#gotta do it... twice.... for the ornament........

[ukiiseikou]

my breath twists with yours.

various genshin (diluc, wanderer, kazuha, xiao) x gn! reader. various things that happens after moving in together.

diluc: the space is filled

despite all the servants, diluc used to coming home to an empty and eerie mansion after his nights as the darknight hero. but now you're always greeting him at the door (no matter how late it is - you seem to have a sixth sense when it comes to when he's coming back) and he feels like he can actually relax as you guide him through his night routine. even in the mornings, when it is usually quiet as he flips through the delivered newspapers and stack of papers, he can hear you humming the latest song you heard from one of the traveling bards or your laughter as you chat to the housemaids about new gossip. the cracks in the walls get filled with chatter and noise thanks to you, and it makes him feel warm.

wanderer: taking up space

you gotta cram two people's stuff into his flat now, and that means taking over stuff and space that was always just his. he finds it a bit inconvenient at first - he reaches for his coffee mug only to find your's there, and his mug has been re-situated into another cabinet because "it's a different shape!". he can't find his moisturiser because YOUR skincare products have invaded his counter space and he just sighs. morning routines are ruined and the way things are placed that made sense to him are completely irrelevant to you. eventually he gets used to the reminders of you everywhere, like it was always there. he even starts reminding you where you placed something, like when you can't find your keys and he tells you its on the counter next to his.

kazuha: picking furniture together

he adds anything he finds 'aesthetic' and that calls out to him into the cart, and ends up with a eclectic mix of fabrics, textures, and woods that would send any self-respecting interior designer into a coma. even he admits he might've been a little too overboard, and eventually he settles with picking a few of his favourites and letting you handle the rest while he hovers behind you like a busy bee. grows giddy at the thought of creating a space that just feels like the both of you - his mind constantly running with thoughts of domestic bliss like cooking together and relaxing in the sun, the smell of freshly brewed tea in the air and the wind in your hair.

xiao: two of everything

xiao is used to being alone, and has been for a really long time, and old habits die hard. he struggles to adjust initially when you finally move in with him. keeps forgetting to make two cups of tea in the morning instead of just one, and grumbles and angrily scrubs at the plates about doing twice as much washing up but snaps at you when you offer to do it. but he gets used to it and thinks that being able to curl up next to you at the end of the day far outweighs any extra trouble he has to go through. he grows soft and starts thinking of you whenever he's out - bringing back flowers that brighten up your living room and ornaments that reminded him of you.

if you finished & liked it, please consider liking and reblogging ~ thank youuu

[noteguk]

for the drabble game !! mermaid reader x pirate jungkook fluff first meeting and a little bit of love at first sight?? but he doesn't know she's a mermaid because she's on land with legs

anon I could kiss on on the upper lips right now I’ve been waiting for ages for someone to send me something fantasy related I had lost hope?? Also I changed the legs part because I’m a huge advocate for EVIL and KILLER mermaids that DRAG MEN to the DEPTHS!!!!

also I have this unfinished pirate!jk fic somewhere but you didn’t hear that from me

The scent coming from the sea was strong and overbearing — mixed with the usual salty odor, came one of the upcoming storm. The air was thick and humid, the waves crashing ferociously against the side of the ship and, just on the horizon, Jungkook could see the mountain-like clouds forming. It was a bad omen if he ever saw one.

“Hey, pay attention,” his mate said, tapping him on the shoulder. Jungkook didn’t even notice that his heart was beating so fast. “We need to throw some weight off board. Get useful or get thrown over.”

He sneered. “Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Figuring out what was and what wasn’t trash in a pirate ship is ridiculously difficult, it seemed. Turns out that a lot of valuable ornaments look like cheap stuff, but, as his captain so lovingly said, “it’s those fucktwats at the court that decide what is and what isn’t worth payin’ for”. And, well, gold is gold, so who was he to judge.

It was just as he was throwing a bunch of torn rope overboard that he stopped, confused. The sea was tall and angry, the waves crashing just beneath where Jungkook stood on the deck — but, amidst the white bubbles and the deep blue ocean, there was… someone.

“Hey, wha—“

Jungkook started screaming out — he wasn’t sure what he would follow that up with, he didn’t know if you needed help, considering you seemed to be doing just fine in the middle of a storm. But then you turned around and all air was knocked out of his lungs.

If the pirate had been a little more religious, he would fall to his knees and repent. What appeared before him could be nothing but a deity, an angel, something created with so much perfection that he could cry just by being able to take a glimpse at it. He could not tell the color of your eyes but he knew that they were piercing, looking directly into his soul. Your hair was drenched and pushed back, presenting your beautiful features to his mortal gaze.

