library sometimes to work on her embroidery.” He looked sideways at Bokuto. “I know a lot of things, like the deepest parts of the sea we’re standing in, the trade routes that cross it, but I’ve never been in it.”

“Well, if it’s any comfort, yesterday was the first time I’ve been to sea,” Bokuto admitted. “I never thought waves could rock a boat so much. I was sick to my stomach and I almost threw up over the side of the boat.” Akaashi smiled wryly.

“Did you?”

“No,” Bokuto chuckled. “The sea was a wonderful blue, I couldn’t bear to throw up in it.”

“That’s good,” Akaashi nodded. “I’ve always wondered about how salty the sea is.” Bokuto raised his eyebrows, bent down, and cupped some water in his hands.

“Want to try it for yourself?”

“As long as you don’t tell my mother,” Akaashi snorted. He cupped his hands down under Bokuto’s and bent down, raising their hands. Bokuto felt Akaashi’s lips kiss the tips of his fingers as he sipped the saltwater. Akaashi raised his head, making a face that was half-grimace, half-look of curiosity, and spat the saltwater back into the sea. Bokuto laughed.

“How was it?”

“The saltiest thing I ever tasted,” Akaashi said. “Even saltier than bacon. But now I know how salty sea is.”

They spent the next few hours at the beach, even taking their lunch there after Kageyama delivered it in a picnic basket. Bokuto took the time to watch Akaashi as he picked up rocks and shells to inspect before returning them where he found them, attempting to memorize his unwilling client’s face. In his head, Bokuto pictured Akaashi in a fancy, green dress jacket that matched the color of his eyes, sitting with his hands folded over each other and perhaps a book on his lap. He kept that image in mind when he asked Akaashi if they could head inside. The madam, whom Bokuto was to meet the next day, called Akaashi to the library giving time for Bokuto to begin sketching drafts of the portrait.

He took his time, drawing different parts of Akaashi at first: his hands, his hair, his side profile and ears, his nose and mouth, and lastly, his eyes. Bokuto had to soap the charcoal off his fingers before joining Akaashi at supper, this time making less conversation to observe the details of his face. When he was alone in his room again, Bokuto laid the sketches out before him near the fireplace and made an attempt to draw Akaashi’s eyes again, only to give up on lie on the floor, trying to remember how the candlelight at dinnertime accentuated the planes of his face and the faraway look in Akaashi’s eyes that seemed to lead out to sea.

…

The next day, Bokuto sat in front of Akaashi Keiji’s mother, or Mikoto, as she preferred that he would address her, in the manor’s library upstairs. Out of all the rooms Bokuto had visited in the giant house, this one seemed to be the most visited by the madam and her son. Like the dining room, it had large windows that lit the entire room. The wooden floor was polished and books that have left their shelves to rest in stacks around the room showed signs of it being frequented, most likely by Akaashi himself. Other than that, there was something about the entire room that felt comforting and warm.

“So, you’ve met my son,” Mikoto said, sipping from her teacup. She looked a lot like her son: same brown hair, green eyes, and sharp features. His master told him that she had one lame leg, thanks to being infected by polio years ago, which prevented her from going around frequently. “How did you find him?” she asked, fixing him with her gaze.

“He’s, well, quite reserved,” Bokuto answered. “Yesterday when we had breakfast, I feel as if he was testing me,” he added with a nervous chuckle.

“Ah, Keiji tends to do that,” Mikoto smiled ruefully. “We used to live near a city when he was younger. But, because of his health, my husband decided to move us here for the sea air. That did Keiji’s health better but unfortunately, he’s had very little encounter with the outside world. When we told him about the marriage arrangement, he’s grown distant from me.”

“Is that the reason why nobody has ever successfully painted his portrait?” Bokuto asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Mikoto nodded. “Keiji’s strong-willed and scheming, despite everything. He knows that we need the marriage for our lands and wealth to continue remaining under our family name. He doesn’t directly transgress the marriage, but he makes it difficult for it to continue.”

“He’s probably prolonging it,” Bokuto said, suddenly feeling sad for Akaashi. Even though he was better off with a wealthy family compared to Bokuto who was taken in by his master after his parents died, Akaashi had very little freedom. And now, a marriage.

“Probably,” Mikoto set her cup down and looked at the portrait of her that hung over the fireplace. “Which is why we need you, Bokuto-san. Your master played a hand in helping seal my marriage by painting this portrait. He did well. And now, you must do the same.” Bokuto gulped. “Your master spoke very highly of you. Have you started on the portrait?”

“Yes,” Bokuto nodded. Early that morning, he had sketched a rough layout of Akaashi on one of his canvases. Without Akaashi there to pose, it took a great deal for Bokuto to visualize his position. But he wasn’t his master’s student for nothing. Bokuto was confident that he could paint Akaashi’s likeness.

“Well, I mustn’t keep you then,” Mikoto said. “Call Akaashi to come here. I’ll let you have a few hours to paint.”

“Thank you, Mikoto-san,” Bokuto bowed before leaving the library, closing the double doors behind him. He walked down the great stairs of the manor and was about to head into his room when he ran into Akaashi heading his way. “Akaashi,” Bokuto grinned, trying to make it seem as if he hadn’t just discussed Akaashi’s marriage with his mother just a while ago. “I was just about to look for you.”

“Well, you found me,” Akaashi said. He was wearing trousers, a light blue shirt, and a beige jacket.

“Your mother requests that you join her in the library,” Bokuto said. Akaashi made a face.

“I don’t feel like reading, I’d rather go outside,” he said. “Would you come join me at the beach again? It should be at low tide when we are there.”

“I-I would, but…” Bokuto stammered.

“Is there anything you’re preoccupied with?” Akaashi asked, stepping closer to Bokuto. His green eyes bored into his, searching for an answer. Bokuto relented.

“Of course not,” he shook his head and smiled. “Going to the beach sounds great.” Bokuto groaned internally, thinking about how fast he’d have to paint before sunset. And then, Akaashi smiled, excitement shining in his eyes.

“Let’s go then, Bokuto-san.” And somehow, it was all alright. The two of them made their way to the beach, walking side by side. Akaashi had the same scarf he wore yesterday tied around his chin. Bokuto walked in front of Akaashi when they made their way down the trail along the rocky side of the cliff. Every so often, Bokuto felt the urge to turn around to check how Akaashi was doing, and to memorize the look of his hands as they gripped the side of the cliff, the concentration in his furrowed brow, how his green scarf billowed behind him in the wind. As they neared the bottom of the cliff, Bokuto suddenly heard the sound of rocks falling and Akaashi crying in surprise.

“Bokuto-san!”

Quick as a flash, Bokuto turned around to catch Akaashi in his arms, holding a hand out to steady himself against the cliff with the other wrapped around Akaashi’s waist. Up close, Bokuto could smell the sea breeze already caught in Akaashi’s clothes as well as the slightest whiff of vanilla. For a moment, he wondered if he could catch that scent in the portrait he was going to paint.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Bokuto said. Akaashi stepped back, steadying himself against the rocky cliff wall. His one hand lingered on Bokuto’s shoulder before using it to pull down the scarf tied around his chin.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he spoke. Without thinking, Bokuto held out a hand to him. Akaashi accepted and the two walked hand-in-hand to the beach.

Bokuto soon found out why Akaashi was excited to go down to the beach at this time. After leaving his scarf, jacket, shoes, and socks in a neat pile again on the sand, Akaashi waded out to sea and bent down in search of hermit crabs and other creatures in the tide pools. Bokuto waded with him for a while before sitting near a large rock and taking out a piece of paper folded around a small piece of drawing charcoal. He decided to focus on drawing Akaashi’s hands, folded over each other, before finding his own hand moving by itself and drawing Akaashi’s eyes, his nose, the scarf tied around his chin that covered his mouth. ‘Stupid,’ Bokuto shook his head, realizing that he didn’t need to sketch the scarf for the portrait. He folded the sketch and stuffed it in his shirt pocket, rubbing the charcoal of his fingers on his pants as Akaashi jogged towards him with something cupped in his hands.

“Bokuto-san,” he stopped, holding out his hands to Bokuto to show a hermit crab scuttling in it. Bokuto let out a chuckle.

“I see you’ve found a friend,” he reached out a finger to gently stroke the crab’s shell. Akaashi had a small smile on his face. “Thinking of bringing it home?”

“No,” Akaashi shook his head. “I read that they easily get depressed when they’re alone. And I don’t think he would want to live in a sink. I just wanted to hold one in my hands.”

“Like when you held seawater yesterday,” Bokuto said, smiling at the memory. “But I’d advice against tasting this one.” Akaashi looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Very funny, Bokuto-san,” he said dryly. Bokuto snickered. Akaashi bent down and released the hermit crab into the sand.

“Let’s head back, I’m good for today,” Akaashi said, walking back to where his things were. “I know you still have some things to work on.”

“I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Akaashi held out a hand. “It was… rude of me to try to invade your privacy. I apologize. It’s just…” Akaashi pursed his lips and looked down.

“I get it. Kageyama isn’t the most talkative person around,” Bokuto grinned, sidling up next to him. “And I was hired to be your companion.”

“I don’t want you to think about it like that,” Akaashi said. “I know it’s not normal. It’s kind of sad that my mother would have to hire someone to be my friend here. So, can we both pretend that your salary doesn’t come from a fake friendship?”

“Well…” Bokuto shrugged. “If we’re going to that, want to add to the pretending?”

“How do you suppose we do that?” Akaashi looked at him curiously.

“If we’re going to be pretend friends, how did our ‘friendship’ begin?” Bokuto asked. “Maybe I was a boy from the nearby village who wandered here, wanting to see the Elysium Estate for myself. All the other kids say it’s an abandoned manor, a haunted one specifically. But I, a brave soul, decided to check it out.” Akaashi smiled and sat down on the sand to put on his socks and shoes.

“On that day, my mother let me read outside, just near the house of course. While reading my book, I couldn’t help but notice a noise coming from behind the house,” he continued.

“It was me, pelting pebbles at one of the windows,” Bokuto laughed, fully engaged in their imagining.

“Lucky for you, my mother was asleep and I happened to appear before you first.”

“I probably screamed like a girl in terror thinking you were a ghost.”

“And then I had to calm you down. And then tell you that there were in fact people living here.”

“And then I sense how lonely you are and invite you to play.”

“And then we play tag all morning and chase each other on the beach,” Akaashi smiled, eyes scanning the horizon again. “That’s a nice backstory. Though, it’s just a story.”

“It’s a good story,” Bokuto held out a hand and helped Akaashi to his feet. Both of them reached the manor a good three hours before the sun set, leaving Bokuto with enough time to begin mixing his paints to begin the portrait. It was probably his favorite part of painting, creating the colors to imprint a real picture on canvas. He mixed some red and white into a warm shade of brown for Akaashi’s skin, darkening the shade for his hair. Bokuto touched his brush to his paints and filled in his sketch. Then, he mixed in white and a darker brown for the highlights and contours. Next, he worked on Akaashi’s suit: dark green jacket and crisp white shirt. Clothing was harder to work on without a model but Bokuto tried to imagine where the creases and folds would be placed and ran his brush over them.

Now that he had begun, Bokuto didn’t want to stop painting, even after dinner when he had to light five candles and place them around his workstation. Eventually, the change in lighting got to him and Bokuto knew he couldn’t continue working like this. He packed away his paints, brushes, and palette, folded up his easel, and moved them to the extra storeroom connected to his bedroom. Then, he gently lifted the canvas, careful not to touch it, and placed it gently in the closet. Lastly, Bokuto blew out all the candles, taking the last one with him to take one last look at his painting before going to sleep. When he squinted, with the candle in front of him, the portrait looked as if it was on fire.

…

The next few days were like so: Bokuto would accompany Akaashi for walks on the beach or around the fields bordering the estate and the village over. Many times, Bokuto would have to rush his time to work on Akaashi’s portrait before sunset fell. In the mornings, he’d wake up early to check on errors he might have made in the dim light. Most of them were errors in shading, a color not mixed right, but there was little to fix. Before he knew it, Bokuto was almost finished with the portrait.

At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel guilty having to paint this portrait behind Akaashi’s back, knowing all the effort he put into preventing his arranged marriage as best as he could. Even seeing the excited look on Akaashi’s face, which lifted Bokuto’s spirits momentarily, had the bitter aftertaste of knowing that this excitement would all be ruined once Bokuto had to tell him about his circumstances for being at the manor. So, he spent a bit more time with Akaashi, hoping that he didn’t have to finish the portrait so early. That was until Akaashi.

“He’ll likely be in bed all day,” Mikoto said, telling Bokuto the news over breakfast when he asked why Akaashi wasn’t there. “That should give you enough time to finish the portrait by tomorrow, right?” she looked up at him over her breakfast. Bokuto swallowed.

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded. For once, he wasn’t excited to get back to finishing a painting.

“Good. Keiji’s father has called for me to meet him in Kyushu. I set out to leave tomorrow after breakfast. If you like, I could be the one to tell Keiji about your… background,” she said, spreading butter on a slice of bread. He could tell that she was relieved, probably, knowing that she’d be rid of her sickly son. ‘No, that’s not it,’ Bokuto mentally shook his head, reminding himself that Akaashi Mikoto was simply doing her job as a mother and as someone concerned about the wealth of her family. She wasn’t a bad woman, Bokuto just somehow bitterly considered her as one.

“It’s alright, Mikoto-san,” Bokuto shook his head. “I’ll tell him myself.”

Mikoto smiled at him. Immediately, she looked years younger, just like the woman in the portrait that hung in the library. “Thank you, Bokuto-san. I trust that it hasn’t been easy, having to paint a portrait of my son without having him pose. I have no doubt that the portrait will be lovely, but I’m not looking forward to seeing the look on Keiji’s face after realizing what I’ve done.”

“Neither am I,” Bokuto smiled ruefully. “Forgive me for this but, I believe I’ve come to see him as a friend these past few weeks.”

“I know he sees you as one too,” Mikoto nodded, looking out the window. “I forbade him from going to the beach for years, fearing that something would happen to him. I couldn’t accompany him and Kageyama’s the only household staff who manages the property. These days, you can tell how excited he is in the morning. He doesn’t say it but you can see it in his eyes.”

Bokuto smiled wistfully. In his portrait, he tried to capture the small smile that would come up on Akaashi’s face whenever he was excitedly wading in the beach or showing Bokuto something new. But as successful as he was in picturing it, it didn’t translate in the portrait. The Akaashi Keiji there had a stern expression on his face, his eyes staring blankly. It was still a good portrait, but Bokuto knew that something was lacking.

After breakfast, he spent more than an hour adding the finishing touches on the portrait and looking at it from afar. He was finished with the portrait, but he didn’t want to tell Mikoto or her son yet. Instead, Bokuto ventured off into the kitchens where Kageyama was busy preparing lunch. With going to the beach with Akaashi and being locked in his room working on the portrait, Bokuto saw very little of Kageyama. Knowing that he’ll be leaving soon after giving the portrait to Mikoto, Bokuto felt that he should have at least one conversation with the butler.

“Bokuto-san,” Kageyama looked up from the pot he was stirring on the stove. “Is there anything you need?”

“Just water,” Bokuto said. “It’s alright, I can get some myself.” Kageyama nodded and Bokuto filled his cup at the tap near the stove before sitting at the long wooden table inside the kitchen. There was a bowl of potatoes, a chopping board, and a knife on the table. “Do these need peeling?” Bokuto asked, picking one up and, without waiting for an answer, picked up the knife.

“Please don’t trouble yourself with that, Bokuto-san,” Kageyama said hurriedly. “You still have the young master’s portrait to finish.”

“It’s already finished,” Bokuto smiled up at him. “And believe it or not, squinting at a canvas with a brush full of paint gets tiring after a while. I’m a pretty good assistant in the kitchen as well,” he said, peeling the potato. “But I’m a terrible cook.” A small smile flitted across Kageyama’s face. He sat at the table in front of Bokuto and cubed the peeled potatoes.

“How long have you worked here?” Bokuto asked, hoping to initiate conversation.

“A good five years,” Kageyama answered. “The previous butler was a good friend of mine but he decided to work in a much livelier household.” Bokuto quirked his lips slightly.

“And you don’t mind having a less-lively household?”

“It’s quite ideal, actually. I only have two people to wait upon. Both of them don’t require much, except for when the young master falls ill. The pay is good and the room and board is free,” Kageyama answered. “And the beach is just outside for me to visit.”

“It makes me sad knowing that Akaashi hasn’t visited the beach at least once before I came,” Bokuto said.

“Yes,” Kageyama nodded, pausing with his work to look up at Bokuto. “He’s… a lonely man. I’ve kept wondering again and again if maybe I could have tried to befriend him but… that would be imposing of me.”

“Akaashi probably wouldn’t mind,” Bokuto said. Kageyama blinked at him in surprise before smiling.

“Seeing how lively he is now with you as company, I agree.” Again, Bokuto felt regret in the back of his throat.

“Do you… do you think he’ll hate me after I tell him that I’m painting his portrait?” Bokuto asked. Kageyama pursed his lips.

“I don’t know the answer to that. But I have a feeling he will be disappointed,” he said, scooping up the cubed potatoes and adding them into the pot on the stove. “Lunch will be ready in half an hour. Would you like me to take it to your room?”

“No need,” Bokuto shook his head and then, an idea popped into his head. “I could take Akaashi’s lunch to his room.”

“Bokuto-san, you don’t need to—”

“Trouble myself, I know,” Bokuto nodded. “But I’m finished with the portrait and there’s nothing else for me to do. Also…” he sighed. “I know it’s pretty useless but maybe I could make amends with Akaashi this way?”

“He would appreciate it,” Kageyama said.

Bokuto carefully carried the tray of Akaashi’s lunch: soup with chicken and potatoes, and a roll of bread, upstairs to his room. It just occurred to him that he had never been to Akaashi’s room before and seldom even went to the second floor. Bokuto paused in front of it before knocking once, twice, thrice.

“Akaashi?” he spoke. “I, uh, brought—”

“Come in.”

Bokuto opened the door. He didn’t know what to expect when it came to Akaashi’s room but once he was inside, the whole space undeniably felt as if it belonged to Akaashi. The number of books in his bedroom was probably a quarter of what was in the manor’s library. Bokuto felt himself smile, knowing he found the source of the gaps in the bookshelves. The curtains on the window were drawn back, letting in a good amount of light. There was a small table pushed near the window and on it was a vase full of wildflowers. Bokuto recognized them as the ones that Akaashi had picked in the fields the other day. The owner of the room himself was sitting up in bed, wearing a maroon robe, with a book on his lap.

“I brought your lunch,” Bokuto said, lifting up the tray.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said, his voice sounded hoarse and weak. Bokuto set down the tray at his nightstand and sat down on the chair near his bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” Akaashi shrugged, there was a gleam in his eyes that betrayed the fact that he was teasing Bokuto.

“Care to elaborate?” he chuckled.

“I think it’s the usual flu,” Akaashi sighed. “Aches, fever, all that good stuff. Nothing new.”

“Well, you better eat to maintain your strength,” Bokuto said, gesturing to the tray. Akaashi smiled wryly and lifted it to his lap. While he ate, Bokuto looked over at the books on his nightstand. Most of them were books on philosophy and political science. Except for one with a deep, burgundy jacket and a well-worn spine. “Greek Myths and Legends,” Bokuto read aloud.

“It’s my favorite book from my collection,” Akaashi said, sipping some broth from his spoon. “My father had gifted it to me personally before we left our previous estate.”

“I didn’t take you for a fan of legends,” Bokuto said.

“They’re the best things to read,” Akaashi cocked his head. “They’ve been around longer than any scientific theory or philosophy. The very beginnings of how men and women attempted to make sense of a world they didn’t understand yet.”

“When you put it that way…” Bokuto reached out a hand. “May I?” Akaashi nodded his permission and Bokuto carefully extracted the book from the pile and thumbed through the pages. He could tell that the book was worth quite a lot. From the thick, cream-colored pages, the title that was written in perfect calligraphy, to the colored, watercolor illustrations. The fact that this book wasn’t behind a display case, well-worn from reading and placed on a nightstand said a lot about Akaashi. Bokuto flipped to a random page. “The Myth of Prometheus,” he read aloud. In front of him, Akaashi smiled and leaned back in his bed.

“’There lived a titan named Prometheus, the supreme trickster and the god of fire,’” he recited out loud. ‘Of course he remembers it word by word,’ Bokuto thought, smiling to himself as he continued where Akaashi left off.

“’He was tasked by Zeus to form man from earth and water, and he did so. But Prometheus, the titan, grew fond of his creation…’” And so, Bokuto continued reading, not stopping until he reached the end of the myth when Prometheus was sentenced to his punishment of being chained to a rock while an eagle feasted on smalleaccompanying illustration of Prometheus’s punishment.

“Zeus always was the most bloodthirsty of the three major gods,” Akaashi chuckled dryly. “It’s a good story. While it is meant to be a cautionary tale about what happens when you defy the orders of a god, it does bring to light the need for situations wherein such transgressions are necessary.” He paused and turned to look at Bokuto. “What do you think about it, Bokuto-san?”