Your voice, as melodious as a song, broke the crashing of the waves. “Nice to meet you,” you said. He was hypnotized — mouth agape and body leaning forward. There was a halo around you, a glow that covered your skin, down to your shoulders, and the top of your breasts. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Jungkook nodded, licking his lips. The ropes next to him were forgotten, thrown aside. Nothing else mattered but you.

You giggled. What a breathtaking smile. “You should come closer, silly!” You said, swimming closer to the ship yourself. Rain had started to fall mercilessly, but neither of you seemed to care. “I can’t tell you a secret out loud, can I?”

And he was about to dive into the sea with you when his captain’s voice broke his transe. “All hands on deck, the storm is upon us now!” He screamed. Jungkook turned around just in time to see a few of his mates slipping on the wet wood as the ship tilted to the side. “Jeon, what are you fuckin’ doing?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but, when he turned around, you were no longer there. Yet, the will to follow you remained in his chest, burning under his skin like an inch he could never reach.

Jungkook asked himself if he would see you again — and if, next time, he would follow you into the depths.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Not Another Winchester Christmas

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1594

For: @spnexploration @spnfanficpond Secret Santa Fic Exchange

Warnings: cursing, a bit of angst, some TPE implied

A/N: had to do last minute rewrite, hoping makes sense

*references made here from this story

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*no Beta- all mistakes are mine

December 4th

Castiel frowned as he walked by the kitchen hearing the Winchesters having another argument. 

“Dean, you gotta stop acting like a Scrooge!”

“What the hell you talking about Sam?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about..”

Entering the war room he spotted the brother's inamorata, Y/N, curled up in one of the library’s wingback chairs intently reading while subconsciously fingering the silver branch choker that was created dialing down her natural abilities to appease Dean after a case ended up going sideways and he became possessed by Frau Perchta, the Christmas witch.

“Do you know what that is about? Perhaps there is something I can do to help.”

Y/N peered over her book, “no offense Cas, but your concept of the holiday is even more skewed than mine,” the angel tips his head, squinting, with his patented I do not understand expression. 

 “Dean was hoping Mary would come and do whatever family’s do for Christmas, but she chose to take off with Ketch on a case.”

“Ah, now I understand the reference. Dean is acting, to paraphrase Charles Dickens: hard and sharp as flint..secret, self-contained, and solitary as an oyster."

It suddenly became quiet then Sam came in sporting bitchface #74 grabbing his duffle off the map table gruffly asks, “ready to go Cas?”

“Hey,” Sam paused as Y/N got up and walked to him, “don’t forget to text me when you get there.” 

Sam’s expression softened as he cupped her cheek, “never Amare,” leaning down he gently kissed her, “thank you for staying. I know he’s being a right fucking bastard because of mom,” he broke off swallowing rapidly. 

Y/N laid her hand over his turning to kiss his palm, “I’m sorry she’s unwilling to be here for both of you. If Santa were real I’d ask him to give you guys a real Christmas.”

December 5th

Dean, in his deadman's robe and sporting hedgehog hair, sluggishly shuffles around the kitchen seeking his fully-leaded coffee hears Christmas music drifting from the war room grumpily heads towards it to demand Y/N to turn that shit off enters and abruptly stops holding the cup halfway to his mouth closed his eyes and shook his head.

 “It’s an alcohol-induced illusion, that's it, I had too much last night and instead of pink elephants..”

Y/N stuck her head outta her room upon hearing Christmas music floating down the corridor, followed the sound and saw colorful lights flashing on the wall outside the war room cautiously peered through the doorway to find it transformed.

The room smelled of pine from green garland intertwined with colored lights traversed up the stairs and across the crows' nest rails, the entryways with hanging mistletoe, and among the library’s shelving accouterments were cinnamon sticks bundles and all sorts of holiday themed figurines.

Standard in the center of the map table was a Douglass fir tree, twice as high as Sam, covered in white lights, ornaments of all shapes and sizes, popcorn and cranberry strings intermingling with tinsel, and sitting atop was a silver star. The whistle from the electric train, weaving through a scenic mountain town running the length of the table, pierced the air.

 “What..the..fuck?”

“Language like that will get you on the naughty list.”

Y/N spun around to see a diminutive person with pointed ears dressed in a dreadful green and white tunic, leggings and curled toe shoes.

 “Oh fuck no,” she started skirting around the creature, “I’m getting my gun!”

Dean came bounding down the libary steps making her think he was as lit up as the decor, “they're not evil, they're the good guys.”

“Dean Winchester, what do you mean by they’re?”

Elves appeared from everywhere, all dressed in a similar fashion had Y/N on the verge of panicking when Dean gripped her left hand like when Sam had hellcifer hallucinations, “Y/N do you remember Gilda the fairy?”

“The one you guys cockblocked Charlie on?”

“That was unintentional..although the two of them together,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “so Gilda directed these..elves..to us for what exactly?” 

“They need our help to hunt down what kidnapped Santa Claus.”

“Let me get this straight,” Y/N said to the head elf as they sat gathered around the library’s table, “every December sixth a chosen person becomes the vessel of Santa for the season.”

“Yes, because of the good deeds St. Nicholas did, that essence was extracted before his soul went to heaven, to continue his work.”

“Right, so when you discovered it had disappeared why couldn't you,” she waved her hand, “and get it back?”

“Our magic is limited to assist Santa and can only be used for,” he gestured around at the decorated rooms then waved his hand, and cups of hot chocolate and assorted cookies appeared in front of them.

Stuffing his mouthful of cookies like a squirrel Dean asked, “do you have any idea who took the Santasence?” 

“We think it was Krampus.”

Dean swallowed loudly, “as in the evil bastard whose girlfriend possessed me and made me almost kill my brother Krampus!” 

He got up heading straight for the liquor decanters pouring a large glass and downing it, “fucking awesome.”

“They were compatriots, not screwing,” Y/N says, getting a sour look, Dean's good mood evaporates like his liquor, “do you have evidence it was him?”

Another elf handed her a piece of light colored bark gets a mortar and pestle, drops it in and adding a few other ingredients, grinds them together then tossed in an igniter watches as blue flames confirm it's been handled by something demonic.

“Least we know how to gank it,” Dean remarks.

“You can’t,” the elfs began squeaking.

Dean wearily rubbed his face, “Okay, if we can’t kill it, let's trap it in a puzzle box.” The elf shook its head no, “then what the hell can we do?”

Drumming her fingers on the table, Y/N mused, “if we can track down the original spell,” she got up and started thumbing through the card catalog, “I can ask Rowena to tailor the enchantment, limit Krampus’s influence to only his vocation.”

“We have to get back to the workshop.” the elves gathered together, “remember, you only have until the stroke of midnight between the fifth and sixth.” In a blink all the decorations disappeared along with the elves.

“Dean,” Y/N hesitated, “I..I know you dislike research, but since Sam’s not here, I need your help. We have less than sixteen hours to find and rework the spell, track down Krampus, and get the Santasence back.”

“That was a waste of time!” Y/N snapped made Dean glance up from the stack of files he was working through, “Rowena went to Australia with some guy because quote ‘if she’s ‘gonna have to celebrate this bloody holiday the Christian’s co-opted from us, it’s ‘gonna be somewhere warm and in style’.”

“Hmph, sounds like Rowena. I found this,” he handed her several old photocopied pages, “the real Santa supposedly died on December sixth, explains the rebirth timing but Krampus' origins are not clear. Legend is he’s one of Santa's companions, they travel together rewarding the good and punishing the bad children on those nights, explains why the elves freaked at ganking him.”

Picking up even older parchment papers Y/N hummed, “interesting fact: normally he’s under Santa’s control, the whole good always triumphs over evil dogma, makes me wonder how he slipped his leash. Lucky for us, the Men of Letters aquired a list of ingredients used but not the actual spell. I can concoct one similar but the problem is finding someone strong enough to cast it since Rowenas fucked off, only other person I know of is that guy the Brits use, he sets my teeth on edge,” she says fiddling with the choker.

“You know that’s one of the reasons Sam and I have been arguing more lately,” gesturing to her neck, “he thinks you’ve worn it long enought to prove that I can trust you.”

“Dean, I knew how you felt about witches and I would’ve told you about my being one. But then we got together and I was scared you’d hate me if you knew.”

“I’m not gonna apologize for certain feelings I have about witches. I know I can be a real bastard..”

‘..more of a jerk,” she cheekily smirked.

Dean got up and walked behind her, “I trust you,” he says brushing her hair out of the way unlatched the clasp, slipping the choker off her neck, “and since your creating it, it’s only right you cast it.” 

“This can’t be right, are you sure that tracking spell you used works?” Y/N frowned taking in the well lite, cozy looking cottage with a smoking chimney surrounded by fluffy snow sitting in the middle of the nowhere Kansas plains. “We only have a few minutes left.” 

“Bobby didn’t use janky spells,” Dean gruffly remarked, “this is the place.” He pulled his Colt 1911A and stepped up on the front porch prepared to kick the door in when it opened reliving a white bearded man.

The man, who was the chosen Santa, explained how they ended up there, “and Castiel figured if you only had each other to rely on, it’d make you realize Y/N has more than proved you could trust her again.”

Dean's incredulous look made Y/N giggle, “feathers is either cleverer than he seems or he’s one devious assbutt.”

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @b3autyfuldisast3r @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirll @siospins2

[chessanator]

7 and 14!!!

Thanks for the ask, @graceisprettygreat! (From here)

7. Share a line/paragraph/snippet that you were especially proud of from a work this year!

Two things that could fit this:

First, a bit from Purity of the Machine. The most important section, even if not necessarily the best, is the part where I transition Luna from thinking that robots are down-trodden in a Cyberpunk to realising that she's actually as high-status as you can get. Luna waking up in the palace is a major step in that.