“Well, I always thought it was about…love?” he said uncertainly. In all honesty, the only time he ever encountered the myth was when his master retold it to him. Greek myths were always the subject of many painting commissions so Bokuto was trained to be familiar with them. The hard part when it came to painting them was adding that slight variation, the artist’s interpretation of the myth.

“Love?” Akaashi echoed. “You seem to be quite the romantic, Bokuto-san.”

“I-I mean,” Bokuto stammered, thinking of a good reason. “Prometheus was in that whole predicament because he loved his own creation too much, right? And it’s almost impossible to love something you created.” It was true, he knew that much, especially among painters. Sometimes that love gets to the point that it was impossible for him to find imperfections in his work, or even fathom being separated from the painting. In the end, most of the paintings Bokuto loved would end up in the hands of the people who paid for it. “It would be cruel of him to deny his own creations that fire, and Prometheus knew the consequences for it. I bet even after being chained to that rock, he would still make that same decision again if he could.” When he finished, he found Akaashi looking at him with an amused expression on his face.

“You’re quire right,” he said. “It’s an interesting take on the myth. I never would have thought of it but then again, I’m not a creator.” The look on Akaashi’s face seemed to lay bare Bokuto’s secrets.

“D-do you have any other favorite myths?” Bokuto asked, hoping to change the subject. “I could read a couple more for you if you like.” Akaashi placed his tray back on the nightstand and folded his hands over his lap.

“That would be nice Bokuto-san. Could you turn to page three-hundred and twenty?”

“’The Twelve Labors of Heracles,”’ Bokuto read aloud.

“It’s a long one. Are you up for it?” a corner of Akaashi’s mouth was turned up in a smile.

“Of course I am,” Bokuto returned the smile. He’s never been much of a reader, especially after being taught by the older painters at his master’s studio and even then, he had been slow when it came reading and writing. At first, Bokuto winced as he stumbled over some of the words but Akaashi kindly helped him through it and didn’t seem to mind. He was quite good at making up voices for characters like Pan, the satyr or Medusa that cracked a smile on Akaashi’s face. Before he knew it, it was already dinnertime when Kageyama brought up their food. Mikoto came in once to take Akaashi’s temperature and before leaving the room, she made eye contact with Bokuto who hgave the most imperceptible of nods. ‘Yes, the painting is done,’ it meant, and Bokuto was back to contemplating how to break the news to Akaashi.

“Something the matter, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked. They were both still eating dinner at the table near his bedroom window. Akaashi looked visibly better than he looked earlier.

“I…” Bokuto swallowed and felt his hand curl into a fist on his lap. “Akaashi… I-I haven’t exactly been truthful to you.” Silence fell, Akaashi stopped what he was doing and looked at Bokuto, waiting patiently for him to finish. It only made Bokuto even more nervous. “You see, I’m actually—”

“Another painter that my mother hired,” Akaashi interrupted him. Bokuto’s eyes went wide.

“You… you knew?”

Akaashi pursed his lips and reached for Bokuto’s hand, the one that was still on the table. His hand was smaller and more delicate against Bokuto’s hands, his touch feather-light. “As much as you scrub your hands, you can’t quite erase all of the charcoal and paint stains completely, nor the smell of turpentine.”

“Ahaha, I should have been more careful then,” Bokuto laughed nervously and stopped when he saw the expression on Akaashi’s face: it was the picture of melancholy, and Bokuto felt his heart ache. Did he still choose the befriend him even after knowing his intentions? “I… I’m sorry,” he apologized softly.

“Why are you apologizing?” Akaashi looked up to meet his eyes.

“You didn’t need to be so civil around me since you knew what my intentions were,” Bokuto said. “Your mother told me that you constantly evaded the other painters’ and refused to pose for them to delay your wedding.”

“That is true,” Akaashi nodded, taking his hand back. Bokuto’s hand quickly felt the loss of warmth. “But shouldn’t I say the same for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t have to befriend me either. All you had to do was to paint my portrait in secret. You could have quickly denied my requests to go to the beach or ask my mother to keep me occupied for as long as you wanted.” The candlestick on their table was their only light source in the room and it illuminated Akaashi’s features so clearly and Bokuto felt every word he said. “Or is it, you just did those so I would trust you and for your cover not to be blown.”

“I…” Bokuto could hardly find the words. It was just like the first time they met, when they talked over breakfast before going to the beach. Except, Bokuto knew there was something at stake, only he didn’t know precisely what that was. Akaashi Keiji was just another one of his clients. Bokuto’s job would be finished tomorrow and he would go back to his studio with his money and he would wait for his next commission and in a few years, he wouldn’t even remember Akaashi Keiji among the other paintings he would make.

And so, he decided on his reply.

“Yes. You’re right.” He steeled himself for the look of hurt on Akaashi’s face, maybe a few things he would shout. ‘Those are momentary. I would forget about them later on,’ he thought. Instead, Akaashi leaned back in his seat and turned his head to the window.

“I see,” was all he said. And for some reason, that was worse.

“Akaashi—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Akaashi cut him off, he was still looking out the window. “You may retire to your rooms now, Bokuto-san. You’ll have to travel home tomorrow.”

Bokuto swallowed hard and stood up, murmuring a ‘good night’ before leaving Akaashi’s room, running down the stairs, and entering his own room. He was out of breath and livid. ‘Why am I letting that get to me?’ he thought. With every breath he inhaled, an image of Akaashi came to mind. The intense look on his face when he was trying to figure out of Bokuto was lying. The pure excitement at seeing the beach. The hesitance giving way to confidence as he waded into the water. The pucker of his lips when he tasted the sea. The pure concentration as he hunted for hermit crabs. The movement of his lips when he said Bokuto’s name.

Without even realizing it, Bokuto found himself standing in front of Akaashi’s portrait. ‘Painters have an instinct,’ he remembered his master telling him when Bokuto made his first oil painting of a landscape. ‘A lot of us can tell when something is wrong with what we’ve painted. Not when it comes to the technical skills like light or shading. But it pertains to whether we’ve successfully captured a scene that’s alive, and all scenes are, on canvas.’ With his instinct, Bokuto could instantly tell that the portrait he painted of a man with a stiff expression on his face and no light behind his eyes, was not Akaashi.

Bokuto picked up his turpentine-soaked rag that he used to clean his brushed and held it over the face in the portrait. With one swift motion, he swiped it off.

…

He barely slept that night, knowing for sure that he was going to lose his job the next morning. He was going to be one of those painters who had left the estate empty-handed and frustrated, after getting so close. Yet try as he might, Bokuto knew that he didn’t regret destroying the portrait. So maybe, he could return with his head held high.

After stealing a few hours of sleep, Bokuto woke up to wash himself as best as he could and change into a clean shirt. He did all of this without looking at the portrait. Kageyama called him for breakfast and Bokuto steeled himself to face Mikoto and Akaashi. She attempted to make conversation over breakfast and yet he’d nod once in a while and pick at his breakfast, choosing not to acknowledge Bokuto who felt a deep ache in his chest.

Finally, it was time to unveil the portrait. Bokuto knew that he could simply tell Mikoto that he chose to change it in the last minute but on the other hand, he wanted Akaashi to see what he had done. So, he covered the portrait with a cloth and met them in the library to unveil the finished product.

“Bokuto Koutarou!” Mikoto exclaimed indignantly. She was clearly frustrated and Bokuto couldn’t blame her. She has gone through this same scenario a few times over. “You said you finished the portrait.”

“I did,” Bokuto nodded stiffly. “But… it wasn’t satisfactory enough.”

“You could have left that up for me to decide,” Mikoto huffed. Bokuto glanced over at Akaashi to find that the corner of his mouth had turned up in a smile. ‘Maybe this was his plan all along,’ Bokuto wondered. But it didn’t matter now. “Clearly, you are just like all the other painters who have come here. I suggest you leave as soon as possible.”

Bokuto nodded again, taking the cloth to cover up the portrait when Akaashi spoke up, saying something that neither Bokuto nor Mikoto could have expected.

“I’ll pose for him.”

Bokuto stopped and turned to face him. Akaashi was looking directly at him with a look of mild amusement on his face.

“You will?” Mikoto asked.

“I will,” Akaashi nodded. “I think… it’s time I put off this marriage long enough,” he explained. And yet, Bokuto didn’t quite believe he was telling the truth.

“Oh, Keiji,” Mikoto’s voice softened as she held her son’s face in her hands and enveloped him into a hug. “Thank you. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.”

“I know, Mother,” Akaashi said stiffly.

“As much as I would like to ask ‘why now?’, I really must get going,” Mikoto straightened up and looked at Bokuto this time. “I will be gone for two weeks. I expect a fully-finished portrait by the time I return.”

“I shall not disappoint,” Bokuto bowed.

“Good,” Mikoto nodded.

“Let me walk you to the ship, Mother,” Akaashi said, offering her his arm. Before leaving the room, Akaashi glanced once at Bokuto and with an imperceptible incline of his head, gestured for him to follow. An hour later, Mikoto and her luggage, which Bokuto helped Kageyama with, were loaded in the ship waiting for her at the docks. After the ship set sail, Kageyama was the first to head back to the house. Bokuto stayed with Akaashi as they watched the ship sail into the distance. He had a million questions for him but for now, all he could feel was relief. As Bokuto watched the way the wind swept through Akaashi’s hair, he knew that he wouldn’t mind looking at him for the next two weeks.

…

They started working on the portrait the next day. Kageyama offered to push the long table from the dining room to the side since it was the most well-lit room in the estate. In the middle, they added a chair and a low table for Akaashi to pose on. Bokuto set up his easel and spare canvas at the side, grateful at being able to paint in good lighting after having to work secretly in his own room. He began painting the background of the portrait with broad strokes of a maroon color to keep busy when Akaashi walked inside.

To say that he looked stunning was an understatement. Before Bokuto began his first portrait, Mikoto had shown him the suit that Akaashi was supposed to wear: a dark emerald green with golden buttons and a crisp white shirt meant to be worn with the color turned up. Seeing Akaashi actually wearing it was a different story. The suit hugged him perfectly, accentuating the slight curves in his waist with the high collar just reaching the bottom of his chin. Akaashi had combed his hair back just slightly which showed off his forehead.

“You look…” Bokuto began to say before stopping himself quickly. “Ready.”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi nodded curtly, unaware of how good he looked. “If you would…” he gestured to the chair in the center of the dining room and Bokuto hurried to pose him.

“Sit slightly forward in the chair,” he instructed. “Back straight. You can rest your elbow on the table if you want but the other hand, please keep on your lap.” Akaashi followed the instructions. “Lastly,” Bokuto reached a hand out to touch Akaashi’s shoulder to tilt him slightly towards the canvas. He was aware of how close Akaashi’s face was and that he was probably staring at Bokuto. ‘In all my years of painting, have I ever worked someone as beautiful as this?’ he wondered, before shaking the thought of his head and backing away to survey the pose. “Good, perfect,” Bokuto nodded before returning to his canvas.

“What expression should I have on my face?” Akaashi asked.

“A neutral expression would be ideal,” Bokuto answered, quickly painting an outline on the canvas. “If you get uncomfortable in your position please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Alright, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said. “Am I… allowed to speak?”

Bokuto glanced up at him and back to the painting. “Of course,” he swallowed before continuing. “I have you to thank for my job.”

“I didn’t do it for your job,” he heard Akaashi speak. Bokuto bit his lip. This wasn’t an ideal position for them to have this conversation.

“Then… why?” Bokuto asked.

“I should ask why you decided to destroy the portrait of me.”

“That… That’s because the person I painted wasn’t you,” Bokuto answered. “I didn’t want it to be the work I submitted.”

“I see…” Akaashi said. He had the same amused expression on his face as he had when he saw the portrait unveiled to him. “It’s just the opposite of what Prometheus did.” Bokuto paused his work to listen. “In your disgust at your creation, you opted to destroy it. Such is the mind of a creator.” There was a wry smile playing on Akaashi’s lips.

“It wasn’t disgust,” Bokuto contradicted him. “It was… a lack of attachment more like.”

“How come?” Akaashi cocked his head ever so slightly, his pose still undisturbed.

“Because my subject wasn’t aware of being painted,” Bokuto smiled, finally deciding to meet Akaashi’s gaze. Surprise flickered there, and then mirth.

“That better be a good portrait then.”

“It will be.”

They were able to finish a good amount of the portrait in that afternoon before Akaashi grew tired of posing. Bokuto was about to offer to go to the beach again but stopped when Akaashi headed straight for his room. ‘Maybe he doesn’t forgive me quite yet,’ Bokuto thought with a sigh, only for those thoughts to end when Akaashi asked him to have dinner in his room, especially since the dining table was out of use. It was a relief to see Akaashi engaged with him in conversation. The book of “Greek Legends and Myths” were still on the nightstand where Bokuto had left it. And somehow, with Mikoto out for two weeks, Bokuto felt as if he wanted to stay in that manor forever.

Before going straight to his room, he decided to pass by the dining room to look at the portrait again. He had worked fast, completing a few days’ work in just one day. The sensation of not wanting to leave was even stronger and Bokuto felt a hard lump in his throat. He walked briskly past the dining room when a small voice whispered in the back of his head: ‘Turn around.’

Bokuto spun around and caught sight of Akaashi standing in the far end of the room. Only, he was pale and almost transparent, and wearing an elaborate suit. Bokuto blinked once and then the vision was gone.

#across the sea #bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #portrait of a lady on fire!au #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu!! oneshot #across the sea: act I #bokuaka fanfic

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chipper9906 · 4 years ago

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Bound To You - Chapter 15: One Last Chapter - Part 2

< - - - Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 12,079

Overall Word Count: 128,757

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - Complete (15/15)

Chapter Preview:

Dean wasn’t listening to Rowena’s snide comments anymore. Hell, he wasn’t listening to much of anything anymore. Not the gentle whisper of the winds as it moves through the trees, nor the scratching rustle of the leaves catching against one another by said wind; or the beautiful melodies of birds as they flew over their heads, darting between the trees and over the top of the canopy.

There was only one thing that deserved his attention right now.

And that was Cas.

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The sun was beginning its descent, soon to kiss the horizon and transfer the sky’s beautiful colors of sunset to the dark of night, lit by a sprinkling of stars that would be shining over them before they knew it. Not that they would need the stars; Sam’s handiwork with the lanterns had practically created a mini version of the night sky above them, the flickering lights of the candles almost mesmerizing dotted around the tree canopy hanging over them.

“It’s beautiful,” Jack says next to Dean, a whimsical smile stretched across his face as he cranes his neck to look up at the canopy above them.

Dean huffs a laugh, looking down at his recently polished dress shoes as they push through the thin layer of leaves that had dropped to the forest floor. “Yeah... Sam did a good job setting everything up.”

Their pace as they move up the aisle was slow and easy, just taking the time to drink in the beautiful and calm environment that surrounded them. Jack tears his gaze away from the minimal decorations, glancing up to Dean as they continue forward. “Dean... can I ask you something?”

“Course you can,” Dean answered. “Although, I would have thought as God that you know everything anyway?”

“Not everything,” Jack replies brightly, “About Cas... what made you change your mind?”

A confused frown pinched at Dean’s brow, the two coming to a stop near the end of the aisle, just before the drooping willow tree. “Changed my mind on what?”

“Wanting to be with him,” Jack said. “I never really understood before... In that, I mean... When I was born, I understood what love was... I loved my mom, and I loved Cas from the moment he laid a hand on my mother’s womb. And then, as I got to know you and Sam, I knew of the love of friendship – one powerful enough to turn into family, but...” Jack paused for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe the memories in his mind. “I saw you and Sam, and I knew that was family love, like I have for my mom, and for Cas. I saw that same love between Sam and Cas, too. And all of you and Mary. Back then, when you were... you were so angry, and in so much pain, and I knew it was because you had lost Cas. And I thought I understood that pain, because... because I felt that pain in knowing he was gone, too. I thought that we loved him the same way, but then... then I brought him back, and I saw.”

Dean swallowed nervously, shuffling on the spot at Jack’s intense gaze. “What, uh... what did you see?”

“A different type of love,” Jack said. “Cas was back, and it was like... like you were back, too. You became a completely different person, and I realized I was seeing the true Dean for the first time. The pain radiating from you became more bearable, and... in that cowboy motel was the first time I saw you smile. Cas made you happy, and you made Cas happy, too. And when I realized that you and Cas were the different type of love, I... I expected for things to change. But they never did. Until now.”

Dean’s smile turned sad at the genuine questioning in Jack’s expression. His attention was momentarily distracted by the sight of Sam trudging through the woods towards them, the ends of his suit flapping in the wind as he hurries over to them. “Let’s just say me and Cas have never done things the ‘normal’ way. I never even knew Cas felt the way he did, and me... well, I was too blind to see it myself. Cas was always my best friend, and that was as far as I could see. I didn’t let myself think about seeing Cas as something more until I knew that was something he wanted, and... I dunno. It all sort of clicked that it was something I wanted, too.”

“Hey-,” Sam reached their side just as Dean finished talking, sounding slightly out of breath from his fast-paced walk from the bunker over to them. “-We might have to make a change of plans.”

“What for?” Dean asked.

“Rowena’s still not shown up,” Sam answers. “She did accept the invite, right?”

“Yep. She even wrote on the back of the invitation saying she’d bring some bagpipes and play a ‘traditional piece’ for us.”

Sam could only blink at Dean for a few moments. “Are you... are you joking right now, or...?”

“I’m being dead serious.”

“Okay, well uh... we’re running out of time here. Eileen messaged me not too long ago, said Cas and Claire is ready to start heading up here and she’ll be up here herself any second-,”

Sam was interrupted by the sight of Eileen appearing out in the distance, weaving through the thick coverage of trees as she makes her way towards them. Dean tried his best to smother his laughter at the downright smitten look on his brother’s face at the sight of Eileen in the light gray, ankle-length dress that Claire had picked out for the both of them to be wearing, having to pull up the ends of the dress as she walks to avoid dragging it through the soil and leaves on the ground.

Eileen’s steps faltered at the sight of the extra person she initially did not recognize. It was only because of Sam and Dean’s relaxed posture around the stranger that she did not immediately suspect that something was amiss. Then, as she got closer, did she recognize the face of the boy Sam had shown her one evening on his phone; recognizing the same warm smile of the boy stuffing homemade burgers into his face as the one on the boy standing next to Dean.

“Hello!” The boy's tone held the same warmth as his smile did, along with the enthusiastic wave he gave in greeting.

“Eileen - this is Jack,” Dean gave introductions, gesturing from Eileen to Jack. “Jack, I’m assuming you already know who Eileen is?”

“Yes - but this is the first time we’re meeting face to face,” Jack replies, the kind smile on his face never once faltering. “I’m sorry, I... I don’t know sign language yet...”

“That’s okay,” Eileen assured him. “I can read lips.”

“I thought God knew everything...” Dean mumbled discreetly under his breath as if the powerful being stood next to him wouldn't be able to pick up even the quietest of whispers.

“How’s Cas and Claire doing?” Sam asked Eileen.

“Should be here in about ten minutes,” Eileen said. Her eyes ran over all three who stood in front of her, quickly realizing the problem at hand. “Um... aren’t we missing our officiant?”

“That we are,” Sam answered, his lips tightening into a straight line of concern. “I suppose if it comes down to it, I’ll have to fill in. Not much to it, right? Not like we’re doing this the usual way...”

“And let you butcher it, Samuel? I don’t think so.”

Dean would have sworn in his surprise if he wasn’t so damn thankful to hear that Scottish melody of an accent behind him. He spun around on the spot, finding Rowena stood a few meters behind him; dressed in a distractingly bright red dress that matched the ruby rose color of her lipstick, with her fiery shade of hair pulled up into a neat and classy bun atop her head.

“What time do you call this?” Dean joked, putting on his best fake pissed glare, that of which immediately cracked into a joking smile.

“I call it being fashionably late,” Rowena fired back, her eyes sliding over to Sam and Eileen next to Dean. “You clean up well, Samuel.”

Rowena’s compliment left Sam blushing the same red as Rowena’s dress. “And don’t worry dear, I’m not trying to steal your man.” She added at Eileen’s questioning glare, sending the young woman a knowing wink that had Eileen blushing alongside Sam.

“Hello again, Jack,” Rowena greeted Jack, who was still standing patiently next to Dean.

“Again?” Dean questioned, gesturing with his index finger between the two. “You two have met?”

“Aye, not long after our new Lord ascended to his throne,” Rowena answered. “We came to an agreement, so to speak. A nice little deal.”

Dean didn’t like that word. ‘Deal’. In his experience, there was no such thing as a ‘nice deal’. “What kind of deal?”

“Relax – that disgustingly shiny soul of his is still in there,” Rowena rolled her eyes at Dean’s protectiveness.

“We talked about the changes to Hell,” Jack answered for Rowena. “I wanted to make sure that the only people who go to Hell are those that actually deserve it.”

“So… what does that mean?” Sam asked.

“It means that some demons are going through some career changes,” Rowena said. “No more crossroad demons – which means no more deals. Only souls that make their way down to me, are those that have tainted themselves with their own deeds.”

“You serious?” Dean asks, barely able to believe it. “The gates to Hell are closed?”

“No,” Rowena answers. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here, now would I? I may still need to send my men up here on occasion, but… not for nefarious purposes, of course. Only souls they’re allowed to rip into are those that have already been damned.”

“And… how do they like that change?” Eileen asked.

“They’ve accepted it surprisingly well,” Rowena said. “Then again, those that began speaking out were reduced to ashes, so… it’s not too surprising that they saw this option was the better one.”

“Huh… sounds like you’re running a tight shift,” Dean noted.

“That I am. Don’t exactly want to be messing up and have the Winchesters on my back, now do I?”

“Technically, only Sam for now,” Dean corrected her. “I am officially retired.”

“Oh?” Rowena said in genuine surprise, turning to the younger Winchester. “Well in that case…”

“Haha, very funny,” Sam deadpanned. “

“Right, right – I should save all the jokes for the reception,” Rowena clapped her hands joyfully, looking around the small clearing they were in. “Now, don’t we have a wedding to attend?”

* * *

Dean was gonna throw up.

Yep, that’s what that pinching feeling in his stomach was. He supposed they could be called butterflies - but only if those butterflies were armed with tiny bats and were furiously beating his insides with them.

“Am I going to have to catch you if you pass out?” Sam leaned forward from his spot as the best man to whisper into Dean’s ear, nearly getting an elbow in response from Dean, whose gaze was fixated on the aisle ahead and the – as of yet – empty expanse of forest that led up to it.

“I could help remove your nerves, if you’d like?” Jack offered, begging to step away from next to Sam to do just that.

“No, no, no, it’s fine,” Dean assured Jack, still looking out to the forest. “The nerves are good… part of the experience… they’re good nerves.”

“Could always give you a fifth of whisky…” Rowena mumbles behind Dean, stood ready in her officiating spot. “I know that calms me down.”

“Maybe it’s best we all get drunk after the wedding, not before?” Eileen suggests, the only one currently stood on Cas’s side of the alter – the privilege bestowed upon her after being declared Cas’s maid of honor (just as Dean called, he’d like to point out)

“You may be right there, lass. Then again, maybe it’s best he doesn’t drink at all. Would be a shame if he can’t get it up on his wedding night of all nights-,”

There was only one thing that deserved his attention right now.

And that was Cas.

That was his best friend, his fiancée, his soon-to-be husband, who was walking towards him; elbow linked with his surrogate daughter with matching smiles on both their faces. Claire was dressed in the same cloudy gray dress as Eileen, looking as elegant as a princess from one of those Disney films Jack made them sit down and watch once. And then Cas…

Cas was stunning.

He hadn’t even been allowed to know what Cas was going to wear. He has just sort of assumed he’d be wearing a suit like he was, especially considering the fact that Cas was always wearing a suit under that bulky trench coat of his. But then again, maybe that was the reason he hadn’t; it would probably have felt like he was in his normal, day to clothes.

Cas hasn’t gone over the top or anything. In fact, what he was wearing was pretty damn simple, but Cas made it look like the finest choice of fashion there is. His dress shirt was a crisp white, standing out amongst the vibrant greens of the forest he was walking through; his pants and shoes were probably the only thing he might have kept from his usual wardrobe, their jet black color a stark contrast to his shirt. The outfit was all brought together with a pair of black suspenders, connected to the belt loops of his pants and looped around his shoulders and down his back, and in place of his usual blue tie – which, of course, was currently tied around Dean’s neck, was a emerald green bow tie that didn’t take Dean long to realize matched the color of his eyes.

Dean was content to stand here and drink him in forever. Claire’s and Cas’s pace down the aisle was leisurely, but a part of Dean wanted it to be slower – not because he wanted to prolong his bachelorhood, no, but because he wanted to take as much time to ingrain this moment into his memory. He wanted to be old and drooling in a care home, most of his memories gone but this one always shining bright in his head, always the one to bring a gummy, denture-filled smile to his aged and wrinkled face.

Claire almost barked out a laugh when she had reached the end of the aisle, only to see Dean’s eyes fixated on Cas with the most blissed-out smile she’s ever seen. “Hey, Dean?”

That at least managed to snap Dean out of it a little, some focus coming back into his eyes as he tilts his head towards Claire. “Huh?”

“You look after this dumbass, okay?” Claire asks, getting an undignified huff from Cas. “Oh, and, if you hurt him? I will kill you. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Claire!” Cas sounded genuinely horrified by the threat.

“Claire - I ever decide to go and do something so stupid? I’ll have the shotgun loaded and ready outside the door for you to use.”

“Dean!” Castiel did not appreciate Dean spurring her violent tendencies on.

Claire and Dean shared knowing smiles before Claire unlinked her elbow from Cas, leaning up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his freshly shaven face before taking her spot next to Eileen on Cas’s side of the makeshift alter under the willow tree.

“Wow…” Dean, the master of words and expert at flirting, finds this is the only word he can say to Cas as he steps up next to him. And yet, that one word succeeds in getting a lovely blush to spread across Cas’s face, much to his delight. “You, uh, wow – you look…”

“Thank you,” Castiel saves Dean from blubbering out anymore “uh’s” and “um’s”, letting his arm brush against Dean’s as they settle into position. “You look beautiful, Dean.”

Dean didn’t exactly ever expect to be called ‘beautiful’ in his life. And yet, with all the ‘ruggedly handsome’, ‘drop-dead gorgeous’, ‘adorably cute’ comments he’s gotten from the ladies in the past… somehow, having Cas call him beautiful is the only compliment he’s ever received to get a genuine smile in response, ducking his head to hide his bashful smile and slowly reddening cheeks.

“Ladies and Gents, witches, former angels, former demons, Gods… whatever title you’d like… I think we can all agree that this is a sight we’d never thought we’d see,” Rowena begins, spreading out her arms to gesture at all around them. “And yet, here we are — standing at Dean Winchesters wedding. And not just Dean Winchester’s wedding, but Dean Winchester’s and Castiel’s.

“Now, I must admit, I was a wee bit confused as to why you asked me to officiate this wedding. I had assumed that perhaps the past attempts on both your lives may have lost me my golden ticket. I must confess that I know little about officiating. I was never married you see, and… it’s safe to say things have changed quite a bit over the years. But I suppose having God himself here makes it easier, wouldn’t you say? After all, the officiant is simply the middleman in all of this, serving as God’s witness to the joining of the couple before them. Well… God’s right here to witness it himself — and I think it’s safe to say he has no objections.”

“Nope,” Jack says with his usual enthusiasm, looking quite pleased with his answer.

“Well then… there’s not much else for me to say,” Rowena says, placing a hand on both their shoulders. “Boys… I can’t express how thankful I am you finally ripped the band-aid off, so to speak, and told each other how you feel. Because quite frankly? Watching you two pine over each other without mentioning it was almost as insufferable as having Lucifer snap my neck.”

“We weren’t that bad…” Dean tries defending him and Cas, but the amused snort of Sam next to him kind of ruins that.

“Hard parts on you boys now,” Rowena lets her hands slip away from their shoulders. “I assume you have your own vows?”

“Yeah, we do,” Dean answers, turning his focus away from Rowena to the man he plans on spending the rest of his life with. “You want me to go first?”

“Only if you want to.”

Dean nods, breathing deeply through his nerves as he prepares himself. This wasn’t exactly a speech he wanted to mess up.

“Cas… I’m not going to lie to you, I spent way too long thinking about what to say to you. I, uh… I actually started writing it down, had it all on this little piece of paper, and I realized… I didn’t need it. I didn’t need to sit there and think about how I feel for you. If I’m unable to tell you what you deserve to hear from my heart, right on the spot, then… what’s the point? So, everything I’m about to say… I want you to know that I mean every word of it.”

Castiel smiles at him – this soft, at peace kind of smile that lets Dean know that he knows every word out of his mouth is going to be the truth.

“Cas… you know how hard it is for me to accept new people into my life. Every time I let them in, let myself care for them… they’re taken away from me. It’s a vicious cycle, and in the past, I decided the best way to break it was to remove the cycle entirely; keep myself distant from everyone who tries to become a part of my life. But you? You were like the world's largest mosquito…” Dean was glad to see that Cas found that as humorous as he did, the tender smile on his face widening briefly as a short huff of laugher escapes him. “You know, at first, it was kinda easy. Taking orders is what I did best back then. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have my dad barking orders into my ear, and I felt strangely lost without them. Then, there you were - always popping up at the most unexpected times, nearly sending me back to ‘perdition’ with the heart attacks you’d induce, reminding me that God had a job for me and giving me orders… I’m not afraid to admit that there were times I wish I’d never met you, Cas. The times where I felt like the burden of being the ‘righteous man’ were too much, the expectations you and all the other angels had for me, it… it felt like it would all be better if you never came into my life. Go back to the way things were before.

“And then… there would be the times I lost you. Coming back from purgatory without you, or when we lost you after Jack was born… that was a different form of Hell, mostly because I didn’t understand why it hurt so damn much to lose you. Out of all the friends I’ve lost over the years… losing you made me into an entirely different person – and I didn’t like that man one bit. ‘Course, I just chalked it up to you being my best friend, but… I should have known better. I know what a broken heart feels like.

“But the thing is, the first time I lost you? I lost Sammy, too. And Bobby. All that grief sort of got… mashed into one. I didn’t know what to feel, and before I knew it… there you were again. Alive, powered up once more… and then you left again.

“So, I tried to do the ‘normal life’ thing. Find some semblance of peace, but… well, we all know how that ended up. And see, I think that’s part of why I always thought I’d die bloody, out on a hunt. Because giving up hunting, living a normal life? Whenever I tried to envision it… all I’d think of is how wrong it went last time, and… it scared me to try that again. To mess up the life of someone I loved, all to find myself back hunting again, like it’s some sort of drug I can't quit. But then… then I tried something new. Instead of picturing the blank, faceless woman in my future… I let myself see you, Cas. I let myself self us, trying the whole ‘hunter retirement’ thing. I saw us working through me giving up hunting, and it worked, because you understand me, Cas. You help me work through it; help remind me what it is I’m living for now. And really – what else is there for me to say to you, Cas? I want you to be the one to help me get through every problem that comes out way. I want to be by your side, every morning you wake up, ready to be there for you just as you are for me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you – and beyond that – because I love you. God help me, I really do.

“And he says he’s not good with words…” Sam leans down to whisper to Jack, perhaps a little more misty-eyed than he thought he’d be.

Dean doesn’t focus on his brother’s snarky comments. Instead, he takes in the genuine look of disbelief on Cas’s face, which in of itself is kind of painful to know – Dean decides then and there to make sure he constantly reminds Cas of how he feels for him as often as he can, for the rest of their damn lives. It’s not until Dean reaches out and brushes his fingers against the back of Cas’s hand that he seems to snap back into himself, finding his fingers instinctively twitching towards Dean’s, wanting to intertwine them and never let go.

For a moment, Dean thought that Eileen had mixed up the timings as she leaned over to Cas, handing him what Dean knew to be a ring enclosed snugly in her closed hand, out of sight. He hadn’t actually seen the ring yet – Cas has refused to let him see it until the wedding – but judging by the way Cas took the ring from her hand without comment, it seemed likely that Cas had made this a part of his vows.

“Dean, do you remember… it was during one of your dreams. We were on a beach, lazing about in the water, and I spoke to you in many different tongues. There was one part, where I talked to you about my time as a human. Of course, you didn’t know this, as you did not understand the languages I was speaking, but… I feel the need to expand on this, for you to understand.

“When I fell for you… I didn’t understand why. I wasn’t supposed to feel such things. The only love I was supposed to hold was for my Father, and for humanity as a whole – something my brothers and sisters often forwent. I was scared. Scared of what these feelings meant, to the disaster it would undoubtedly lead to. The only saving grace I had was that I was still an angel. These feelings, whilst powerful because it was the first time I was feeling them… they were muted. Like an itch you can’t quite scratch. Not unbearable, but… persistent enough that you’re always aware of their presence.

“And then… I became human. In a way, I was thankful for the overwhelming feels of shame, of guilt for being the cause of my brothers and sisters being cast from Heaven; all these new feelings such as hunger and cold, and exhaustion and… every annoying thing that comes with being human, I suppose. But the thought of seeing you again? I didn’t know it was possible to feel so filled with anticipation and… and dread. Because if the way I felt for you was as strong as it was whilst I had my grace… how would I cope with it, as nothing more than a human? All these new…. desires. Temptations.

“When I regained my grace once more, it was… I thought it’d be a relief, I suppose. No longer having to feel the full brunt of my emotions. But a part of me missed that human aspect. Even when all I could do was stand by your side as nothing more than a friend… it was a privilege to feel the way I did for you. Still, it did make it easier. I was able to focus more, an extra sense of logic I felt I had lost as a human driven mostly by emotions. Sometimes… I’d think about what it would like to become human again. To give up my grace and just… live my own life, as Metatron once suggested I do.

“At the time, I realized I didn’t want to go through that again. Not because I would be mortal, susceptible to minor illnesses – and major – having to deal with that repeating cycle of hunger and thirst, keeping up with hygiene – all the things I wouldn’t have to think twice about as an angel. No, I would be perfectly fine with all those things. What I didn’t want to deal with again was the longing. The pain of being so utterly in love with you, and knowing I could never have you in that way. Being the ‘friend’ you took to bars, having to watch you walk out with yet another partner on your arm… No matter what, I wanted to be a part of your life – but at least being an angel helped take away some of the pain of knowing you would never love me that same way.

“But then… then here we are. Here we are, with you telling me things I only briefly dreamed about in my times as a human, and now… Now I look forward to being human. I get to experience the full, deeply seated, encompassing love that I have for you, because now I know I get to share that love with you. I get to spend the rest of my life, however short or long it might be, with you – and not just as your friend. I get to be more than that – I get to have what I always wanted, but never thought I could have.”

Cas brought his closed fist up in between them, uncurling his fingers to reveal a gleaming silver ring sat in his hand. The metal was oddly sleek, almost too perfect. Dean felt like he had seen that metal before, but he couldn’t quite pin it…

“I hope you don’t mind, but I ‘took a page from your book’, so to speak. This ring, like the one you made for me, is made of a metal that once belonged to a weapon. My weapon, to be specific.”

Dean’s eyes widened at the realization of what Cas had given up, wide eyes darting between Cas and the ring he held in his hand. “You… you melted down your angel blade?”

“The only one I have,” Castiel confirmed. “The one I always kept hidden up my sleeve, ready for any battle I ran into. I wanted to make this ring out of my weapon as a reminder to you. I want you to remember that everything about my prior life – my brothers and sisters, my Father; the billions of years I spent as a Soldier of God, watching over Earth in many forms, flying past the planets of the various galaxies my father had created… none of it compares to the honor of knowing you, Dean. I was, am, and always will be ready to give all that up in a heartbeat, if it means I end up right here with you. So, on the days that you wonder why I married you – and I know you will think that from time to time, as much as it pains me for you to think that – I want you to take a look at this ring on your finger and remember that ‘Castiel, angel of the Lord’ is who I used to be. But being ‘Castiel Winchester?’ That is who I am proudest to be.”

Everyone at the ceremony – even Rowena – couldn’t help but look upon the two soon-to-be newlyweds with warm smiles and melted hearts. Dean was smiling so wide that he was sure to have a sore face the next day – but this seemed worth it. Cas held Dean’s left hand in his, fingers never as steady as he smoothly slides the silver ring onto Dean’s ring finger. Dean felt a nudge by his shoulder, looking over to see Sam holding his custom-made ring for Cas. Dean takes it, shooting his brother a thankful smile before taking Cas’s hand in his, just as Cas had for him, and sliding the ring onto Cas’s ring finger.

“Since we’ve done the vows and the ring’s the wrong way round, I’m just going to skip the whole ‘If anyone objects’ part, because this wedding is enough drama in of itself. So… now for the fun part,” Rowena declared once the rings were in place, her voice barely catching their attention – which was focused on the rings they both now wore. “Do you, Dean Winchester, take Castiel as your – not so lawfully – wedded husband, to be your partner in life; to share your love through the bad and the good, until death do you part?”

“I do,” Dean says like he’s never been so certain of something in his life. “Not even after death, Cas. Always.”

“And do you, Castiel, take Dean Winchester as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish him through the joys and the sorrow, through sickness and through health, until death do you part?”

“I do,” Castiel announces, unable to resist the temptation to reach a hand forward for Dean, the small smile on his face widening as Dean’s fingers instinctively entwine with his – feeling the cold metal of Dean’s ring against his skin.

“Then by the power vested in me by… definitely not the state of Kansas, but by the power of this God standing a few feet away from me, I pronounce you spouses in love and in life. Now go on, kiss him!”

Dean didn’t know if Rowena was talking specifically to him or to Cas on that last part, but it didn’t matter in the end; they both found themselves leaving forward at the same time, dipping down and tilting his head as Cas’s lips meet his. The sounds of their friends and family clapping and cheering was nothing more than muted background noise. His senses were focused entirely on Cas; of his lips that had become chapped and dry in the breeze, but no less addictingly soft; the sugary and fruity taste of his lips – likely some sort of jelly Cas had eaten with his breakfast this morning; the soapy, pine tree smell of hair – something that seemed to linger even after he had lost his grace. Not that Dean was complaining – next to a freshly baked apple pie, it was probably the best thing he had ever smelled.

The sun had all but disappeared now, nothing more than a sliver of gold peeking over the horizon. Most of the sky had shifted to that blue that was so dark it might as well be black, only held back by the last swirls of reds, oranges, and pinks of the steadily fading sunset. The loss of the sun also meant the loss of the day’s pleasant warmth, the once relieving and cooling breeze raising goosebumps across everyone’s skin.

“Uh, guys… I don’t think we worked out the whole ‘timing’ thing too well…” Sam leaned across to pop the blissful bubble Dean and Cas were wrapped up in. “We should probably get going to the bunker before we’re stumbling back in the dark.”

* * *

Dean and Cas didn’t return at first.

Dean sent Sammy and the others back, instructing him to ‘get the party started without them’. It wasn’t like they were going to take too long – they’d probably be right behind them. Besides, it gave Sam some time to get their guests settled, start serving out food, and… well, like he said: get the party started.

“Will your first act as a married man be to murder your husband in the middle of woods, in the middle of night, in the middle of nowhere, where no one will hear you commit such a heinous crime?” Castiel asked, taking a seat on a fallen tree, and glancing up to Dean.

“Damn – you figured out my master plan,” Dean joked with him, dropping down on the tree with a heavy sigh. “I was doing everything in my power to bring you back, just to have the pleasure of taking your life by my own hands.”

“How cruel of you,” Castiel mumbled, craning his head back to take a look at the canopy of stars above them, only just starting to become visible as the sky continues to darken. “Why did you want to stay behind?”

“I don’t know… guess I thought it’d be nice to enjoy a moment of peace first. ‘Calm before the storm’ and all that.”

“…What storm?”

“Going back to the bunker,” Dean answered, keeping his line of sight aimed towards the sky. “Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to see everyone and get to celebrate a good thing for once. But… just a moment before, with just us, would be nice. I feel like it hasn’t been just us in…”

“I know,” Castiel agrees softly, leaning into Dean’s side and resting his head against Dean’s shoulder. “With all the running around getting things ready for the wedding, we’ve barely managed to actually see each other.”

“Hmm. No better way to build up to a marriage than to separate yourself from your partner through a stressful time, then throw them back together again for the rest of their lives.”

Castiel hums in agreement, taking advantage of the heat radiating from Dean to keep away the chill of the night. “Sounds about right to the way humans like to do things.”

“Yep. And you’re a human now, too. Welcome to a life of dumb decisions, Cas.”

Castiel chuckled warmly, letting his eyes scan across the forming constellations appearing in the night sky. “I think it’s more likely that I’ll get to watch you make the dumb decisions.”

“We haven’t even been married for ten minutes and you’re already insulting me.”

“Yes – but I’d like to point out that I intend to stand by you through every dumb decision you will inevitably make.”

Dean and Cas fell silent for a few moments, content to sit in each other’s company and gaze upon the stars overhead. Dean couldn’t help but think back to that night – or at least, the fake one in his dream - where they were sat like this on top of Baby. That night had been the beginning of their relationship, but this night? This night was the beginning of the rest of their lives.

“Now that you’re human, do you still think I’m prettier than the stars?” Dean couldn’t help but ask, tearing his eyes away from the sky above down to Cas.

“I don’t have to be an angel to see how brightly your soul shines, Dean.” Castiel’s voice rumbled through Dean’s chest from where Cas was leaning on him. “I can see it shining through when you smile, and through your eyes when you see your family.”

Dean reached an arm around to wrap Cas up, pulling him tighter into his side. “You know you don’t have to keep up with the sappy shit, right? You got me.”