For the third time in her life, Luna awoke. She was lying on a marble plinth, looking up towards a bright ceiling. Hexagonal panels tessellated perfectly, many subtle shades of blue merging together to form the image of an open sky. Just like her Rhizome Nine’s Botanical Garden.

When Luna sat up she saw that this was also a garden. In a space twice as wide and three times as long as her own botanical garden plants grew, flowers bloomed, fruit ripened, fields of grass danced in the fanned breeze. And though the plinth she rested on was at the centre of a cobblestone courtyard, it was also ringed with life. Arrangements of flowers in every colour imaginable surrounded the marble base like a halo.

Luna jumped down from the marble plinth, allowing herself a few skipping steps forward as she touched down on the floor. Then she examined herself. She was no longer wearing that deep purple hoodie that’d taken her on her odyssey through the city. Instead she was back in a long flowing dress and lilac blouse: a genuine relief. For a moment she could have mistaken it for her own, familiar dress. But it was something more. With each step she took the patterns of white thread shifted across the Tyrian purple: spinning petals at first, a bird jovially flapping its wings, a pair of hands clasping in agreement. Some sort of nanotechnology woven into the fabric made this all possible.

As a last check Luna checked her birdcage ornament. It was back where it was supposed to be: a necklace, hanging at her chest for all the world to see.

Second, and while it doesn't quite count as a 'line/paragraph/snippet', I was really quite irrationally satisfied with the chapter titles I used for my ZEcret Santa contribution this year. It was Santa ---> The Bringer that got me started on this. I knew from the beginning that Hazuki would give us the view from the street of the Funyarinpa crisis, so the connection through the peaceful Lotus eaters slotted in naturally. I even got to make Junpei, no codename just Junpei to work (albeit by relying on fucking Kant), and Ace ---> Highest/Lowest fit perfectly even though his epilogue was a last minute addition. The only real trip up was where Snake ---> Two-Pronged strike got locked in when his chapter covered both SOIS and Crash Keys infiltrating from opposite directions, while Akane covered the aftermath, and by the time I realised those needed to be the other way around I couldn't get anything to fit.

14. Give us a sneak peek of one of your upcoming works!

'Upcoming' is stretching it a bit - as always, TUoHS is years away from publish - but here's the concluding section from Haruhi's Free-Time event in chapter 26. (I'll leave it under a read-more for anyone concerned about spoilers)

“What’s got you wound up, Haruhi?” I asked.

For the first time since she’d started staring out the window Haruhi glanced my way. “You think I’m wound up?”

I glanced down to where her fingers were white-knuckle clenched around the neck of the guitar. “Yeah, I think so.” I thought for a couple more seconds, then added, “It’s something about what Ultimate Despair’s doing out there. It’s gotta be.”

Haruhi locked eyes with me for a couple of seconds. “Yeah, you could say that,” she eventually replied.

I considered saying, ‘Can you spell it out for me?’; in the end it was unnecessary.

“I don’t know how they did it, but whoever it was who started Ultimate Despair won over a ton of people to their cause. They destroyed all those targets in those terrorist attacks, conquered this school and the entire region around it, had governments around the globe scared to death of them.” Haruhi’s glower had grown almost radioactive. “They changed the world.”

I nodded, solemnly.

“It should have been me. I’m supposed to be the one who changes the world. No-one else. Me.”

[rayroa]

Hiss Golden Messenger Q&A for Creative Loafing Tampa Bay (2024)

Photo by Graham Tolbert/All Eyes Media

I'm gonna put some ear buds in here then it'll sound a whole lot better.

OK, and let me know if it sounds bad because sometimes it does sound bad on here. I've been listening to Pecker Power today, on your recommendation. 

Oh, really? Yeah, follow that. Follow that page?

Yeah, my buddy told me to follow it. And it's great because you forget that it's you. It's just like a picture of a record in your feed. And then you just make a decision for that  moment. ‘Yeah, alright. Let me find that, man.”

I love having that weird little Instagram account that's not trying to sell people anything—nothing. I'm just talking about dorky music stuff. It's kind of like my vibe right now. 

And you have The Kitchen Speculator, too. It's cool that you have these outlets to communicate. It's like a less cynical version of social media, or iteration…

That's right, man, I'm trying to keep it kind of keep it pure.

Hey, I know that fall is your favorite season, but I can imagine that the winter is kind of beautiful in the North Carolina Piedmont. And correct me if I'm wrong, but I remember listening to a podcast or something where you talked about your mom's felt Christmas ornaments with these bells on them. I was wondering, since we're in January, is yours the kind of family that has a tree still up? And do your kids know the sentimental value of the ornaments?