“That’s no reason for me to stop,” Castiel refuted.

Dean signed in content, letting himself enjoy one last minute of relative peace before nudging at Cas to get up, standing from the log and holding out a hand for Cas to take.

“C’mon – let’s get back to the madhouse.”

* * *

Sam was partly right about the ‘stumbling home in the dark’ thing. Okay, he was completely right; Dean and Cas spent half the walk back to the bunker giggling at one another as they tripped over every loose branch, patch of thorns, sneaky exposed roots, and tree stumps hiding under the leaves.

The first thing they noticed upon returning to the bunker was that the door had been left open. Not too strange, since there was a chance Sam, Eileen, Rowena, Jack, and Claire hadn’t long since returned and decided to leave the door cracked open for their return. But on the other hand, this was still supposed to be a secret bunker that kept out most supernatural beings that weren’t welcome - and keeping the friggen door opened was kind of ruining the whole point of that.

They didn’t have much time to mull over Sam’s unusual stupidity on the subject of safety as, upon pushing the door open further and stepping through the doorway together, they were both showered in a spray of rainbow-colored confetti. Sam had set up an honest to God bucket trap atop the door.

“And here’s Mr. and Mr. Winchester!” Came Sam’s delighted shout, bringing out a joyous cheer from the small crowd that had gathered below, clapping at the two of them up on the balcony frozen in the small pile of colored paper pieces that were laid by their feet.

Their guest list wasn’t particularly long since, well… there weren’t many friends of theirs left alive to attend their wedding. It was of comfort though, knowing that all those that aren’t with them anymore were, undoubtedly, watching the festivities from up above. And besides, there was no doubt in Dean's mind that they'd be greeted to some over-the-top celebration once they finally cross the pearly gates for good.

The first guests to greet them as they stepped off the stairs was probably the most enthusiastic of the night; Dean had barely looked up from his feet before both he and Cas were wrapped up in the mother of all bear hugs – or should he say wolf hugs – by a grinning, looked-like-he-was-seconds-away-from-crying-of-happiness, Garth.

“You know you’re gonna get a hug from me on your big night, Dean!” Garth crowed in his ear at near-deafening volume

“And I’m too high on wedding happiness right now to reject it,” Dean answered back, unable to even hug Garth back due to his arms being pinned between them.

“Oh, I nearly forgot introductions! Cas, you haven’t even met my family yet…” Garth unbound them from their hug so quickly that both Dean and Cas nearly fell over. Garth stepped to the side, calling over the rest of his family who had been patiently watching them nearby.

Betty had both her twins practically attached to her legs, one of the twins (Dean had no idea who was who considering the last time he saw them was in diapers), with a thumb firmly planted in his mouth in a way that endearingly reminded him of how Sam used to do the exact same thing whenever he was nervous as a kid. The other little girl (Gertrude! Dean remembered that one) was holding onto her mother's hand, looking around the strangers -and equally strange home- with a mixture of nervousness and childlike curiosity.

“Castiel, this is my lovely wife, Betty,” Garth introduced his wife.

“I'd shake your hand, but they’re rather full right now,” Betty said, gesturing to her literal hand full of kids. “And… I don’t know if that ring you’re wearing is silver…”

“And these here are my beautiful children,” Garth proclaimed, voice filled with clear pride as he looked down at his kids. “Gertrude, you wanna say hi to another one of Daddy’s friends?”

“Hello,” Gertrude said politely, waving a small hand to Castiel.

“And this little rascal is Sam,” Garth said, crouching down and tousling the hair of the little boy with his thumb in his mouth. The younger Sam popped his thumb out his mouth long enough to give Dean and Cas a little wave before promptly sticking his thumb back in his mouth.

“And this-,” Is as far as Garth got before the other twin – who had been staring up at Cas with wide eyes – peeled himself off of his mother and shuffled over to Cas, reaching out with his hands and a high-pitched command of “Up!”

Dean was expecting for Cas to panic a little at that. He had never actually seen Cas interact with children before – unless you counted Jack, though it’s safe to say Jack was just a tad bit more mature than the children in front of him. To his surprise though, Cas immediately bent down and scooped the young child up into his arms, responding to the kid’s high-pitched giggle of delight with a toothy smile of his own.

“This… is Castiel,” Garth finished his prior sentence. Castiel’s head snapped over to Garth in complete shock, looking genuinely taken aback at what he had just heard.

“Oh… is he…?”

“Named after you? How many other Castiel’s do you know?” Garth said with a grin, wrapping one arm around his wife, and the other around his daughter.

“I think little Cas likes you,” Dean told his husband, fighting back a laugh when the curious child pats at Castiel’s cheeks with his chubby hands.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Castiel said to the child who probably couldn’t understand what he just said. He caught little Cas’s explorative hands in his free one, sending him into another fit of giggles at the giant hands that covered his own.

“Here, I’ll take him from ya,” Garth said, holding out his arms for his son. Young Castiel brightened at the sight of his father, grabbing hold of his dad with an excited squeal of “Da-Da!” Garth held his son by his side, giving the two newly-weds a happy smile. “I’ll stop taking up all your time – let you talk to the others. I expect to see you on the dance floor later though, Dean!”

“You think I wouldn’t take the opportunity to embarrass my husband in front of everyone?” Dean said, ignoring the narrow-eyed glare Cas sent his way.

The next guests they greeted were the only other guests at this little reception of theirs, having gathered in a small group off to the side. Donna was the first to spot them making their way over, breaking out into a friendly grin that she always seemed to have. “Can you believe it, eh? Dean Winchester? Married?”

“I can hardly believe it myself,” Dean responded, pretty much stepping into the hug that Donna initiated the second he was within arms-reach.

“And I don’t think we’ve ever actually met!” Donna directed towards Castiel once she pulled herself away from Dean, sticking out a hand for Castiel to shake. “Donna Hanscum – nice to meet ya.”

Castiel took her hand, giving it a friendly shake with his best smile. “I’m surprised we never crossed paths. I suppose we’ve both led busy lives.”

“Didn’t use to be,” Donna joked. “I used to think being the sheriff would be the most stressed I’d ever be… then came along these two idiot brothers and turned my life upside down.”

“Uh… should I apologize?” Dean said.

“Of course not!” Donna proclaimed, giving Dean an enthusiastic slap to the arm with the back of her hand. “Now I know about all the spooky things out there that I never knew about! Good to feel like I can actually make a difference.”

“It seems you’re either born into the hunter life, or dragged into it by the Winchesters,” Came the voice of Jody, stepping up next to Donna with a glass of some fancy champagne in hand that Sam had splurged a little too much on.

“And it’s a damn good thing we did,” Dean argues. “With me and Sammy retiring, I can think of no other duo to take over the title of America’s best hunters.”

“That’s something I never thought I’d hear, either…” Jody said. “You really dropping out for good?”

“Unless there’s some other major catastrophe, then… yeah. This is it,” Dean tells them. “I could never ignore the end of the world, no matter how ‘retired’ I am, but… I know you guys will take care of things with us gone.”

“We’ll certainly try,” Jody said softly, placing her drink down on the map table to wrap them both up in a hug that Dean could only describe as ‘motherly’.

“I’m so proud of you boys…” She utters softly to them, squeezing them tighter as she speaks. “After all the crap you’ve been put through… you deserve this.”

“Thank you,” Castiel says sincerely, giving Jody one last squeeze before separating. A mother’s touch wasn’t one he had really experienced…

“You seen how well they’ve been getting along?” Jody asked, gesturing with a tilt of her head to the teens behind her. “I suppose it’s good they’re getting along well with… God?”

Dean’s eyes shifted over Jody’s shoulder, seeing exactly what Jody was talking about. Claire, Kaia, Alex, and Patience were huddled in the corner of the room, talking excitedly to Jack – who looked rather pleased to be the center of attention.

“Time to be embarrassing Dad’s,” Dean told Cas, shooting Jody and Donna one last smile before making their way over to the teens, who were likely getting themselves into all sorts of trouble.

“Can you please try not to convince our new God to perform any party tricks that might set the bunker on fire?” Dean asked as they got within ear-shot.

“I think I’m good enough at my powers not to do that now,” Jack replied, raising up his hand as if to show Dean something. “I’ve been practicing with-,”

“No God powers in the bunker!” Dean held out a hand to stop him, only feeling slightly bad for the pout that instantaneously appeared on Jack’s face.

“Dude, did you just tell God what to do?” Claire asked.

“Hell yeah I did,” Dean said proudly.

“You can show us later,” Castiel leans forward to whisper to Jack, giving him a wink as the pout on Jack’s face changes into a pleased smile.

“Guess we know who wears the pants in this family…” Alex mumbles to Patience, who hides her snort of laugher in the glass of coke she had brought up to her mouth.

“I might be getting older, but I’m not that deaf yet,” Dean said, glaring at the group of teens in front of him.

“Chill Grandpa,” Claire’s insult only intensified the glare tenfold. “I just wanted to get to know Jack a little better. I mean, he’s basically my brother.”

“Um… not really,” Cas said awkwardly. “In a way, I suppose you could consider him a cousin, but-,”

“Nope. He’s my brother. I’ve decided it,” Claire interrupted Cas, throwing an arm around Jack’s shoulder with a teasing grin. “Apparently you guys never taught him about pranks? That’s just a crime. He didn’t even know what the bucket prank that Sam set up was!”

“I didn’t know that a knowledge of pranks is a necessary part of life,” Castiel said. “Although, having live through many of Gabriel’s pranks, I can’t say I’m particularly fond of them.”

“Yeah, and we kinda decided that teaching a kid with powers pranks would probably end in disaster,” Dean said.

“You had cruel, cruel parents, Jack,” Claire told a rather befuddled-looking Jack, steering him away from them and towards the library, with Alex, Patience, and Kaia in tow. “C’mon – you’ve got many things to learn…”

Dean and Cas watched them go with an odd sense of contentment that Claire and Jack were getting along so well… and complete and utter dread that they were getting along so well. Dean turned to Cas once the group disappeared into the hallway – most likely to use Jack’s powers to change all of the alcohol in the bunker into water or some ironic shit like that – sharing an amused look with his new husband.

“Should I go fetch the fire extinguisher?”

* * *

The library had been converted into a temporary dining room for the reception. The long wooden table had a pristine white cloth draped over it, along with a few candles in silver holders being placed along the middle. Sam had dragged out a few chairs from storage, given them a quick dusting and varnishing to breathe new life into them, and situated them along the table.

They had been eating for around twenty minutes at this point, nearly everyone having finished their meal. Dean was watching Garth attempt to clean the mess of blood from the twin’s face (from the raw steaks they had served for Garth and his family), when Sam stood from his chair and clinked a knife to his glass, damn near shattering the thin glass with his strong hits.

The small conversations people had fallen into tapered off, the room falling into an expectant silence as all eyes turned to Sam. Sam cleared his throat, placing the knife back down on the table but keeping the glass of champagne in his hand as he addressed the room with his best man’s speech.

“Hey, so, uh… I just wanna say thank you to everyone for being here. I know that you’re all here because you want to support these two guys here on what will be one of the most important days of their lives, and having you all here will be part of why this night will be so memorable. So-,” Sam paused, raising his drink in the air. “-Cheers to all of you,”

“Cheers!” Rang around the table as everyone lifted their glasses into the air, before taking a swig of their drink.

“And, of course, cheers to the couple in question,” Sam said, turning to face both his brother and Cas. “I know I like to tease you guys a lot, since… it’s kind of a part of being the annoying little brother, I suppose. But I don’t think I have the words to say just how happy I am for you two. And Cas – I can’t thank you enough. Not only for how you’ve been there for both of us, through thick-and-thin, one apocalypse after the other, but for just how happy you make my brother. I’ve never seen Dean look so at peace than when he’s with you, and as much as my role as Dean’s brother is to annoy the hell out of him, it’s also to make sure that you’re happy. Now that you’ve got Cas? I don’t have to worry about that.”

Sam raised his glass once more, this time in their direction, fighting back tears at the misty-eyed looks he got from both Dean and Cas. “To Dean and Castiel Winchester!”

“To Dean and Castiel Winchester!” Everyone parroted.

Dean had been expecting for Sam to sit back down after his speech, or perhaps even walk over to wrap them both up in hugs. To his surprise, Sam remained standing, shooting him much too of a mischievous grin for Dean’s liking.

“One last thing,” Sam added. “Dean… I thought that tonight, I’d try and turn the cards on you and give you a surprise of my own. For months, I was stumped on what gift to get you. I felt like, as both your brother and best man, it had to be something meaningful. That’s when I remembered a little story Cas told me.

“For those of you that don’t know it, Cas had to spend some time up in Dean’s head. What I didn’t know was that every night, Dean was spending time with Cas in his dreams. Dean has a kind of special marking on his arm, in the form of a handprint. Specifically, Cas’s handprint. During one of these dreams, Dean told Cas that he wished Cas had a mark, too. Something of his to wear on Cas’s skin. And that’s when the plan came to my mind. But, for the plan to work, it all fell down onto one requirement – Dean needed to be an asshole.”

The glare Dean sent his brother’s way didn’t quite have the heat to it that he wanted, considering his cheeks quickly reddened at the knowing laughter that spread across the table.

“Thankfully, Dean completed that requirement pretty quickly,” Sam said with a playful grin. “Do you remember, Dean, a few months ago, when I told you I was trying a new hobby? I had gotten everything set up, too; the canvas, the paints, the easel, everything. You waltzed right into my room, asked me what I was doing, and as soon as I began explaining that I wanted to take up painting… you stuck your hand straight into the paints and planted your paint-covered hand onto the canvas.

“You left the room laughing that day, and it had never been harder for me to be mock angry with you, when in reality I wanted to cheer and celebrate a mission well done. I went to Cas immediately after and told him my idea. Cas fell in love with it, and… here we are.”

Dean turned his suspicious glare towards Cas, who could only shrug in false innocence at the accusation being pointed towards him.

“A few days ago, I told you I was taking Cas to the tattoo shop to get a devil’s trap tattooed on,” Sam said. “That was partly true – he did get the devil’s trap, don’t worry, Dean. What we didn’t tell you was that we got another piece commissioned, too. Cas? You wanna show him?”

Dean tore his eyes away from Sam’s barely contained glee, turning to Cas with eyebrows raised in anticipation. He watched as Cas began meticulously rolling up the sleeve of his left arm, pushing the shirt up further and further until Dean could see-

A handprint. Right there on his shoulder, the exact same place where Castiel’s handprint was on his shoulder, was a very detailed, very realistic looking scar of a handprint. And not just any handprint – his handprint.

“There’s been a reason I’ve been wearing long-sleeved shirts,” Castiel told him. “You did say you wanted your own ‘Property of Dean Winchester’ sign.”

“You…” Was all Dean could get out before his body took over, standing up from his chair and reaching out a hand to place it over the handprint. Castiel winced at the contact, since the tattoo was still fresh and raw, but didn’t shy away from Dean’s touch. Dean could only marvel at the way his hand perfectly fit over the mark, proving that it truly was his handprint. “You didn’t have to do this, Cas…”

“I know,” Castiel replies, a warm smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But I wanted to.”

Dean turned to his brother, shuffling past a few chairs to pull him into his arms with a few choked words. “Good job, brother,”

“Glad you like it,” Sam replied, thumping him on his back before pulling away from the hug. “Was kinda worried you’d figure out what was going on when you left the handprint on the canvas.”

“Nah, you didn’t have to worry about that,” Dean said. “I was too caught up on a job well done of ticking you off.”

* * *

It’s approaching sunrise by the time the last of the guests had left. The library had been converted once again shortly after dinner at Garth’s demands to create a dance floor – which everyone quickly agreed to on account of the booze flowing through their veins. Dean and Cas were all but content to watch everyone make a fool of themselves on the dance floor, smiles wide with pride as Claire manages to drag Jack onto the dance floor to join her and Kaia.

There was one stipulation Dean had, though; he refused to have his first dance with Cas in front of everyone else. Not because he’s scared of how everyone will judge him for his dancing skills (okay, maybe a little of that), but because… he wanted that moment to be between just him, and Cas.

Cas looked exhausted, and Dean couldn’t blame him one bit. If he was in the same boat as he was, then he didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, either. His hair was all ruffled from one too many drunken affectionate rubs from Sam, his bowtie undone and hanging loose around his neck, staring out into the dimly lit library from his seat with half-asleep eyes.

He looked just as stunning as when he walked up the aisle.

“Hey, angel,” Dean says as he stands in front of him, holding out a hand for him to take. “Care for a dance?”

Despite how tired Cas looked, his eyes still lit up at Dean’s request. Dean smiled tenderly at him as Cas’s hand fit snuggling into his own, leading him towards the center of the room. Their hands remained clasped, hanging loosely to their sides as the two swayed on the spot. It probably looked ridiculous considering there was no music playing, but neither of them cared much. They didn’t need the music.

Dean let his eyelids fall closed as Cas’s head rested against his, brushing his thumb against the cool metal ring wrapped around Cas’s ring finger. “Step three, Cas,” Dean whispered against his lips, squeezing Cas’s hand in his.

“Step three,” Castiel repeated gently. “So… what’s next?”

Dean opened his eyes back up, looking to Cas with a small smile before leaning down to place a soft kiss on his lips. “We’ve got the whole rest of our lives to figure out ‘what’s next’, Cas. Whatever that may be… wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

* * *

As it turns out, life does go by fast when you’re not fighting for it every damn day.

One of the benefits to living in the bunker was the lack of bills. Not having to pay rent, or mortgage, or electricity, gas, water, heating, Internet, and more bills than he’s probably aware of meant that, between the two, their savings account built up surprisingly quick. Dean had more money on his account than he had ever had on his life, and before long, another little (by which he means huge) idea popped into his head.

He didn’t bring up the idea to Cas until about a year after they were married. Mostly due to one huge piece of news from Sam that Eileen was pregnant.

Well, the news didn’t technically come from Sam. Dean had overheard them talking about it one night, trying to find a way to bring up to him and Cas that Sam was planning to go back to Stanford to finish up his law degree. Made sense; having a well-paying job with a steady income was a better way to go about raising a kid in the bunker.

So, on the day Sam and Eileen finally gathered up the courage to announce the pregnancy and upcoming move, he and Cas were able to one-up them by showing them the deeds to a little property up in Oregon.

The house was fixer-upper for sure and led to many an argument between them. But that was okay. They had gotten pretty good at recovering from arguments after all this time. No matter how big of a falling out, it was typically the very next day that one of them would have cooled off and be bringing some kind of peace offering (typically a slice of pie from that fantastic family-run bakery for Dean, and a jar of this organic, way too expensive but it makes him happy, honey for Cas).

Besides, Dean could see the true beauty the house held the first time he saw the listing. It was practically crumbling apart, its wooden sidings rotting with what was once likely a beautiful blue paint now discolored and peeling away. But the house itself was set upon a beautiful lake within a patch of woods, not too far away from the nearby town that they were “in the middle of nowhere”, but enough so that they were away from prying eyes of the stereotypical American neighborhood.

There was even a little wooden dock practically on their backyard, where the two of them sat many a time, enjoying the warm summer evenings. Miracle especially liked the dock for diving into the water – typically whilst Dean was fishing, scaring any nearby fish away and pretty much ruining any chance of him getting a catch.

They had just finished the last restorations on the home when Eileen and Sam welcomed their son into the world. Dean thought he'd be pretty good at keeping it together, but the damn kid looked so much like Sammy did when he was a baby that he had to Dean Jr over to Cas when his vision became too filled with tears to see.

Getting to watch that kid grow was one of the best parts of the summers. It was their tradition; every summer vacation, Sam and Eileen would drop Dean Jr off at theirs to spend the entirety of the summer. Being the ‘cool uncle’ meant that the kid wanted to do everything that Dean did, leading to many evenings out at the garage shop, keeping the kid up much too late into the night as he teaches him everything he knows.

Life was good. Better than good, actually. Especially when, if you asked twenty years old Dean where he thought he’d be twenty years on, his answer would be “as a pile of ashes for the past twenty years.”

And he had genuinely believed that. Every day waking up in the hunter's life, he had wondered if it would be his last. Could you blame him? Too many risks, too many opportunities for something to go wrong.

It was funny that, as he got older, his view on death changed.

Back then, on that terrible day, left skewered like a kebab, the concept of death scared him. And it wasn’t like that was particularly a new thing. Sure, he had long since accepted that he was going to die young and bloody, but that didn’t make the idea or the lights going out forever terrifying.

He had actually realized that day that he wasn’t ready to accept it. After all that had happened, it had felt like something in their lives had changed. Dying that way... it didn’t seem fair. He felt like he deserved a chance to live the life he never got to, that he had so many years ahead of him to look forward to, and it was all just... taken away from him.

Now, nearly forty years after that day... he sees death differently. He’s lived that life, and lived it well. He's tired, both in body and mind, and whilst the first half of his life was filled with pain, misery, and the occasionally good moments, the last half of his life and been filled with nothing but happiness; of family and love.

He could still vividly remember the day they had to put Miracle down. She had been slowing down for a while, the gray in her muzzle spreading more and more, her eyes getting cloudier and cloudier. Even though he knew she was at that point where her life was more pain than happiness, that she would be going someplace much better... it was hard to let go. He supposed he wasn’t exactly mourning on her behalf, for her loss, but for the way her loss would impact their life.

It had been that evening, as Cas tearfully began collecting her bed and chew toys to put away in storage, that Dean truly began to take notice of the gray that had begun sneaking through his hair. They were getting older, there was no doubt about that. He had had the thought, perhaps a little morbid, about which one of them would go first.

Dean had bet on himself for that one. For one, Cas was technically younger than him, physically. Two, Jimmy took care of his body much better than Dean had. Sure, hunting keeps you physically fit, but all those fights, and being thrown against walls, tend to take their toll on the human body. Perhaps the drink would catch up to him, all those years drowning his liver in toxins. Hell, maybe he'd even clog an artery after countless takeouts and greasy diner foods.

He lost the bet.

It had happened on one of their daily morning walks.

It had been a beautiful day, all things considered. The November frost that covered the fallen leaves had only just begun to melt under the early morning sunrise, making their already slow walk all that much slower.

The walks had become more and more difficult the past few months. For the both of them, in fact. His wrinkled hands seem to shake atop his cane with every step – something he never thought he’d say in his youth; he had a damn cane – and every step they took was cautious and calculated, considering the fact that one wrong step, one small fall, would more than likely result in something being broken.

But it was Cas who seemed to be struggling that little bit more. It was Cas who had a harder time catching his breath, sucking in deep lungful’s of air like he couldn’t quite get enough. It was Cas who, just as they were stepping off the small sandy shore of the lake and rounding towards home, suddenly collapsed to his knees onto the cold ground as he held onto Dean.

And that’s when Dean knew it was time.

It was his heart, believe it or not. Not an angel blade through the chest, or a Vamp’s teeth sinking into his throat, or a Were’s claws ripping him open. His heart was simply too old. Too tired. It was failing – and it was the best type of death either of them could have asked for.

Cas passes away peacefully one late evening that same November, propped up in a comfortable hospital bed, surrounded by those who love him. There’s no fear in his eyes as goes, no overwhelming panic that has him tugging out the cannula in his nose, no pain – the drugs the doctors had pumping into him through his IV line made sure of that. He just smiles up at them with tired eyes as a frazzled, gray-haired Sam Winchester keeps a hand on his best friends’ arm, the other wrapped around a similarly frail-looking Eileen and their not so young son, anymore.

And then, just before he goes… Castiel’s gaze fixates on one person. He only has eyes for his husband by his side, staring into emerald green eyes that remained as young as the Dean Winchester he fell in love with. Dean’s brittle fingers were intertwined with Cas’s as he struggled through his last breaths, squeezing Cas’s hand as tightly as his old bones would let him.

“It’s okay, Cas. We did it. We made it…” Dean rasps down to him, leaning forward to place one last shaky kiss on his husband's head as Castiel’s eyes begin to droop, the machine by his head blaring and beeping numbers that Dean ignores. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll be right behind you.”

Dean follows him no more than two weeks later.

Castiel had only just begun settling into Heaven when Dean arrived.

Dean had woken up from his ‘endless sleep’, a smile of relief playing across his face as he took in the familiar sights around him. He was home. Right there in front of him stood the house they had made with blood, sweat, and tears. Every little detail that made it theirs; from the small scratches in the wood where Miracle had been digging at the ground below to the tiny crack in the attic window where Dean Jr had ‘wanted to test how high he could throw a football’.

He didn’t even bother knocking on the door. He already knew where Cas was.

Walking around the side of the house, towards the lake, is where he spotted Cas. Cas was waiting, stood at the end of the dock with a damn fishing rod in hand, looking as young as he was when he was brought back to life. Dean would like to think that he kept a respectable pace as he moved towards Cas, but in reality, he knows he all but sprinted to him.

The second he was within reach, he knocked the stupid damn fishing pole out of Cas’s hands and threw his arms around him, grateful for the way his trick knee no longer ached with the movement. Cas dropped the fishing pole without a second thought, returning the tight hold Dean had on him with a bemused chuckle. “Dean, it’s only been two weeks.”

“That’s two weeks too long,” Dean replies, meaning it full-heartedly. “Told you I’d follow you, didn’t I?”

“Your mother stopped by,” Castiel tells him as he pulls away from Dean’s embrace. “They have a big surprise party waiting for you at the roadhouse.”

“I think you kinda ruined the surprise there, Cas,” Dean said, taking a seat on the edge of the dock and let his feet dangle over the water, holding out a hand for Cas to join him.

“I think I’ve had enough surprises for one lifetime,” Castiel said, accepting Dean’s offer and dropping down next to him. “I would have thought you’d want to visit them straight away?”

Dean smiled at that, looking away from the stillness of the lake to his husband. “We’ve got a lot of time for that, Cas. Besides, I wanna start enjoying Step Four.”

Dean wrapped an arm around Cas, tugging him towards him until Cas was leaning against his side, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. Castiel closed his eyes in content, letting the warmth of Heaven’s sun wash over his face whilst the warmth of Dean soaked into his side. “What’s Step Four?”

“Kinda obvious, isn’t it?” Dean asked. “Enjoy the rest of eternity with you.”

#destiel fanfiction #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fix it fic #fix it fic #castiel/dean winchester #casdean #supernatural spoilers #season 15 spoilers

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katsukikitten · 5 years ago

Text

Lust and a whiskey neat

"Really you're going to see that crack head who dyes his hair fire truck red?" Your friend asks applying a hefty layer of lip gloss before she poses for a few hundred selfies for her Insta. She angles the camera down and it captures her tits and pouty mouth.

"Tacky really." She says as the sound of her nails click on her phone screen. She's probably sending it to six different guys first before posting it to the gram with some basic bitch caption.

"He isn't tacky." You roll your eyes as you apply your eyeliner on thickly. It's black as your heart and as sharp as a knife. Perfect to match your all black aesthetic

"He's a pro hero you know." You look at her a moment in your giant shared mirror staring at your complete opposite side. She was always about looks, caring solely about catching a man's attention.

Whether it be good or bad as she smiles mischievouslly at her matte pink phone, with a little cellphone charm swinging as she replies furiously.

The white and red catch your eye and you smirk, applying your mascara.

"You think Todoroki's red hair is tacky too then?" She gives you a rare look at her real eyes far from the normal doe look she gives guys. It is sharp and unforgiving, tactful as she speaks.

"Please Todoroki-sama is far from tacky." She wants to hold your gaze but you're too busy making a little heart beside your eye, she chooses to admire herself. Wiggling in her too tight mauve pink dress, adjusting her tits to sit better. She smooths her long dark hair, her bright nails with a single rhinestone catch your eye.

"I'm not seeing him tonight. I'm working remember." You step back and look yourself over. Adjusting your low cut shirt where it shows just enough cleavage for extra tips from guys but not too much that women will not tip you at all. You slide your cellphone into your ripped black jean shorts.

"Besides he is just a customer who comes in and sits at my bar every now and again after a long shift."

She gives you a pointed look, texting without looking.

"Oh so every night for the past month is every now and again?" She rolls her eyes, "Then I only talk to about six guys at a time every now and again."

You laugh at her bluntness. It's true she always kept men on the fringes, never fully letting her guard down. Plus why would she when she was the top escort at Madam's.

"You know you'd make more at work if you escorted someone." She looks you over, you're both naturally pretty. Having this sort of magnetism about you, "Like a lot more."

She eyes your boobs and ass, mentally comparing them and making a satisfied face.

"I couldn't balance it as well as you." You admit.

"You're fucking right about that!" She snaps a selfie, pulling her dress past her nipple but hiding it behind the fisted fabric, "But you're lucky. You're the type of girl that one guy will pay to be exclusively theirs for fucking life."

She smirks as her phone pings in reply.

"But..." You hesitate as you lace your black converse, Madam has asked if you'd like to try, that if you wanted you could be more than the bar keep and the bouncer rolled in one. Most of the girls were quirkless or cared so little for their power that majority of them were beginning to forget how to use them.

Your friend didn't bother to even learn how to control hers, though her power must be difficult to aim as she has always had fortune, Lady Luck on her side if you will.

Even getting out of being arrested when the officer watched the crime with his own eyes.

"Akime..."

"No you don't have to fuck any of the customers. Madam prefers that you don't." She holds your gaze, "I'm serious."

"Well what I was going go say is get your fucking shoes we're gonna be late."

"I'm never late as nothing starts until I arrive."

Its slow even for a Thursday but that doesn't stop you from pouring a whiskey neat and setting it at the bar stool off to your right.

Like clock work the hero comes in, still dressed in his uniform, though there isnt much of one for him to wear before he sits in his usual stool.

"You remembered." He smiles but the joy stays out of his eyes. You bite the inside of your lip, this is abnormal for him and you should know cause you can read body language as if it were a simple book. You're a bar tender it's a prerequisite. Talking and sounding like you care equals big tips.

"What's eating you tonight?" You ask, deft hands shining glasses, setting them up neatly for the order that's going to come from table two. Ruby eyes stare into the brown liquid that he swirls. He bites his lip, debating on telling you.

"I've uh... I've got to find a date for this big gala thing." He downs the whole glass and you blink.

"Well don't look so downtrodden, you're in the perfect place. Our hybrid bar is for meeting people or escorts." You gesture behind him and he looks over his slumped shoulders spying a too tight pink dress, he's had his eye on someone at this place.

"We've got booze and bitches." You laugh at your own joke and he turns to give you a softened look.

"No these women are so kind, far from bitches." You refill his drink off record as an apology, "You're right I am in the perfect place with stunning women on short notice but..."

"But?" You turn to grab the top shelf tequilla, he hardly let's his eyes linger over your sculpted legs. He looks over his shoulder again, as if debating. He swallows his drink whole again, slamming the glass down.

"But I have to get a date for a friend too." He looks crestfallen at the bottom of his empty glass. You refill it before continuing your specialty 'lust' margaritas.

"Well we have a variety of women here to choose from. Bring him in, he's bound to see someone his type." You says as you place the blood oranges just right on the rim of the glass careful not to disrupt the red salt and pink sugar.

"That's the problem he has no type!" He sighs frustrated, "Hasn't for as long as I've known him. Work is his only type."

"Oh he's a virgin then." You wipe the base of the glass before setting them on a tray for Momo, "Yikes."

She grabs the tray with a smile as she sashays to her usual customer. The red head laughs aloud.

"Far from!" He chuckles into his drink, "He's slept with lots of women."

"Oh then what's the problem?"

"That it's a 'date', pretend or not he's awful at PDA. Our PR manager says we need this exposure. A little love drama." His red eyes become puppy dog big as he looks at you as if you have the answers.

Akime makes her fake laugh loudly, her nails catching your eye as she makes her hand signal to ready her drinks. You make quick work on a lust margarita and two shots of vodka. You slice another blood orange as she sways her hips your way.

"Are they almost ready Y/N?" Her tone is all sugar but only because someone is at the bar, she mock gasps as if she didn't see him. Leaning over a bit to give him a better view of her overflowing breasts.

"And who might this be, Y/N?" She smiles, eyes flickering to you.

"Oh ah...actually I don't think he's ever introduced himself. I only know his hero name. Red Riot." You say sheepish for the first time in your life.

"Kirishima Eijirou." He says gently. You see Akime's plan of adding him to her throng of followers set in motion.

"Ah your red hair is so cool!" She says fingering the strands gently. You inwardly roll your eyes.

"Oh thank you. Not as cool as your Louboutins." He smiles a sharp toothed smile, you notice a dusting of pink on Akime's cheeks. Could she always fake a blush like that or...or was that real?

"What's your name?" His voice is butter smooth. She blinks at him wildly, noting that his eyes are, and have been, firmly locked with hers.

"Akime. You sure know your shoes."

"Your Prada dress is gorgeous too." He offers his sharp smile again and this time the blush deepens just a hue, "But you could wear a potato sac and it still wouldn't distract me from your stunning eyes."

"M..my eyes?" You cannot hide the surprise on your face, she has never stammered before. Kirishima nods as the man from her table calls out, his beady eyes glued to her ass.

"Akime dear.."

"Coming!" She sings back, blowing him a kiss before she almost glares at the bar's new ruby eyed patron.

He doesn't watch her go, a feat you've never seen any man take. Instead he sighs into his drink, mind clouded with worry.

"Well he's bound to like someone here." Your eyes gravitate to Madame's highest earner who also just happens to be your roommate. Kirishima follows your line of sight, watching the woman in pink take a shot.

"Yea...someone."

Your night with the red head is filled with odd conversation as he tells you all about his hero work.

Honestly you welcome any conversation that isn't about a sad broken marriage like the sob stories you normally get.

You laugh loudly when he tells you a blunder that Chargebolt did on a job and how angry Ground Zero got.

You do not notice how his ruby red eyes shine when you belt with joy. The clock tower near by chimes, singing its praises for closing time.

"Oh ah I'm sorry Kirishima-san but it seems its quiting time." You smile sweetly as Akime makes her way to the back room for her jacket.

"Ah will you ladies be safe to walk home this late at night?" He asks, voice suddenly sober with concern. You giggle , Akime returns from the backroom quickly in her pink faux fur jacket eyes narrowed to slits. She slips her hand onto his strong arm, pressing her glossed lips to his ear earning a huge blush.

"Y/N could kick your ass and I would be happy to watch. Please leave fire engine." She is no longer wearing her persona, something you've never seen her show a male before. He blinks, stunned at the sudden switch before he turns to her with a wide smile.

"I knew you that dumb doe look wasn't real." He squeezes her hand to his chest with his arm, this time leaning his lips to her ear, "Real men actually enjoy a woman with intellect. I believe you've been holding the attention of too many boys"

He gives her a cat like smile before stopping at the front door.

"See you tomorrow ladies. Same time." And with that he leaves with a wink.

&&&&

8:15pm comes soon rather than later and you've got a whiskey neat lined up in his usual seat, another glass pending a drink as you're expecting his friend but you do not want to assume.

Kirishima waves with a sharp toothed smile as he walks in followed by an extremely grumpy looking ash blonde.

You smile as they take their seats, except Kirishima sits a seat down from his usual, putting him on the end of the bar where he faces the length of the bar but can turn his head to the side to see the low couches.

You swallow as the angry blonde takes his seat, scarlet eyes glowering at the drink.

"This shit must be for you, shitty hair." He says as he slides the whiskey neat as if it were poison. Kiri retorts with a smile before his ruby eyes settle over the low couches. You follow his gaze to see it settled on *her* couch. You sigh turning to the agitated blonde.

"What can I get you?" You're cheery and offer a bright smile to which he sneers, you offer a drink menu when he does not answer you.

"Why the fuck did you drag me here?" The young hero asks, dropping his giant and in your opinion gaudy, grenade vambraces. They hit the floor with enough weight that all the glass behind the bar rattles. You send a nasty glare that goes unnoticed as he stares at Kirishima.

"Ah well..." He scratches the back of his head as he sips on his drink.

"He's trying to find you a date. Which to me already seems next to impossible considering how rude you are." You fake a smile at the end as you add "Now do you want anything to drink or no?"

The blonde glares your way for the first time tonight.

"I want a drink that will make you less of a bitch." He growls and you feel your temper flair.

"Oh so sorry, I can't make one of those for you, just like I can't make a drink that will make you less of a fucking asshole. But maybe a vodka Sprite will shut you the fuck up." You snap, pouring his drink with speed before slamming it down on the bar to attend to the incoming Friday night crowd.

You pour hundreds of drinks in the span of just a few hours as you submerge yourself in your work. Serving the drinks that are ready for tables by the edge of the bar where Kirishima sits and taking new orders from waiting customers all the while a set of scarlet eyes watch.

Watch you flirt.

Watch you bend over just enough for guys to get a better view of your tits earning a better tip.

They watch you smile and it causes his heart to race, especially when you share it with another man hinting at an innuendo.

Through all that you still manage to refill Kiri's and that damn ash blonde's glass, though you give him something different after each drink.

You set the house special of Lust before him and he stares at the red sunset colored drunk.

"What the hell is this?" He asks gruffly, the first words to you since your comment.

"Lust." You smile at him, a real smile as you are delighting in his slight discomfort, "But maybe I should make you a drink called love instead..."

"No, I told you that my services don't go that far."Akime laughs though you know she's holding back rage, "Please I enjoy your company and don't want to ask you to leave."

You don't catch the first que as the blonde yells in your direction.

"I said no!" And then she giggles but his hands try to pry her crossed legs open.

Kirishima notices, a hot rage burning in his stomach as he picks Akime up gently, placing her on her two feet in her prada shoes behind him before he leans in real close to the mans face.

"I think you should get your hearing checked. The beautiful lady said no, not convince me." His voice is dark and the drunk man rears his fist, his gaudy rings catching the light attracts your eye and you jump over the bar.

You didn't do your research on Red Riot, so you wouldn't have known that the man swinging would have broken his fist against a stone face instead you slam your own fist so hard into greasy skin that two gold teeth and a string of blood fly out.

Unfortunately for you, you've just hit a pretty notorious boss and his goons rise from the surrounding couches. You smile as they lunge your way.

Most of them are easy one punch K.Os, your fist meeting flesh and making that satisfying crack.

Your favorite sound as you feel the orbital bone give way under the force of your fist, power singing through you before they can even use their quirk.

You don't notice the last one coming out of the bathroom, his eyes wide as he stares at his boss lying facedown with a bloodied golden suit. The ox like man charges for you like a bull sees red.

You're turning too late to counter or even block the on coming bear paw. As you brace yourself for what should be a sliding impact you feel a muscular arm wrap around your thick waist as a a powerful palm catches the meaty fist. A series of pops dance along his tight forearm as steam hisses from his palm.

"Tsk. You're really starting to piss me off fatty." His eyes glow red as his tone turns dark

"G...Ground Zero!" He stammers, "Y..you can't sc..scare me."

"Wasn't trying to, tiny." He tightens his grip around his fist before twisting the baemeth's wrist the wrong way. Cracking echos through the quiet room as the man falls to his knees.

The blonde squeezes your hip gently before letting go to walk forward and further damage the man. His snarl turning into a small manic smile. The man shakes beneath the hero. You pull the broad shouldered blonde from the man just to earn a glare.

"I was handling that." A growl, as the man cradles his wrist.

"Yea so well too." Sarcasm drips over every syllable, "Well enough you were planning to take a direct hit to the face."

"I. Had it. Under. Control." You bite out again pushing him, letting your temper heat your blood.

For whatever reason you HATED having a man come to your rescue.Mostly because anytime one of them did, they expected something. You feel the ghost of his hand on your hip, further fueling your rage.

Arrogant

Asshole

Is all you can think as he steps closer, looking down on you as your chests touch, forehead almost touching yours.

"Do you know what his nickname is?" A growl so dark your stomach twists and your muscles tense ready for a fight, "The bone crusher. Do you know why?"

You stare him in the face, starting to see the edges of your vision turn blood red.

"His quirk can shatter bones with just a flick of his fingers. You're lucky I know how to counteract the force," Another growl, "But of course you wouldn't have known what is quirk was because you're too busy flashing your tits for fives."

You see completely in red as your first moves on it's own accord right into his pretty, arrogant asshole mouth. Causing him to slide into your precious bar, wood splinters beneath his weight. He spits blood onto the shining wood top.

But you aren't done there, no you were in full on berserk mood as you jump into the air to get a more intense impact because right now you want to see those kissable lips and those burning eyes bloodied.

"ENOUGH!" You are frozen mid air before you fall to your knees powerless as madame's graying hair stands stick straight. Kirishima and Katuski share a look as they watch the older woman reminding them of their old Sensei.

"A round of free drinks on the house. Mina!" Madame calls, the pink skinned girl bows.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Get started on those orders and make sure they are delicious drinks please darling." She's all sugar before she turns to you, "My office now! All four of you!"

You struggle to stand as your power has been sapped for at least ten minutes.

You feel oddly human and you do not like it as your body seems to weigh too much even for your powerfully toned legs. A busted lip blonde offers you his hand with a scoff and when you push it away he growls, placing his arms beneath your triceps pulling you to your feet before he shoves his hands in his black pants.

He spits blood on the floor again as he follows Kirishima who is gently guiding Akime to the office with a large palm on her mid back.

You and Akime take the two seats across from her oversized desk in her cramped office as the two men stand behind you. She smooths her hair down before setting her sights on you.

"What the hell happened out there?!" A shrill yell, "That's a high ranking thug you've hit out there and do you know who that is?"

You follow her finger over your shoulder and huff angrily. His arms are crossed and his scarlet eyes are averted.

"No ma'am. I do not."

"Well you should!" She slaps a newspaper on the desk for you to see, you peer down at the blonde who, even though you'd hate to admit, looks cool as hell as he crouched, just dodging a punch and already mid counter.

"He's tied for number one!" She slams the paper with her wrist for emphasis, "And you bruised his handsome face!"