Do they know the sentimental value of the ornaments? Yes, definitely. I don't know if they see it as heavily as I do, but they definitely are aware which ornaments came from my mom. And no, we don't keep the tree up because I love the pageantry of the season—there's something very nostalgic and comforting about things like Christmas lights for me—but I also really appreciate the moving on of January and the feeling of a fresh start if you need it. I kind of think deep into the season and also I'm ready to move on, so I think we had our tree out of the house like just a few days after Christmas probably.

That's an aspirational thing for a lot of families, so it's cool to hear that you have your house in order to that degree.

It's really how I'm wired though. I'm a little bit of an OCD kind of person. So it kind of is in line with that.

Yeah, you gotta check these boxes. You gotta get through the day. I mean, it's kind of a less sexy version of getting a stone up a hill, you know, let me get this tree down first, and move on to the other stuff.

Yeah, kind of.

By the way, I realize there's no way we can like adequately talk about songs in 20 minutes, and I think a lot of people have said a lot of things about Jump For Joy already, so I'm just gonna let those songs kind of speak for themselves and maybe ask some kind of other questions around the band and whatnot.

You've mentioned that the songs are kind of like a long postcard between you and a younger, maybe teenage, version of yourself. And in a way the record's also kind of recalibration of your songwriting, and you're wearing hope, in a way, on this record, and I was thinking about that word "recalibration." And then I was thinking of the band and the fact that Hiss Golden Messenger doesn't do the same show twice—that's a lesson you learned from elders. I want to ask you about this live set. I know after that initial run, you said that the band is sounding good, and the shows are pretty uplifting for everyone. Especially now. Everything considered in the world. Simple question, and I'm sorry, I don't know the answer already. But who is in the band for this spring run coming to Tampa?

Yeah, the band is and has been for several years: Chris Boerner, playing electric guitar, Sam Fribush on organ and piano, Alex Bingham plays bass, and Nick Falk plays the drum kit.

Perfect, and the Hiss Mobile recording unit will be on tour as well. I'm wondering, to stay on that recalibration, Mike. I know that you unpack a tour after a run. How has that recalibration kind of manifested itself within the context of the band? Can you tell me a little bit about how the songs from Jump For Joy have already changed as the shows stack up? And what have these songs revealed to you about themselves in this context, and this run?

It's interesting to take a new record out on the road because we had played a lot of these songs a lot during 2023 before we recorded them, but not in the way that we have been over the past two or three months. The more times you play a new song, the more you learn about how it's working in that sort of heightened or amplified, emotional, state of a live show. And you also see how it's working for the audience. There might be a song that seems like a home run for the audience, and it just isn't like connecting the way that you thought it would and, and conversely, you're gonna find a song that you might have had a question mark about just in terms of how to present it—and it becomes its own.

A song like "Jesus Is Bored " on Jump For Joy. I love that song. I have a super-deep connection to that song; in a lot of ways it kind of feels like a thesis for the record, but it's not the loudest song, it's not the fastest song. I just didn't quite know what kind of quality it would take on live, and it's taken on a really beautiful thing that kind of unfurled really slowly and in a really extended fashion. That's not something I was anticipating at all, but it went there, and I was like, 'This is how we play this song for people.' That's one example of how stuff has started to exist off that record.

That's awesome, and I like hearing your talk about feeling the audience and being aware of it. I think some people would assume that some performers kind of blackout and I guess, to some degree they do on stage, but it's cool to hear that you still get to live in that moment of the live experience that you're creating in this space. 

It's a transcendental state for me. So my experience of it is, like I said, is heightened for sure—emotionally, physically. But at the same time, I can feel the energy in the room even if I'm not looking at the audience directly in the eyes, I can feel what the energy is. I would say I'm usually pretty on the money about what an audience wants, what an audience needs, what an audience can take. This is just stuff that, when you spent enough time on stages in front of people, you start to learn how—you can read it.

In that vein, and that kind of context, transcendental memory in that state, are you able to remember anything about geographic locations? Like can you remember, how crowds in Florida have made you feel or is it not like that?

Oh my god, that's a good question. I mean, I want to be diplomatic about it.

I mean, it's OK to be forgettable man.

I don't want to be that dude in the paper that's complaining about the place that he's playing. That's not a good look at all.

Listen, there's a lot to complain about in Florida from a legislative standpoint, historically there are some things...

You don't need more from me. OK, I'll put it this way. I'm fascinated with Florida. I'm not against Florida, you know what I mean? And the last time we played in Tampa, I think, was at a festival many years ago.

It was called Gasparilla Music Festival.

Yeah. And I had a fucking great time. I thought it was really cool. And I thought, 'Tampa seems cool. I'm into this place.' So if I had to talk specifically about my experience with Tampa, that's what it would be: I had a great time in Tampa.