"I..."

"No, no excuses. Now Red Riot and Ground Zero what brings you two here today?" Her dark eyes slide over the built men. Kirishima laughs, scratching the back of his head.

"Well we need dates for this gala...." He says honestly as the aura from behind you goes from pissed to seething, you can almost hear the popping sound of his quirk.

"You're in the right place." Madame smiles, "Did you have any ladies in mind?"

His ruby eyes fall to your friend who is sitting with her hands in her lap, fighting mixed emotions about tonight. Though to the naked eye she seems relaxed, bored even.

She inspects her matte pink nails to further emphasize her facade.

"Well only if she agrees to it." He says softly before meeting the gaze of the older woman.

"Akime will accept. Now love what is your external rate at these days?" Madame asks, plucking a pen from her chaotic desk with ease.

"250 an hour, and additional 50 an hour if there is physical contact. Kisses on the cheek are 20 bucks and kisses on the lips are 55 a piece." Akime says as she reaches for her phone to text idly.

Kirshima feels his soul leave his body as Katsuki's eyes narrow on his supposed friend.

"And for your friend?"

Kirishima's eyes shift to you wholly noticed by Madame.

"I'm not sure who he would pick but as far as her prices I can't..."

"You won't have to. I will lend these two ladies to you free of charge as an apology for the rough night Y/N has put you through." She scribbles on paper.

"That is very generous but.." Eji starts only to be interrupted once again.

"There are no buts in this conversation. I will allow you these two women for the whole evening. Return them at midnight or let me know other wise should they somehow fall in love with your boyish charm and his brutish way of showing affection." She does not look up from her notes.

"Th..thank you madame." Kirishima bows as Katsuki sucks his teeth before they both leave with her business card in hand to provide details for later. The second the two men leave you find yourself and Akime speaking over one another.

"He's such a fucking brute. Why did you pick me? He should take Urakaka san or one of the other hmm I dont know actually escorts."

"Madame I cannot be SEEN with firetruck and especially not for FREE?! Ugh and it matches his sparkling eyes and it's kinda cuu... really ugly madam I cannot go on like this. I'm being punished. I was the victim here!"

"SILENCE BOTH OF YOU!" You both flinch for fear of her power stripping quirk. It even makes the quirkless feel weak.

"I'm still going to pay you both. Just not your external rates Akime. I'm going to pay your normal rate doubled as with you Y/N." She finally holds eye contact switching between you two, "Do you know what this will do for the escort services and the bar? Hero exposure will have this place skyrocketing, we won't even have to advertise that is our establishment as everyone knows where Akime works what with her large male following. And with the world renowned drinks you've made Y/N everyone will be all over this joint. And hell Akime maybe you'll even catch the eye of Todoroki."

You both stare dumbfounded.

"But.." You say in unison.

"But you both need to leave before I make these a series of dates."

#bakugou x reader #kirishima #kirishima ejirou #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #bnha kacchan #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha au #bnha kirishima #bnha todoroki

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pbandjesse · 4 years ago

Text

I honestly cant believe today it over. The last couple days just really flew by. It was a good couple days but this just means I start my new job tomorrow! Wild.

I did get to see the moon last night. The way the moon path goes I can lay in bed around 11 and see the moon for almost an hour. Its great.

And I did sleep well. The extra hour of sleep was very nice. And while I didnt wake up at 715 like I wanted, waking up at 9 allowed me to feel a lot better. Though I was sad I only vaguely remembered saying goodbye to James.

I got up and got showered and dressed. My skin is looking great and I only have a few more days of the one. So I wont have to shower so much anymore. I will probably still take the double showers some days, but its a little exhausting honestly.

I felt cute and good today though. I liked my outfit. I love wearing tights. It was rainy and grey and I was just in a good mood.

I spent the morning playing animal crossing and starting to post on the new store instagram. I am pretty excited. I have already made 3 sales. Jess may back out of the whole thing. There have been some technical issues and she just doesnt really want to deal with it. But I am having a good time at least. I am going to post a few things every day for the next few weeks and make things as I go. But so far I have had great feedback.

I had a good time playing animal crossing too because its a new month! Last night when James got home we played together for the first time in a while and doing all the halloween stuff was fun. Handing out candy and things. But now halloween is over, so I am picking up most of the pumpkins, in favor of the new mushrooms you can grow. I am going to leave the decorations up for a while longer as we collect more christmasy things. But I am excited by new things so thats pretty great.

Around 11 I decided to go for a drive. It was raining but not to bad. But of course as soon as I left the house it started pouring. I went back upstairs to get a raincoat and then I was off.

As I waited at the light to get on the highway, a homeless man asked for change. I did not have change so I gave him the $5 bill I had and he was super nice to me. We talked for a minute while the light was red. Someone had shot him with a paintball gun last night. I felt so bad. Then he asked me where I was from because I had an accent! I always think thats funny when people say that. James says I have a dialect for sure, and its my diction as well. Neat.

I went out to savers. Driving was a bit scary. Despite all the work on the car, the little traction light is still coming on. Ugh. But I made it to the thrift store in one piece.

I had a nice time walking around there. I got an amazing lobster rug and a piece of fabric. But the best find was for James. I finally found slippers for him! Except they arent just slippers, they are grey name brand Uggs. For $10. And they fit him! Amazing. So proud of myself for that one.

I wandered around for a while though. Enjoyed my time out. Not as many weird things today. But a nice walk around.

When I was done there I went and got lunch across the street. Continued to listen to a podcast. And then went to get some snack based groceries.

That was a nice time. Thinking about things to put in my lunch this week. Had fun looking at the christmas stuff they are starting to put out.

I was only very annoyed when I went to my car. Because the cart I was using locked its wheels about 30 feet from my far!! I was still in the parking lot!! Stupid cart. I had to put it in the little cart shelter and then carry all my stupid things to the car. In the rain. So then I was both wet and hot.

I drove home. Had some issues because of 3 separate accidents that had 83 very very backed up. Making single lanes each time, but of course it was not in the same lane.

But I still got home soon enough.

I brought in some of my stuff. Left the heavy things in there. And did some putting away. Some cleaning. Some playing with sweetp. Helping Jess with some google issues and working on some store stuff. I got a little upset by a comment she made about how she would have given up a while ago if I wasnt so excited about the store. And like. Yeah Ive felt that from you. I told her she didnt need to do it with me, but she said she has made a lot of masks already so shes going to. But like. It makes it hard for me to feel good about being excited about something when someone says stuff like that. So I dont know what will happen on her end but I am going to keep going and try to not let it bother me.

I decided to go for a walk. I went over to walgreens and got nail polish. And when I got home James was here! Hello boyfriend.

We hung out for a while. And then he made me a taco. Except when he heated up the tortilla, sweetP jumped on the counter and melted his whiskers and got his face singed. I was so upset. He doesnt seem hurt at all but his face was all curly and his chin and chest are burnt. I trimmed it a bit and cleaned him off with a wet paper towel. Im more upset when he is for sure. But still.

James felt really bad. But it wasnt anyone's fault. It all just happened really fast.

After dinner James had trivia. I decided not to participate this week. Instead I decided to cut my hair. I put it in two pig tails and chopped off 4 inches of hair. I got a cute bob now. Very nice for the fall.

Once I finished cleaning up my hair I took a bath. Relaxed. It was a nice time.

I laid in bed and watched videos for a while. Then went to sit with James as the game was finishing and Lane recited Dante's amazing parody poem. And we showed off our moths. It was a goofy time.

Now I am in bed. I am cold. James is in the shower. I am going to put a differnt sweater on and try to get to sleep quick. Because I have work tomorrow!! I dont know if I will actually have any kids. But my plan is to get to know my coworkers and set up some art bins for the kids so they dont have to share tools. I hope we eventually get some kids but not having any tomorrow will be alright. I got plans.

I hope you all sleep well tonight. Take care of yourselves and eachother. Goodnight!

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 5 years ago

Text

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E3; Chapter Three, The Pollywog - [Pt. 4 - FINAL PART]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Dustin adopts a strange new pet, and Eleven grows increasingly impatient. A well-meaning Bob urges Will to stand up to his fears while Y/n’s powers grow stronger, bringing to light many questions about her past.

A/n: HOLY SLEEP DEPRIVATION, BATMAN. I wrote most of this at like 3 am. Ok, now THIS is a long chapter. I would advise you to take some breaks but I don't know how many of you will actually listen so... yeah, happy reading and count this your daily reminder to drink some water! :D

||3rd Person POV||

El marched through the woods. She had been walking for several hours. Finally, she reached the edge of the woods, and her attention was drawn to the sounds of giggling.

She followed the noise and found just up the hill was a mother pushing her child on the swing.

"Pump your feet," The mother encouraged, smiling.

El couldn't help but feel saddened by this. More memories of Hopper came flooding back.

[FLASHBACK]

"I would feel so sad if I was a disappointment to her,"

Night had fallen and El had been tucked into bed. She listened intently as Hopper read Anne of Greene Gables to her, much like he did for his daughter before her passing.

"because she didn't live very long after that, you see. She died of a fever when I was just three months old. I do wish she'd lived long enough for me to remember calling her mother. I think it would be so sweet to say 'mother.'"

"Do I have a mother?" El asked timidly.

"Yeah, of course you have a mother. You couldn't really be born without one."

"Where is she?"

"She..." Hopper's face fell. "She's not around anymore."

"Gone?"

There was a pain in his eyes as he told her this.

"Yeah."

El's eyes began to water, and Hopper felt a weight on his heart.

"I'm sorry about that, kid." He said sincerely.

There was a moment of silence, and Hopper continued as El quietly wiped the tears from her eyes.

[END OF FLASHBACK]

"Is your mom here?"

El was still staring at the new empty swing set, lost in the memory.

"Sweetie?"

El tore her gaze away to the mom who now stood before her, holding her child's hand. A concerned look was etched on her face.

"School." El croaked. "Where is school?"

The mother only looked more concerned and confused. Reluctantly, she replied.

"The school? It's, uh... it's about a mile that way. At least." She gestured.

She offered El a kind smile.

"Where are your parents?"

El shifted her attention to the swing and the sound of chains rattling grabbed the attention of the younger girl.

"Look, Mommy, look."

The woman looked behind her to see she swing her daughter had previously occupied was now wrapping itself around the structure of the swing set.

Astonished, she looked back to El, only nobody was there. She had vanished.

+++

All Joyce could think about the rest of the day was those mean nasty boys.

The second she walked in the door, she went straight to the video camera. She recalled it being in Will's room. She threw open the door and scanned the messy room.

She recognized the device laying on Will's desk and she made a beeline for it.

After much turbulence and a confusing call with Bob, she got the tape hooked up to the TV and pressed play.

She saw a clip of Bob teaching the boys how to operate the camera. She frowned, as she looked at the buttons on the device. She found the fast forward button and pressed it, scanning the screen carefully. After a considerable amount of time, the camera shifted and was angled up at the sky.

She immediately pressed rewind and then play, right before the incident must have happened. It was the view of Y/n Henderson running after someone, Mike she gathered from her distant voice in the video. When sure enough, just as Bob had said, out of nowhere three teenagers in masks and makeup appeared.

"Watch it, Zombie Boy!" A boy dressed as a werewolf said, before disappearing.

"Trick or treat, freak!"

"Boo!"

As Joyce watched the tape, carefully trying to identify the boys, her face contorted in disgust. She could feel her blood boil at the sight.

By now the camera had fallen to the ground and was angled at the sky. For a moment nothing happened, that was until she heard a familiar voice.

"Will?" It was Y/n, and she sounded worried.

Joyce heard shuffling and then soon enough, Y/n came into view, and her voice rose as she yelled at the fleeting bullies. Her arms waving in her fit of anger.

"Hey, piss off! You leave him alone, you hear me? You leave him the fuck alone!"

Joyce never bothered to fight the small smirk that made its way onto her face. Those pricks had it coming to them. She reminded herself to thank Y/n later.

Her small moment of relief was immediately replaced with heartache when she heard Will begin to call out, frightened.

"Y/n! Mike!" She saw him wander carefully and cautiously into view.

Suddenly, she noticed a pause and then Will running away, followed by a very concerned Y/n.

The screen flickered ever so quickly and she paused the tape when she noticed the faint outline of something.

The screen flickered once more before it stopped. Her eyes caught on the mysterious invisible shape the camera had picked up. Something clicked in her head and she stared at the thin wispy outline in horror.

She jumped to her feet and ran to the kitchen. She ripped open one of the supply drawers and grabbed a sheet of parchment paper, and one of Will's crayons.

Joyce ran back to the television set and put it against the screen, and quickly traced it. When she finished, she knew she recognized the shape and ran it back to the table, comparing it to Will's drawing of the giant monster.

It was an exact match. And her worst fears had been realized.

||Reader's POV||

"This is the reason I was late for class," Dustin assured.

School had just ended, and Dustin, Max, Lucas and I were all gathered around Mr. Clarke's desk. Will and Mike hadn't joined us yet, they were still at their lockers and Will insisted he had to talk to Mike.

Dustin placed the trap on Mr. Clarke's desk, as he began explaining.

Mr. Clarke ran a hand over the closed trap.

"Pretty neat. These doors function?"

"Well, yeah, obviously. But it's not about the trap. It's what's inside. Now, this very well may change your perception of the world."

Mr. Clarke shrugged lightly.

"Consider my interest piqued."

"All right, first, let's just clarify that, this is my discovery, not yours."

Lucas began flailing his arms.

"Dustin, Jesus! Just show him!"

"I'm just trying to clarify--"

"Dustin!" Max insists.

"Okay, fine"

He reaches to open the trap, but before anything can happen the door swings open. Mike comes sprinting in, Will behind him.

"Stop!" Mike yells frantically.

"What is it? What's going on?" I ask.

"Nothing." Mike quickly squeezes in between me and Lucas and grabs the trap, holding it tightly to his chest. "I'm sorry, Mr. Clarke. It was just a stupid prank."

"What the hell are you doing?" Dustin asks angrily.

"I told him to stop. We need to go. Right now."

Max and I share an equally concerned look.

"Mike!" Dustin pleads.

"Right now!" Mike screams, sprinting back into the hall.

+++

Mike had dragged the original party back into the AV room, forcing us to leave Max outside.

"I'm really, really sorry Max. It should only take a minute." I quickly stepped back and explained to her.

The boys shut her out with no effort of explaining so once again, I was trying to undo some of the damage. Hoping she'd still want to be my friend.

"Wait, seriously Y/n?"

The guys were already shutting her out, and now I had to. I hated this.

"I know, I'm so sorry, but I wouldn't be doing this if wasn't absolutely necessary."

"Y/n!" Mike called from inside the AV room, and I huffed.

"I'm really sorry." I started to close the door, but then I met her eye and just before shutting it I lowered my voice. "Please trust me."

Before I had closed the door, she seemed to relax in the slightest. As if considering my words.

I walked over to stand next to Lucas and looked to each of them.

"You better make this quick..." Their expressions all shifted to that of concern at what I said next. "I have something I need to tell you too."

Now that we were all gathered around the trap, Mike caught us up.

Will had said he saw Dart last year. We were all trying to process this, and I guess some time had passed since Max began pounding on the door.

"Hello? Hello?"

I barely made out a sigh from the other side of the door.

"Guys, come on. Can I come in yet?"

I was about to reply when Mike answered her.

"No!"

I glared at Mike's behavior.

He rolled his eyes in response.

"I don't understand," Lucas said finally, ignoring our silent argument.

"What do you not understand?" Mike asked.

"Will saw something that looked like Dart last year?"

"Kind of, but there was no tail," Will answered timidly.

"But then he heard it yesterday. The exact same sound." Mike explained quickly.

"What, the screeching?" I ask.

"Doesn't matter, why didn't you tell us before?" Dustin asked.

"I wasn't sure," Will said quietly.

"So it's a coincidence," Dustin confirmed.

Mike countered. "Or not. What if when Will was stuck in the Upside Down, he somehow acquired True Sight?"

"Remind me what True Sight is again?" I asked.

"It gives you the power to see into the ethereal plane."

Lucas sighed and gestured for Dustin to continue. "Elaborate."

It clicked in my head.

"The Upside Down," I say, in shock.

"Exactly. Maybe these episodes that Will keeps having aren't really flashbacks at all. Maybe they're real. Maybe Will can somehow see into the Upside Down."

"So that would mean..." Lucas trailed off.

"Dart is from the Upside Down." Mike clarifies.

Dustin sighed heavily.

"We have to take him to Hopper," Lucas stated, and Mike quickly agrees.

Dustin, of course, jumped at the chance to defend Dart. "No way. If we take him to Hopper, Dart's as good as dead."

"Maybe he should be," Mike snapped.

I roll my eyes.

"How can you say that?" Dustin asks shocked.

I raise my hands, signaling them to stop.

"Guys, come on." I sigh and turn to Dustin. "Look, Dustin. It's sweet that you care about Dart. But you have to realize what's at stake here. This is exactly what I was talking about before, we don't know anything about him or what he is capable of."

"But that doesn't automatically mean that he's bad. Besides, we have a bond."

Mike scoffs. "A bond? Just because he likes nougat?"

"No, because he trusts me!"

"He trusts you?" Lucas asks slowly, sounding concerned.

"Yes, I promised I would take care of him," Dustin exclaimed.

Suddenly, the trap began to rattle violently and we all stepped back.

There was more pounding on the door.

"Guys, what's going on? Come on."

We could all hear Dart from inside the trap as it shook.

"Dustin, what the hell's wrong with him?" I asked, my pulse quickening.

"I-I don't know!" He stuttered.

The ghost trap shook so much it vibrated and then it was tipped on its side.

Mike grabbed the speaker from one of the radios and held it high, ready to strike.

Dustin threw his hand up, pointing at Mike.

"Don't hurt him." He warned.

"Only if he attacks," Mike argued, eyes never leaving the trap.

"Just open it already." Lucas urged.

Dustin reached for the attachment that opens the device, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he opens it.

We all stare in disbelief as Dart comes rolling out. He was twice his previous size, and several shades darker.

"Holy shit," Lucas stated, sounding disgusted.

Dart dragged himself along the desk. When he stopped, thin webs of skin where we had seen movement from earlier, were stretched out until they sprouted two new legs. And what looked like watered down jam splattered around the desk.

"Oh, my God," I mumble horrified, and sick to my stomach.

Everything went by all too fast after that.

"Oh, shit!" Lucas exclaimed, jumping back.

He looked in the direction of Lucas and me and screeched for the third time.

Mike launched at Dart, but Dustin interfered.

Dart, in an attempt to escape Mike, suddenly launched off the desk and right towards me not caring that I was in his way.

I scream.

The next thing I knew, my arms were outstretched in front of me, shielding myself and it almost felt as if a wave of body heat had rolled off me. Dart let out a painful screech and hit the edge of the desk before tumbling to the ground.

Everyone began yelling at once.

"Shit, Y/n! Did you just-?" Lucas screamed.

"I don't know!" I cried out, scrambling back. "That's kinda what I wanted to tell you guys about but I didn't know I could do that!" The words tumble out of my mouth quickly, in a weak attempt to explain as I scramble after Dart, the others after him too.

"Grab him! Grab him!"

"What do you thinkI’m trying to do?!" I yell in frustration as I scramble after him.

He had made a quick detour under the desk and around the legs of the desk, completely out of my reach.

"Wait, where did he go?"

I had almost had him, but then I lost my footing and stumbled to the ground. I looked up just in time to see Dart make his way towards the door.

It swung open to reveal a confused Max, who must have picked the lock.

"Wait, no, no, no-!" I attempted to get up, only to get trampled by the boys in the process.

The boys spilled out into the hallway, who had also managed to knock down Max.

I finally scrambled to my feet and stumbled into the hallway, my heart pounding against my ribcage.

"Where'd he go?" I asked, looking around frantically.

Max got to her feet, ignoring the question. "What was that?"

Mike whipped around to face her, his face going red with anger.

"Dart!"

"What?"

"You let him escape!"

In turn, Dustin got in Mike's face, jabbing a finger in his chest. "Why did you attack him?"

Mike pushed him aside and ran off. "Come on."

I followed after Mike, and Dustin called after us.

"Don't hurt him. Don't you hurt him!"

||3rd Person POV||

El waited patiently, in the safety behind the trees until the last bus left before she stepped out into the open.

Spotting the bike rack, she quickly sprinted across the parking lot, coming to a stop when she recognized the wide outstretched handlebars of one particular bike.

It was unmistakable. The single light that rested in between the handlebars, the seat that was so worn down, it had been taped back together. And of course, the extra seat attached to the back.

It was his bike.

And it meant he was still here.

+++

Mike made a left turn, walking swiftly down the hallway.

He waited until he passed the few stragglers that were still in the hallway, to clear the area.

"East is clear. No sign of Dart."

He trudged up the stairs, muttering angrily to himself.

"Where'd you go, you little bastard?"

He made his way to the gym, passing several hallways in the process.

El, who sensed movement, reached the end of the hallway, where he had just been. Contemplating which way to go, opted to take a right. Unknowingly growing further and further from Mike with each and every step she took.

+++

In a separate wing of the school, Dustin was scanning his area. He had donned his headset during his search. Dustin turned a corner near one of the exits and had run into Mr. Clarke, who was leaving for the day.

He plastered on his most innocent looking smile and sent his teacher off with a salute, to which he returned and Dustin got back to work.

"West is clear too. Will?"

+++

Will exited the last classroom he had checked. "South is clear. Lucas? Anything?"

Lucas ran down one of several hallways in the north wing, coming across a classroom door, just slightly ajar.

Assuming Dart was behind the door, he ran towards it, kicking it open.

Only to find his math teacher packing up for the day.

"Excuse me! Mr. Sinclair!"

"S-sorry!" He spluttered. "I was looking for study hall. Bye."

He chuckled nervously and backed out into the hallway, his face dropping and he spoke quickly and sternly into the walkie.

"Nothin' here, man. Y/n?"

She was constantly on the move, all over the school. Sweeping the halls in case Dart had narrowly escaped before any of the others had seen.

Her voice crackled over all of their comms.

"I've got a lot of ground to cover, but so far so clear," she quipped. "I'll keep you guys posted though,"

+++

Mike entered the gym, and his attention was immediately brought to the creaking noise across the room.

He noted it was the door to the locker rooms swinging back and forth.

He frowned suspiciously. Quickly and quietly he walked across the gym.

He walked into the tight hallway, most of the lights had turned off and he was starting to feel less confident.

He saw a mop to his left and grabbed it just in case. Slowly but surely, he crept through the locker spaces, and he heard something clatter. His heart pounding, he hid behind the locker, readying himself to attack.

He jumped out from hiding, yelling as he did so. Only for his voice to catch in his throat when he saw Max, board and all, looking at him like he'd grown a second head.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What are you doing? Why are you in here?" He snapped back.

"I'm looking for Dart." She defends.

"This is the boys' room."

"Yeah, so?"

"So you should go home." He threw the mop to the ground and stormed out.

Max started after him, fuming.

She trailed him all the way out into the gym.

All her anger had finally bubbled over and she raised her voice, allowing herself to scream at the boy.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you. How can I hate you? I even know you." He threw the words over his shoulder, not bothering to look at her.

"Yeah, but you don't want me in your party." She argued.

"Correct." He spits.

"Why not?"

Mike whirled around to face her, releasing all his anger.

"Because you're annoying." Max recoiled at his words, but he only continued to yell. "Also, we don't need another party member. I'm our paladin, Will's our cleric, Dustin's our bard, Lucas is our ranger, Y/n's our druid, and El is our mage."

Max's face scrunched up in confusion. "El? Who's El?"

Mike shook his head. "Someone. No one."

She raised her eyebrows. "Someone or no one?"

"She was in our party a long time ago. She moved away, okay?" He sighed, hoping she would drop the subject as quickly as possible.

Max, who had other plans, set her skateboard down and began to glide around the gym.

"She was a mage?" Genuinely interested. "Well, what could she do? Like, magic tricks or something?"

She jumped off the board and planted herself in front of Mike.

"Well, I could be your zoomer," she offered.

Mike rolled his eyes. "That's not even a real thing."

"It could be," Max insisted, not refusing to give up.

She got back on her skateboard and began to skate in circles around Mike. He just stood there in annoyance, watching her. She had her arms outstretched and smirk on her face.

"See? Zoomer,"

"Mind-blowing," He deadpanned.

"Come on, you know you're impressed,"

+++

El walked quickly passed the gym. The memories flooding back to her all at once every time she turned a familiar corner. She stopped suddenly when she heard a distant voice.

"I don't see any tricks. You're just going around in a circle,"

She knew that voice. Her pulse quickened, and her palms began to sweat.

Granted his voice was slightly deeper but it was his. Mike.

But then she heard a female voice.

"If it's so easy, you try it,"

El didn't know that voice and it scared her.

Nevertheless, she poked her head around the corner, and she saw the gym doors. The voices continued.

"No,"

"Why not?"

"I don't know how,"

"So, then you admit it's kind of impressive,"

"I think if I spent, like, all day practicing, I could do that,"

"I would give you a million bucks if you could,"

"Okay, you're making me dizzy,"

El crept towards the gym doors, terrified of what she might find.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"Please just stop,"

"I'll stop when I join your party,"

El made it to the gym doors and she saw him. He was taller, much taller but he was still himself. But there was a girl. A pretty girl with long red hair with him. Smiling at him.

"It's a simple question. Am I in or out?"

And there it was. He smiled at her. The way he used to smile at El and the girl was just as happy. El felt her heart grow heavy, she hated this feeling. And after all the excitement for seeing him, everything she had risked to see him.

And yet, for some reason she could not explain, it was hard to stay mad at him. She felt herself getting angry at this girl. Like it was her fault. Like this girl was intentionally replacing her.

Her jaw clenched, and her hands balled into fists as she focused her attention on the front two wheels of the girl's board, and ripped it out from under her.

The girl was thrown off her board, landing on the gym floor with a grunt.

El's face fell as she saw Mike jump to the girl's aid. "Jesus! Are you all right?"

Nothing about what El did made her feel good.

The girl began to sit up, grasping her side. "Yeah, yeah. I think so,"

Mike grabbed her hand and helped her up, and El began to water as she watched the exchange.

"What happened?" Mike asked, his hand lingered on the girl's wrist, hurting El even more.

"I don't know. It was like a magnet or something pulling on my board," The girl explained, quickly shaking her head. "I know that sounds crazy,"

Max walked after her rollaway board, and Mike's eyes widened in familiarity.

He looked over his shoulder, from where he had entered the gym and made a run for it.

It had to be her. It had to be. Right?

And yet, his heart fell when he was met with an empty hallway, no one else in sight.

+++

Will could have sworn he heard noises coming from the bathroom, and he hadn't heard from anybody over the comes for a while.

And so, gathering all his courage, he pushed open the door and crept inside.

He hadn't realized he had been hoping to find nothing until he heard the all too familiar chittering from the furthest stall down and his stomach dropped.

He tiptoed towards the noise, not wanting to scare him off. He reached the stall closest to the windows, slowly reached out a hand and cautiously opened the stall door. Sure enough, there sat Dart.

He was curled up in the corner, where the two walls met. He looked up at will and chittered.

Will raised his walkie slowly, and spoke calmly into it, taking every precaution not to scare him away.

"Guys... I found him,"

"Where?" It was Dustin.

"In the bathroom by Mr. Salerno's," Will whispered.

"Copy that," Mike relayed.

"I copy. I'm on way," Y/n responded.

Dart began to slowly recoil, and Will tried his best to seem as unthreatening as possible.

"It's okay," he said softly. "I'm not gonna hurt you,"

Dart looked at Will before letting out an earsplitting scream.

Startled, Will dropped his walkie and ran out of the bathroom in fright.

He stopped once he left the bathroom to catch his breath, not wanting to let the others down.

There was a loud thud that came from down the hall to his left, and he froze. The lights began to flicker. This wasn't happening again, he didn't want to believe it. He looked at the lights and when his gaze returned to the hallway to his left, the hallways were covered in vines, and everything was slimy. He was back.

An exit. There was an exit just his right. Out of nowhere, a black fog oozed out of the hallway in front of it, heading straight for him. He turned on his heel and ran.

He reached the painted paw print on the wall. He made another right. He quickly looked over his shoulder as he ran and it was still gaining on him. It wasn't relenting.

There was another exit. But he was beginning to believe he wouldn't make it. The farther he ran the quicker it seemed to get. He was panting heavily now but this fog had formed its own tendrils that were reaching out for him.

He finally made it to the doors and he threw them open as hard he could. He was now on the field but he was still in the Upside Down. And that that thing was still after him.

+++

BAM

Dustin threw open every stall door of the bathroom.

He sighed in relief when he opened up the last stall, and even Dart made a noise in contention, having recognized Dustin.

Dustin smiled at his small companion. "Hey, buddy,"

Dustin knelt down and held out his hands, Dart quickly scurried over to him.

"Come here. You know I won't hurt you,"

Dart happily jumped into Dustin's open palms and he calmly stood up. "It's okay. It's just me. You're okay,"

"Let's go. Down here," Mike's voice echoed from the halls.

Lucas could be heard soon after.

"We're coming!"

Dustin panicked, knowing his friends would try to get rid of Dart so he knew he had to buy some time.

Holding Dart in one hand, he moved his headset to hang around his neck, and took off his hat, and put Dart on top of his head, before putting his hat back over Dart.

"Stay low, and keep quiet."

Mike came marching in, Lucas and Max behind him.

"Where's Dart?" Mike asked.

"I don't know. He's not here. Where's Y/n?" Dustin countered, changing the subject.

Mike began looking for Dart and he checking the stalls when he heard he wasn't there.

"We don't know. Figured she'd got here before us," Lucas said.

"He said by Salerno's, right?" Max asked.

"Yeah, maybe Will has him," Dustin quickly lied.

Lucas crossed his arms and looked at Dustin skeptically, while Mike went pale.

"Where is Will?"

+++

Will pumped his arms as he sprinted through the field. He struggled to keep his breathing check so he wouldn't have to slow down.

He could feel the presence getting closer. And the memory of that morning's conversation with Bob flashed in his head.

"Only this time, I didn't run."

His legs came to a stop. Will's eyes widened, his heartbeat quickened, and his palms began to sweat. He grew pale. But he knew it was worth a shot.

He told himself he needed to do this.

"This time, I stood my ground."

Will was panting heavily, but he slowly turned around coming face to face with the monster. It towered over the school, looking directly at Will.

"I said, 'Go away. Go away!'"

Will gathered all his courage, tears brimming his eyes and he cried out.

"Go away!"

It got closer. It was swooping in like vulture but Will didn't give in.

"Go away! Go away!" Tears were streaming down his face, and the monster got closer. "Go away! Go away! Go away!"

The monster bellowed, and one large tentacle began twirling down onto the ground, the size of a small tornado. The swirling gust of black fog engulfed Will.

He stood frozen, now trapped in the swirling fog. Several black tendrils spawned from the mass and invaded Will and he could feel the evil presence as it possessed his body and settled in his very soul.

He felt every essence of warmth cease to be, and all that existed was icy darkness.

"Easy peasy, right?"

"Easy peasy."

Will was gasping for air but every breath he took felt like hundreds of daggers were being plunged in his lungs.

"Just like that."

||Reader's POV|| -MINUTES EARLIER-

I turned yet another corner, my eyes scanning the floors. They flew to my walkie when I heard it crackle. I didn't need any confirmation from the voice to know it belonged to Will.

"Guys... I found him,"

I stopped in my tracks. My ears perked up.

"Where?" It was Dustin.

"In the bathroom by Mr. Salerno's," Will whispered.

"Copy that," Mike replied.

I briskly turned on my heel and began speed walking where I came from. I raised the walkie to my lips.

"I copy. I'm on way,"

Salerno's. I was close.

I turned the corner, releasing the speaker button on my walkie. I passed by countless classrooms in my rush to the bathroom, mindlessly making turns. My mind began to wander to Dart and just how much convincing Dustin is going to need seeing how attached he already was.

'But in all honesty, how can one find that-'

My legs stopped carrying me forward, and my body failed me, I just stood there, glued to the floor staring at what I had accidentally stumbled upon. My breath hitched, I gasped and I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.

"Oh, my God," I breathed, my eyes welling up with tears. "Eleven?"

+++

Tag List: @dickkwad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa@miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely

DM me if you want to be added!

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fallingin-like · 5 years ago

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november 23

the real folk blues by @annawrites [requested by @allforthebee]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

this absolutely amazing and captivating fic that has the foxes as space bounty hunters and neil who is, as usual, and exceptionally skilled runaway. set away some time to read this fic as soon as possible, because once you start, you won’t be able to put it down until you finish.

this is such an entertaining, fun fic and you did an amazing job at balancing the softer moments with intense, action-packed scenes. at all times i was fully immersed in the story, you handled everything so well. i’m always a fan of your writing, so it’s not a surprised that i had a wonderful experience rereading this.

bits that stood out to me:

”counting stars has become a habit, something to subdue the memories” ah this is really cute and i can totally imagine canon andrew, lying on the roof of some building counting stars instead of trying to sleep

”renee cracks a chicken bone smile in the corner of her mouth” i have never heard this phrase before but i love it!

”there’s a collective intake of breath - andrew, who remembers every single bounty ever placed, can’t remember it ever being this big” for some reason, i love when this kind of thing happens. it feels so cool, knowing someone wants that character that bad and gets me excited for what kind of skills the hunted person has, to be able to evade the people looking for them (reminds me of john wick lol)

”nathaniel wesninski alias neil josten is a hacker, con artist, engineer and pilot” BLESS HIM FOR BEING SO CAPABLE AND SKILLED

matt’s infamous bell peppers and beef with no beef!!! that’s funny and i think about it surprisingly often

”renee pulls up a few more photographs of neil wesninski on the hologram screen. she deals them out like cards until they fan out in a neat timeline of faded hoodies and various iterations of the same polished smile, a mouth sharpened to cutting perfection… the eyes, in contrast, look consistently hunted” holograms and just this space tech is SO cool. i love seeing how the foxes view neil before they meet him. it’s interesting how many sightings they have of him, but also how blank he seems, when we all know that there’s so much personality under that surface

”the ISSP are a bunch of corrupt, incompetent idiots” LOL

”’tone down the optimism, day,’ andrew drawls. ‘we might start overestimating our chances’” agh i love your characterization of all of these characters and this is a great example of why! and i like that you used drawls, it feels very andrew-like

”andrew waggles his fingers lazily in the air” yeah this is andrew

woah i have never seen the art for this fic (i guess because i have the fic downloaded and i just read that version instead of going on ao3, the pictures must not have downloaded) but it’s great!

gasp, i love the idea of the foxes Dressed Up

ALLISON BEING BANNED FROM PLAYING!! “her former alias - lady luck, also known as poker alice” oh this is great. for some reason, them having reputations like this really excites me

”it’s in my blind spot” ANDREW this is so funny

ahhhh i can’t believE you added the “better luck next time” line in!!

okay so the whole action part of this scene is so intense, love andrew throwing the poker chip as a diversion, and neil pretending to give up for a moment before ACTIVATING HIS ARMED SHIP AND SHOOTING EVERYONE. ugh, hearing about neil being so good at what he does (steering, hacking, while taking off his jacket) makes me love this scene so much

”vowels rolling like a pair of dice” this is so good on its own, but paired with the casino scene that precedes it? stunning

”kevin values his ship, and his life, in that order.” i can imagine. i wonder, is there competitive racing in this au? i can imagine kevin being obsessed with that

thank goodness riko is dead, one less thing (on a list of many things) to worry about. whoop and i see that easthaven has passed, good.

KEVIN DAY WITH A METAL ARM AND A TRANSMITTER PLATE THAT COVERS HIS TATTOO YEAH

oh dang limb regrowth tech in this au? wild

”’minyard and the monster, how lovely to see you again.’ neil greets him through the once more hijacked comm. they’ve been playing this game for weeks now, racing each other across the milky way like starved lovers. even allison is starting to run out of lewd jokes” i find it so interesting hearing about this relationship that’s being built between them even though they basically never meet in person, the joking from neil’s side

these hints of andrew’s eye mods are really great, i definitely didn’t notice them as much as i should have when i first read this fic, but every time after that, i appreciate little details like these more and more

RENEE WITH A KATANA YES PLEASE

”andrew shakes off the last dregs of sunday sleepiness that cling to his lips like the skin on warm milk. neil wesninski might have become a game by now, but the malcolms still mean business” ohhh boy, even knowing what comes next i get nervous hearing this. i love the contrast between the softness of what sundays mean with the conflict to come, especially when you jump right into the action

”renee pants, her voice cool and slippery like broken tiles amid the crackle of static” oh i love this description

LOL i can’t believe that andrew got matt’s dessert rations and gets to invite neil to be a part of their crew

”missions are slow and neil’s face keeps showing up on big shot, though not for lack of people trying to hunt him down.” i don’t know why but i really like this!! you go, neil!

oh oh thank you so much for the way that you describe neil alone on his ship, his hoodies, gloves, “one sad-looking sock”, “the one sock he’s wearing has holes”, talking to himself, “yet he’s still inexplicably trying to shield his robots from andrew’s gun” so cute!

”eyes like the gleaming insides of a wire in the dark” this!!!!

the! cats! neil made his robots cats!!

NEIL HACKING INTO THEIR COMMS I LOVE HIM

”neil is like a live fish under his hands, constantly wriggling and sliding out of his grip, fingers twitching back toward his abandoned project like flies caught in a spiderweb” ahh squirmy neil is super cute, “neil shivers under the touch like he’s not used to being touched at all” this doesn’t surprise me. even if i didn’t have an idea of what his childhood might have been like (with mary and nathan, i imagine there was not very much affection), he’s probably been alone for so long, when would the last time someone would have touched him? i don’t think i would be able to handle it

ahh barefoot neil is always cute

SCARS no matter how many fics i read, i always love moments when neil’s scars are revealed

NEIL RUNNING LAPS IN HIS TINY SHORTS AROUND AND AROUND AHH

”neil slinks into the room late, looking tousled and a little sticky around the edges like he’s just woken up from a nap. he freezes when he sees andrew, stuck standing right in the middle of the projection, and only moves when dan throws a cushion at him” your writing actually paints scenes in my head which for me, a person really bad at visualizing things, is really impressive. it makes the experiences of reading exponentially more interesting, and doesn’t happen that often.

renee as praying mantis!! what a perfect nickname. is she religious in this au as well? i can’t remember if any religions even exist in this au (whoops i know nothing about cowboy bebop)

”she looks stiff and faded like old newspaper in the light of the kitchen lamps” what a gem of a sentence

me: sees the nickname gorilla and gets excited because i know some action is going to go down

”the three of them would just about reach his head if renee sat on andrew’s shoulders and lifted neil up” THIS IS AMAZING. i mean, andrew and neil are tiny but they are not that tiny

”andrew begins tonelessly, tracing patterns into neil’s skin” if we ignore the fact that andrew is telling a terrible terrible story, this is so soft

”his breathing is viscous now, like syrup in his lungs. his left eye aches and the corner of his mouth twitches painfully into the ghost of a manic grin. he bites his tongue and it tastes like the word please” i am speechless but i really wanted to acknowledge this sentences lakjsdf

NEIL WINNING THE BET ABOUT BEING ABLE TO STEAL THINGS FROM THE VENDOR AND ROBBING THE MAN JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING. uGH you do such a good job of integrating humour like this into your story and having it fit the tone and pacing of the fic effortlessly.

excuse me how is it possible that you followed such a lighthearted scene with something so devastating as andrew explaining his past to allison and neil and have it still flow??? “because… i did not mean for you to get hurt” ANDREW YOU’RE SO GOOD

”he’s smoking outside and watching the dusk unfurl like an exotic flower when there’s a crash inside the store” this description is so gorgeous

what in the world, andrew i don’t even know how to describe you. he really just helps catch the robbers with his headphones on while choosing things to buy, killing a dude, then checking out, no big deal???? i understand neil’s attraction to him a little bit more now…

andrew and renee sharing clothes is now canon, please and thank you

oh no, lola is Bad News, especially when it comes to threatening neil’s family

NEIL PACKING ANDREW’S LEATHER JACKET AHH

”the bebop crew are basically overgrown children and react very well to the little sugary rewards for good behaviour” yeah this is very true haha

”’your blatant flirting woke me up,’ matt grins weakly. ‘can i have a lollipop too, neil?” i remember this whole scene so well, the second the infirmary was mentioned i knew it was lollipop time. matt, is basically how i feel right now HAH

woah wymack taking care of bonsai trees? i didn’t know i needed that in my life so badly. just like neil and the twins, so tiny :’)

uhm so, the tape that nicky sent to andrew? it’s actually making me cry (which is super rare for fics) “i hope you know that i love you”, “things aren’t so easy at the moment, and maybe they still aren’t easy for you watching this ten years from now, but i’ll always be there for you, and for aaron, too. i hope that one day we can be a family. happy birthday, my little piyoko, don’t eat all the cake by yourself!” i love this so much, and it makes me so sad and happy. this nicky is so good, and as much as i think andrew needed to see this, i think that i needed to read this more. thank you

nicky calling the twins his little piyokos, his lucky birds ;-;

the reunion scenes are so good, i really don’t think i can write anything that sufficiently describes how i feel. the way that nicky acts, the new relatives, older aaron, it all feels so right, so real.

andrea minyard deserves her own bullet point

neil just goes and makes all the police ships crash by controlling them remotely just for andrew to be hit by a moon rock?!?!?