And Tampa has changed a lot, I think as much in the same vein as it has up there with you guys as far as people's concerns about affordability and who matters and what voices get amplified and acknowledged and conversations from a civic standpoint, and things like that. So I think our regions have experienced similar growth. 

No doubt.

I want to ask you about November 27 Kitchen Table Speculator. You opened with poems from Diane di Prima and Joy Harjo. You talked about the possibility of a sunset on an empire and whatever this collective thing is that we're witnessing, but then you also talked about holding on to joy and pain and magic and fear all at once—you know, back to getting that stone up the hill. Sorry to kind of bring it down here, but I think I heard somewhere that in spite of all this narrative about joy and this album, in some ways, you're still like the same depressed guy, but you kind of alluded to how the band is bringing some joy and happiness. I'm wondering chemically, or in the inner wiring, how and in what fashion does it change you to play these "happier less cynical songs" every night? Or does it all stay up there, then you get back to the world when it's over.

I mean, this is a multi-part question. First of all, I wouldn't say that I'm the same old depressed guy. And I don't know that I ever would have described myself like that. I definitely struggle with depression and probably always will in some fashion, but also think of myself as a very fun, funny person that can be as light and easygoing or as heavy as the situation calls for. Probably, if you were to ask my bandmates, "Is Mike as heavy as some of the songs might make them feel?," they would say like, "Not at all." So that's that part.

I think that Jump For Joy, in so many ways, is totally consistent, thematically, with the music that I've made all throughout my life as Hiss Golden Messenger. I think that I was working really rhythmically and thinking a lot about tempo for Jump For Joy, and that was very intentional. But in terms of the way the songs exist, the chords that get used, the things that were troubling me, or bringing me joy and peace—that stuff on Jump For Joy feels like it's pretty consistent with the rest of my work. I feel like what people are reacting to when they think of this record as more joyful, which I would agree with, is just the musical feel of  the record, if that makes sense. 

No, it does. I think from the get go—even on your lo-fi recordings, which I spent some time listening to in the run up to this interview, and revisiting those—there is still this devotion to groove throughout the whole thing.

That's what I'm saying, man. Even the Hiss Golden Messenger songs that are at the slowest tempo, everything always grooves. That's always been almost the most important musical quality of what I do as Hiss, I think. Everything has to feel like it's in the pocket, it's in some kind of pocket, you know? That's really important to me.

Now that you're saying that kind of that out loud, I think of my first—you know, you only get one first time listening to a band—but those first few listens, I think, is interesting how Hiss music does kind of embed itself within whatever tempo you have going on in your life and sometimes Hiss music doesn't fit with whatever's going on in your day at the time, and you realize that, "Oh, this isn't the record for me right now. I gotta find something else." So I've always appreciated that about your music, for sure.

I want to ask you about mystery. I think you've talked about kind of craving mystery and this time of digital media, and endless access and over exposure in a way. What is your mind wandering and wandering about and around today?

I'm working on a lot of projects right now that are Hiss adjacent. I feel like I am just starting a quest—and who knows how long it's gonna last—to find my way back into not knowing, if that makes sense. I'm trying to find my way back to a feeling of mystery and magic. I want that to be the first feeling that I feel when I pick up an instrument. And I'm not saying that I don't feel that already, but it just occurs to me in this moment of our time, that that feels almost like the most important part of music, both as a listener and as a creator—the mystery. So I'm really honing in on that feeling whenever and wherever I can find it. I feel like certainly, part of this year for me is going to be about encountering the mystery, the not knowing, the freshness, the experimentation—encountering it wherever I can find it.

And it's such a wonderful excuse to really work on you're listening, too, whether it's physically listening with your ears or just body listening and emotionally trying to be quiet and tune in.

That's right, man. That's right.

By the way, I liked that you mentioned that you're probably funnier than people might think you are because when I found out that Johnny Fritz was in your “Nu-Grape” video, I immediately went to it because I think he's like, the funniest and best like songwriter with a replaced hip out there.

I mean, that guy is so fucking funny.

But you met the moment in that video. I feel like you two had good, parallel, complimentary performances that were rooted in humor.

Oh, dude. He made that video. I don't even really know Johnny that well, but I'm a fan. It feels like we know each other kind of well now. But before that video, as we were conceptualizing what it was going to be, who, all that stuff, I was like, "We're gonna get Johnny Fritz. It's really like the only way that this concept works, or someone like Johnny Fritz." But I couldn't think of anyone else. I love being with him because he's so funny, and has so many different characters, but he's also a super deep, super smart dude—he's not turned on like that all the time. He's also like a real deep cat.

The songs really mess you up when you're listening to him. He's got those records that like they'll kind of hit you on like the eighth or ninth kind of listen, and you're like, "What did he just say?" You thought it was a song about riding in a tour van,  then you realize that he kind of deconstructed this emotion inside of you about abandonment and things like that and it feels intentional once you kind of see it. know?

And I'm sure it is. He's an extremely astute person.

I know we're kind of getting short on time. Mike. I want to kind of go back to happy songs, sad songs, and I want to talk about how those emotions are kind of complex in their own way. Some would believe those emotions are complementary. I know that there is an art to finding the language to write songs about happiness. You mentioned you know, "Jesus Is Bored" as a song that's kind of transformed for you in the live setting, but do you feel like there are songs on Jump For Joy that include both happiness and sadness, in a way, and using language that you're pretty proud of? As far as being a songwriter and being a person?

I think every song on the record is a combination of both at the same time because I've always wanted that to be my mission as a songwriter: to be able to convey like the fullness of being a human—as grandiose or as lofty is that sounds—to convey the fullness of being a human in a song. Part of that, for me, feels like this idea that not everything is either happy or sad. My experience of the world as I walked through it is that everything is both of those at the same time. I mean, not everything, but you know what I mean? My experience mostly is that I'm feeling both at the same time. And I've really chased that ambiguity intentionally over the years with some very specific things that I do technically, from tuning a guitar in a certain way to like leaving the chords very undefined. So yeah, it's a little bit of a cop out answer, but I really think my best songs are songs that feel happy and sad at the same time.

That's a great answer, especially for at the end of a short interview, which I know we're at the end here, and I wanted to kind of leave with this question, maybe. You mentioned you know this mission for this year about encountering that mystery, that not knowing the freshness, that experimentation, and trying to touch it wherever you can find it. Can you maybe tell me—I don't know maybe from a mechanical standpoint or practice standpoint—what does getting small and quiet look like for you? Like, how do you get there?

Well, getting small and quiet isn't the same for me as encountering the mystery because I've actually been doing a lot of work with a lot of different musicians lately. It has been kind of cacophonous in a way. But to answer your question of what it means to get small and quiet, I mean, I think it means me going back to the room that I write in, with a guitar or whatever instruments, and a notebook and, seeing what happens. Sort of surrounding myself with the creative input that still fuels me. There's tons and tons of poetry in this house, there's tons of records, and this is just my place. There's tons of guitars and amplifiers. It's just my place to be sort of quiet and meditative, I guess.

Well, Tampa will be grateful when you get out of that place and come visit us for a few and I think we would all like to join you on the Kamayo Cruise but we'll let you eat cruise food for three days on your own there.

Cruise Food. That's a good name for a band.

It is a great name for a band—that should actually be the sequel to "Nu-Grape," just call it “Cruise Food.”

Haha, that's funny. OK, dude. Well, thank you so much. Thanks for the good questions, actually, they were great.

I really enjoyed talking to you. And thank you for making the time for me and thank you for all your music. It's, been great to have in my life. So I hope you have a great week.

Thank you, brother. Thank you, I appreciate that.

Of course. Bye.

[tinkkles]

I have been playing jambit for 3 hours and I am only halfway to resetting infamy I seek death

[leafs-lover]

Because Two People Got Drunk

Cookie Crumbs and Hot Chocolate Mustaches

Series Masterlist

A/N: Just a little holiday blurb featuring my OG family. For reference Oliver is 22, twins are 19 and Elise is 18. Hope all of you have a safe and happy holiday season.

Warnings: Very obvious Christmas and holiday references, alluding to smut, fluff, maybe a swear word

Word Count: 1900

The house is perfect. A ridiculously large Christmas tree in the living room that barely left space for the Star of David to rest, covered in twinkling lights, years of handmade ornaments intertwined with blue pieces. Stockings hang off the mantle, the menorah centered on the dining table. Lights you made Fred hang flank the driveway and eaves trough, a light dusting of snow evident on the lawn. A piece of mistletoe Fred insisted on hanging is in the kitchen.

Chrismukkah has once again exploded in your home. Everything is ready, except for one thing.

The cookies. And those will be done by dinner, once your very excited helper arrives. But for now, it’s just you and Fred with the entire house to yourselves. Knowing that will be short lived, in a few hours everyone will be arriving for Christmas Eve, you want to make the most of it.

The late December sun has barely begun to rise, the dark morning air filling your bedroom for at least the next half hour. One dim lamp from Fred’s bedside table is all that illuminates your bedroom. Rolling to the other side of the bed and stretching out your hand you find one of his thick thighs, not his chest. Prying one eye open you see him, sitting upright staring ahead, having removed the covers from above his waist, exposing his shirtless torso. Resting on the bedside table is one of your Christmas mugs that’s about 15 years old, the picture long ago faded from the dishwasher, a small chip on the handle.

“They were so cute then,” you smile, looking at the kids in matching Christmas outfits with reindeer antlers.

“Yeah, we made some cute kids.” Chuckling he presses his lips to yours, once, twice and a third time. Firm but short kisses, grinning between them. “And those children of ours will be here soon.”