”something irritatingly warm rises and swells inside andrew like yeast dough and he plunges his fists into it and kneads it into submission, twists it until all that remains is sticky, frothy anger” and “andrew sits down on a crate and prods at the yeasty mass still fermenting in his insides. the sudden bloating of anger has subsided to the usual starchy nothingness, but there’s a sugary residue of unease that he doesn’t want to examine any further right now” as much as i adore your jokes and beautiful descriptions of scenes, sentences like these ones that blow me away completely are why you’re one of my favourite fanfic authors. these are the kinds of sentences that i carry with me even after i am finished reading

”i can’t decide if you two are more like toddlers or like an old married couple… either way, it’s really bizarre to see andrew having feelings other than hate and destruction” LOL

thea is the coolest person ever

”kevin makes a noise like a dying dog” me too, kevin

NONONONONO ICHIROU AND JEAN AND EASTHAVEN

thank goodness neil is here

apparently i am very fond of the words “juice pack” and think it is cute. why? i also do not know

huh, riko naming his identity kevin king?? feels… not good

oh boy, lola is back

ANDREW CAN PICK OPEN HIS HANDCUFFS THANK YOU FOR THIS

is it bad if i am happy that all these people are dying (proust, lola, etc.)

NEIL AMPUTATES NATHAN’S HAND WITH A CLEAVER WHILE HE’S HOLDING A CLEAVER AND THEN KILLS HIM LDKSJFLK

oh dang, it’s stuart (i trust him)

andrew’s eye! thank goodness, because although it kind of sucks, it also Really Does Not Suck

”it’s stiff and awkward and neil quickly wriggles out of it. kevin must be really shaken up, because he tries andrew next. andrew waits passively until he’s close and then steps to the side at the last moment, smothering his amusement in a cough when kevin walks straight into the wall with open arms. serves him right for thinking even for a second that andrew would let him” LOL i love you, anna, so so much

money!! woohoooooo (or should i say woolonghooo okay sorry that’s like the world’s worst pun)

BELL PEPPERS AND BEEF WITH ACTUAL BEEF AND NO PEPPERS YES! what a great way to bring things full circle, even though it’s small

sweet dumplings filled with fruit? i am intrigued

THE SHIRT

i can’t not acknowledge the bit with the key, neil is too clever for his own good

we finally get to see bee! ugh i love the relationship between bee and andrew

”they may be marks of destruction, but they are still andrew’s; still proof of his existence” yeah (like a good yeah)

interesting about andrew’s memory not being as good without his left eye. does he have eidetic memory in this au? maybe it’s better if he doesn’t

i remember the first time i read this fic, in startling detail. this fic was so good then, and it has been just as good, if not better, every time i have reread it

it’s kind of embarrassing, but one of the things that i remember distinctly (among a lot of other things) is the noodles! reading this fic never fails to make me want to eat instant noodles

so one thing about me is that i am actually really bad at visualizing things. when i read stories, i can never imagine what a character looks like, i just see the feature that is being highlighted at the moment, and the second that sentence ends, that image is gone. like i just have a magnifying glass to someone’s face but i can’t piece together the parts. it makes it so that i often struggle with the visualization of stories. but something about your writing makes it easy for me to pictures scenes happening. everything is so vivid, and real (hence, the instant noodle cravings lol) and i love that so much. it’s so special.

the flow of this fic is amazing, the characterization is incredibly authentic and really helps with carrying the plot. you integrated lighthearted scenes with pure angst and awful things (easthaven) and i’m honestly curious as to the cowboy bebop episodes you took inspiration from. this fic was so well written, you are so skilled at introducing characters, locations, plot points, although i’m not familiar with this universe i wasn’t confused at any point. you explained everything without me noticing. this was just a breathtaking fic. thank you so much for writing this!!

#the real folk blues #aftg fic review #raelle writes

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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848

Around the House (#4)

Bathroom(s) 1. How many bathrooms are in your house? How many are full and how many are half? We have two, one that’s mainly a guest bathroom downstairs and a main one upstairs for us. They’re both...full bathrooms I guess? Hahaha we don’t really use those terms but our bathrooms are very identical-looking and have the same features. 2. Do you have more than one window in your bathroom? Yeah, each have two. 3. What is/are the wall color(s) of this/these rooms? Light turquoise downstairs, peach upstairs.

4. Does/Do the/these room(s) have hardwood flooring or carpeting? An area rug, perhaps? Linoleum? Both have tile flooring, but we have a rug in each too. 5. What type(s) of lighting fixtures are in this/these rooms? (wall lamps, table lamps, freestanding lamps, or ceiling lamp/fan) Just lightbulbs at the ceiling.

6. Do you have cabinets above or below the sink? The guest bathroom is rather bare because we barely entertain visitors. In the upstairs bathroom, we don’t have a cabinet but we have a couple of racks up on the wall instead that hold everything that would’ve gone inside a cabinet. 7. Do you have a cabinet above the toilet? That’s the above mentioned racks, yes. 8. Do any of your bathrooms have more than one sink? Nope, each just have one. 9. Do you have a bidet in any of your bathrooms? Both bathrooms have one. The guest bathroom used to not have a bidet, but since our family has been spending more and more time downstairs we eventually got my dad to put a bidet there too. 10. Is your linen closet inside your bathroom, or is it in the hallway? Not sure if I’m answering this question right but all blankets, bedsheets, etc. are kept in a certain cabinet in the master bedroom. 11. Do you have any cleaning supplies in your bathroom, or is there a separate utility closet for these items? Yes, they’re in the bathroom. But we also have a separate cabinet for the rest of the cleaning supplies because like I said, my mom is a little bonkers about keeping the house tidy. 12. Do you have anything on the walls of your bathroom? The racks I mentioned, and a mirror. 13. Do you have a full-length mirror on your bathroom door? No, we don’t. 14. Do you have any decorations/items on the back of your toilet? What are they? We have a toilet lid cover. 15. What is on your bathroom countertop? Toothbrushes, toothpastes, and some of my siblings’ face products. 16. Do you do your makeup in the bathroom or in your bedroom? How about getting dressed? I don’t wear makeup. 17. What color is your trash can? Brown upstairs, black downstairs. 18. What is one unique thing you have in your bathroom that hasn’t been mentioned yet? Welp we’re currently using the downstairs bathroom as a potty training area for Cooper. No one ever takes a bath in there so the shower area has since shifted to be a place for him to do his business in, and he’s doing amazing so far :D We’d take him outside but 1) we don’t have a gate, and 2) his digestive system’s not 100% yet and we don’t wanna make it worse by taking him outside where all sorts of tiny creepy crawlies hang out. Bedroom(s) 1. How many bedrooms are there in your house? Are they all currently being used as bedrooms, though? Three, but we turned it into four after we made our balcony into my brother’s room – so that’s mine, my sister’s, my brother’s, and my parents’. Yes, they’re all bedrooms but they’ll probably turn my room into something else once I move out, probably a little movie room. I know for sure my dad’s already got a few ideas haha. 2. What is/are the wall color(s) of this/these rooms? Three of the rooms have white walls, though my parents’ room was green before. The only different-colored walls are in my brother’s room; we couldn’t exactly build up new walls since it used to be the balcony so he mostly has windows around his room. We did retain the lower half of the balcony’s wall which is light cream, same as the outside of the house. 3. Does/Do the/these room(s) have hardwood flooring or carpeting? An area rug, perhaps? Linoleum? Everything is hardwood upstairs. My parents’ room has a rug. 4. What type(s) of lighting fixtures are in this/these rooms? (wall lamps, table lamps, freestanding lamps, or ceiling lamp/fan) Just ceiling lights for all. My parents have wall lamps above their bed, while I think my sister has a night light because she doesn’t like the dark too much. 5. What size bed do you have? What size parents do your parents have? (if you still reside with them) Siblings’ beds? My sister and I have twinbeds, but because my brother’s room is considerably larger than ours my parents opted to get him a queen bed because a twin would look too tiny in his room. My parents have a king bed. 6. Do you have any prints or wall decorations up? I have Audrey Hepburn wall decors on one side. On another section of my room I have a poster of Nam Joo Hyuk up (still, haha) and various paintings that Gabie made and bought for me. 7. Do you have a string of lights somewhere in your room? Nope. I wanted those before but I think it’d be too pressing on our electricity bill and I’d rather be practical for my parents’ benefit.

8. Do you have a desk in your room? What’s on it? Nah. Okay, story time! It sucks because when we first moved in this house, we did so with the intention that my sister and I would be sharing a room. As someone who shared a room with my family of 5 in our old house, I didn’t want that shit. I wanted my own room. So I called dibs on what was supposed to be my brother’s room instead, thinking that my younger sibs could be the ones to share a room instead.

Thing was, my 10 year old self could not tell that my brother’s room is actually the smallest one in the house. But I didn’t care about that then; I just wanted my own room. Fast forward to my high school and college years, I started to regret that dumb dibs I made because I couldn’t even have a desk in my own room. Eventually I realized that it was okay, because I feel like I’d fall asleep if I studied in my room haha. I do all my work at the dining room table and it’s worked out very well for me. 9. Do you/did you ever have to share a bedroom with someone else? At some point in high school when my brother was starting to grow bigger, my parents said to switch rooms, which meant that I’d have to share a room with my sister – which was the original plan lol. My sister hated it, I hated it, we all hated the new set-up. We shared a room for like a week, tops. So my parents just completely turned the balcony into a bedroom so that us kids could each have our own room. 10. Do you have a nightstand? What’s on it/in it? I have a bedside drawer and I just use the top of it as my ~nightstand. It has quite a lot of knickknacks – old chargers and wires, an artwork my sister made, high school grad photos of my friends, some DVDs, my wallet, and what was supposed to be my graduation sash. My memory jars for Gab and I which include receipts, old letters, etc. are also there.

11. Do you have a vanity or a mirror in your bedroom? Yes. 12. Do you have a clock in your bedroom, even if you just use your phone as an alarm? Yep, still do. Barely look at it now though lol. 13. Do you have a calendar in your bedroom? Nopes. That’s in my phone now. 14. Is your bedroom neat or messy? How often do you clean it? Oh it’s definitely neat. My mom inspects each room on a daily basis. It internally drives me bonkers but it’s just a tiny adjustment I have to go with so she doesn’t yell at me. Plus it’s much more relaxing to enter a tidy room anyway. 15. Do you make your bed on a daily basis? Not always. Sometimes I’ll feel too lazy folding up my blanket, which is quite large. 16. How many windows are in your bedroom(s)? What sorts of coverings do they have? Two. I dunno what you technically call it but it’s like a pull-down window shade thing. 17. Do you have a bookshelf in your room? Approximately how many books do you own? Nah. Again, it’s that issue of accidentally picking out the smallest room in the house lol. I’ve had to maximize the tiny space I’ve got so my books are grouped in various places...on top of my closet, in the lowest section of my closet, in my bedside storage chest, in one of my drawers, etc. I probably own like 50-60 or so. 18. How many dressers do you have in your room? One. 19. Is your closet “regular” sized, or is it a walk-in? It’s just regular sized. 20. What kinds of things do you do in your bedroom? [trigger warning] I go there mostly to sleep, but during considerably bad breakdowns my room turns into a depression hole. No exaggeration. I’ll go there to cry, starve myself, harm myself, stare at the ceiling or wall for hours, etc. That’s why I don’t really like staying in my room if I’m happy or just not necessarily sad. I’ve associated it too much with negative energy. 21. Do you have any photographs/pictures anywhere in your bedroom? Yeah I have photos of friends on my bedside drawer and I’m sure I have more of them kept in various places. 22. What’s under your bed right now? I have storage boxes for all the collections I used to have when I was still a fangirl haha so inside those boxes are all my WWE and PWI magazines; the WWF magazines my old friend Ellud gave me; various ~fancy~ magazines like Vanity Fair, Vogue, Elle, Harper’s Bazaar, etc. where Kristen Stewart or Beyoncé were in the cover, my old issues of K-Zone, etc. 23. Is your hamper overflowing? Do you need to do laundry? No, not at the moment. 24. Do you have anything in your bedroom that you wouldn’t want your parents finding? (even as an adult, if they came over) Honestly my room is already swarming and glaring with hints that I AM IN A SAME-SEX RELATIONSHIP. YOU CAN’T MISS THEM. But they never ask lol. At first I tried to hide the flowers, Post-Its, etc., but then that got boring so I tried to test them through the years by bringing more stuff out for the naked eye to see. They still haven’t asked.

25. What does your comforter look like? How many pillows/blankets do you sleep with? Right now it’s plain royal blue. I have two white pillows and a duvet. 26. Do you have a trash can in this room? Nope, my mom prefers we throw all trash in the bathroom. 27. What is one unique thing in your bedroom that hasn’t been mentioned yet? I used to have this ~artwork that I had made myself put on the wall. It was a quote CM Punk said and each letter was cut from pages from my old magazines. I knew my mom never liked it from day one, and she was never supportive of it, and she ultimately took it down like a year later while I was in school. She had no idea that the quote served as my motivaton to keep going, so it was such a fucking downer. Plus, it was the one time I got really creative??? So for her to put the whole thing down really hurt me because I was actually proud of something I made. I didn’t bother crying about it anymore because she would’ve just told me that my work wasn’t pretty anyway, and that I shouldn’t be so sensitive. For those wondering, the quote is, “"There isn't a person on this planet that should let a past nightmare dictate their future dreams.” [a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse]

#survey #surveys

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menswearmusings · 5 years ago

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Do Yourself a Favor and Get a Decent Tie Rack From Dapper Woodworks—A Free Product Review

I don’t wear a tie everyday, and I don’t have a ton of ties, but the storage solution I had for the roughly 20 ties I do have was annoying and lame. Buying a better tie rack just wasn’t a high priority for me, and thus, my ties hung on a roughly $12 hanging contraption from T.J. Maxx. It made me very, very sad.

My sad T.J.Maxx tie rack.

Enter Dapper Woodworks. The man behind the company, Justin Trewitt, has been at this for two years as a side job to help create some supplemental income for his family while simultaneously engaging his interests in woodworking and menswear. As with many business ideas, his started when he wanted a way to store his pocket squares, so he just made his own. He realized perhaps other men facing the same situation would be interested in such a product, and soon he was selling on Etsy. His product selections now include shoe horns, coat hooks, collar stay organizers, the aforementioned pocket square organizers and of course, tie racks.

Justin asked me whether I would like to have one of his custom-made tie racks in order to give my impressions and give an honest review of it (note my free product policy here. TL;DR I keep my opinions honest and don’t accept free stuff in exchange for positive coverage). I measured my closet, and since he does custom-sized racks in addition to the standard stock sizes, asked for a 20-inch rack, which he told me stores 37 ties—way more than I currently have, so I’ve got room to grow. Since it was a custom size, I got to choose the wood, peg metal and whether it had the optional top shelf. Ultimately, I picked walnut with brass pegs, with the top shelf included, which I figured might help a little bit with dust, but also provide a nice spot to store a couple belts, silk knots, collar stays and whatever else.

He set to work immediately, posting progress images on his Instagram. Within about a week, he’d finished it and was ready to s—oh no! He messaged me to say he’d accidentally made it 18 inches long, not 20. Being super apologetic, he remade the 20 inch one within a few days, and it was on its way to me.

For this type of product, it’s very simple to determine whether it’s great: Is it real hard wood, not composite? Yes. Is it sturdily constructed? Yes. Are the cuts on the wood smooth, without jagged edges? Yes. The joints are fitly joined together, the stain is even, the pegs are secure and perfectly spaced. And he’s also put the next level of fit and finish into the installation aspect. On the back are keyhole slots, just as you’d find on any professionally made wooden shelf. Included in the box is a mounting guide, but instead of a flimsy piece of paper, it’s a full-length piece of wood with holes drilled in it at the exact spacing of the keyholes. Leveling it is a breeze, the three-dimensional wood taking the uncertainty out of whether or not a piece of paper was perfectly flat against the wall.

You could probably find all of those aspects in a mass produced, ugly tie rack from Container Store for less money, just as you can also get a mass produced, cheap tie from The Tie Bar for less money than a Drake’s tie, and it’ll accomplish the utilitarian aspect of the product. But what DW is doing is vastly superior in almost every aspect: it’s much more aesthetically pleasing; you can choose from half a dozen beautiful wood grains and multiple peg styles; you know who is making it and that you’re supporting him provide for his family; and now, even better, he has begun donating a portion of every month’s sales to a nonprofit that provides education, food and medical care for children in need.

In all, it’s an excellent product befitting a fine tie collection, the pedigree of which is sterling.

That said, the price seemed really high to me, especially at first. The standard 18-inch wide tie rack starts at $140 without the shelf, and $190 with.

But, like, a single Drake’s tie is $150. On sale, you can maybe score it for $75.

This $200 tie rack holds 37 ties.

Given how sad and lame most tie storage solutions are, it’s an absolute no-brainer for someone who has a collection of beautiful ties, and who also would like to store their clothing in a way that isn’t sad. That is, if you’re trying to use wide-shouldered hangers, decent garment bags, and shoe trees in your shoes, a tie rack makes perfect sense.

My recommendation

Measure your own space and get a rack that makes sense. The 18-inch will likely fit most spaces and holds enough ties for most guys, I’d guess. I 100% recommend the top shelf. It keeps dust off the ties and is a useful spot to put things like his lapel pins or belts or artwork. I love the walnut finish, and the brass pegs make it feel masculine. Use code MM10 for 10% off.

So there’s my review: the solid hardwood Dapper Woodworks tie rack is an excellent product that gives me immense pleasure, and which exceeded my expectations in how easily Justin makes the mounting aspect. The quality is very high, being profesionally built and using materials I am confident putting my finely made ties on.

I temporarily installed the rack for the photoshoot below, because getting this rack actually inspired me to do a DIY renovation on my real closet, but I didn’t have time to get that finished before the deadline to publish this review.

I asked Justin a few questions about his background, the origin of Dapper Woodworks and what he plans next. You can check it out in full below.

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Menswear Musings: What do you do for your day job?

Justin Trewitt: I’ve been working for my family’s company for the past 5 1/2 years in Plano, Tx. We do financial planning for individuals and we also just started doing business brokerage so helping people buy and sell businesses. I started in customer service, but now I do a lot of behind the scenes preparation for client meetings. Basically lots of staring at a computer screen and Excel spreadsheets.

MM: How long have you been doing DW?

JW: I started Dapper Woodworks in November of 2017 so just over 2 years now. We had just decided for my wife to quit teaching to be a stay at home mom with our first son so I wanted to find a way to create a little extra income for our family.

MM: What got you started making these tie racks?

JW: Well I got into woodworking when my wife and I bought our house a few years ago. We didn’t have a lot of furniture so I just learned how to make some! I have also been into menswear after learning to dress better in college. When I began thinking of side hustles I decided that I wanted to combine my woodworking hobby with my passion for menswear, and that’s how Dapper Woodworks began. My first product was a pocket square rack that I made for myself out of cheap wood because I couldn’t find a good way to store my collection. I figured surely I wasn’t the only one with this problem so I made an Etsy store and put it up for sale. I knew I needed more products so I made a few tie racks out of some scrap wood and hardware. It took over a month before the first order, and then people began requesting custom sizes and woods and it’s just taken off from there!

MM: Have you had a big response?

JW: The response has been way bigger than I could have ever imagined! When I began I was going to be happy with a sale or two every month. We are 2 years in now, and I just counted that we’ve sent over 400 items all over the world which is just crazy to me! I think people really enjoy them because there aren’t any good options to display your ties or accessories in a beautiful way. When you invest a lot of money into your tie or pocket square collection you might as well display it on a rack that has the same level of craftsmanship. I believe people really enjoy the custom aspect because each product is unique and is made their specifications

MM: How big is your personal tie collection and what’re you favorite ties and why?

JW: I’m in the process of redoing my collection, and filling it with higher quality ties that reflect the quality of my products. I had a bunch of cheaper ties for my previous job that I got rid of so I still trying to fill my smallest rack that holds 21 ties. My first nice tie was my Kent Wang grenadine which I absolutely recommend to anyone starting a collection. The cool part about being in the menswear space is meeting other brands, and several tie makers that are running a side business like me. I’ve got a couple of really great grenadine and shantung ties from H.N. White in England. A beautiful brown cashmere tie from Oxford Rowe. Also this incredible 7 fold tie from Shawn Christopher who is the only brand I know that makes his own ties instead of having them manufactured.

MM: What’s the most gratifying thing about this business for you?

JW: Beside being able to provide for my family this business has helped pay for my wife and I to go on 2 mission trips to plant churches in Tanzania. We needed to raise all of our own funds, and had lots of other expenses such as doctors visits, vaccines, and passports and this business helped cover all extra expenses. Also we have just partnered with our friend’s ministry Twelve21, and a portion of each month’s sales will be going toward sponsoring a child that will provide an education, food, and medical care. It’s just been really neat to trust God through this whole process, and see where he has taken us!

MM: Any new products you’re working on that you

JW: Besides the tie racks and pocket square racks, our shoe horns have been very popular this year. I’ve also introduced a few smaller items like our collar stay organizers and cedar blocks. But going into 2020 I’m hoping to add some new tools to the shop and start making some valet trays, and maybe some shoe racks. I’m always trying to think of new items that are menswear and woodworking related, and if you ever have any suggestions just let me know.