“Hours,” you laugh. Crawling up him your hand drags along his abs, slowly trailing further up his chest. “They won’t be here for hours.” Your tone is soft with a hint of need, thinking of what you have planned for the morning.

You and Fred, naked. A mess of sweaty limbs, soft moans and uneasy breathing filling the air as you trade orgasms.

Over the past week Lucas and Elise have sporadically been in the house, rarely at the same time as they catch up with their friends from home for during Christmas break. Today, being Christmas Eve all your kids are back for the holidays. Oliver with Addison and Thea, Elise, Charlie and the Marner’s, Luke, Noah and Michelle, it’s going to be a packed house in about six hours, but right now it’s just you and him, and you want to take ahold of the opportunity.

“We have so much to do,” he explains. “Gotta shower and start the day.”

“Don’t go,” you whine, a playful pout forming on your lips.

“But babe, Thea’s coming.” His copper eyes light wide brighter than the lights on your Christmas tree.

Shaking your head you can’t help the chuckle that leaves you. “In like six hours,” you grin.

With a brief kiss, the taste of coffee and Baileys lingering, he throws the blankets off and begins to head to the bathroom. “Thea’s coming, there is so much to do!”

The sound that clawed past your lips was more of a desperate disgruntled groan. Exaggeratedly you fall onto his side of the bed, sprawling out across the mattress as the sound of running water can be heard. Flipping onto your back with a sigh you stare blankly at the ceiling.

You can’t be mad, one of the things that drew your attention was how unconditionally he loved your children, that nothing was more important to him. You aren’t even a little bit surprised by him affording the same love and affection for Thea. It doesn’t mean you aren’t disappointed, but you’re not surprised.

“Elskede,” Fred calls from the door to the bathroom. Turning you quirk an eyebrow at the sight before you, Fred wearing absolutely nothing, his hardened member on full display. “Come shower.” With a smirk he nods towards the shower, waiting for you to scramble out of the bed, eagerly stripping your clothes in the process.

“No Fweddie, that’s for the gingerbread house not eating,” Thea giggles. Sitting on his knee she looks so tiny against him.

Ignoring her scolding he reaches into the bowl to grab another Hershey’s kiss, but this time brings it to her mouth. Eyes beaming with icing surrounding her lips she opens wide, eagerly accepting the sweet.

“See they look pretty on the house, but they taste even better.”

“Mhm,” she nods.

Turning you look over at them. Thea sitting on his lap, wearing the purple sparkly dress you bought her for her birthday a few months ago, deep brown eyes are wide, a hot chocolate mustache above her lips. She is a goofy and carefree three year old, constantly laughing and smiling, but also one of the sassiest kids you have ever met. Sassier than Elise was as a child, which you never thought possible.

Fred is completely over the moon, basically hasn’t let her out of his sight since she walked in. With the three of them down in Milwaukee and Oliver’s busy schedule you don’t get to see them much during the hockey season. The last time you saw them was over four weeks ago, and Thea was sure to let you both know it was way too long the second she walked in.

“Dad stop feeding her candy,” Oliver groans, watching him hand her a marshmallow.

“Relax. It’s fine, a little candy never hurt anyone.”

Completely ignoring Oliver he grabs a handful of M&M’s. Holding his palm open she leans forward to pick out the red ones, her self-proclaimed favourite of the Christmas M&M’s. Carefully she brings one up to Fred’s mouth, opening his lips she sets it in for him to eat.

“She won’t sleep tonight,” Oliver protests, but you can hear the defeat in his voice.

“Obviously,” you laugh, setting another mini candy cane on the board. “She’ll be too excited about Santa to sleep, it will have nothing to do with all the yummy treats she eats.”

“Any more candy and she’s sleeping with you guys tonight.”

“Deal,” you grin, passing her a piece of a KitKat unphazed by his threat.

More and more people trickle in throughout the afternoon, eventually the house is packed. Thea hasn’t stopped laughing, essentially spending the entire night with either Fred or Oliver. Half eaten trays of vegetables and fruit, meats, cheeses and crackers, bowls of candy, platters of cookies and deserts litter the counter. Containers of empty eggnog, wine and beer bottles, bottles of rum cover the bar.

The music can barely be heard over the multiple conversations happening across the room, the smell of dinner slowly filling the air. Elise, Noah, Charlie and Michelle are engaged in a very heated game of Monopoly, likely causing more noise than everyone else as they argue over every move.

All you are waiting on is your perpetually late child, Lucas. He told you he would arrive at 2, which you knew meant 3 at the earliest, more likely 3:30. Today he is extra late, it’s almost 4 before he finally walks through the door. Greeting his siblings and giving Thea a big hug he finally finds you and Fred, setting some plates around the table.

“Hi Lucas,” you smile. Setting the dishes down you give him a hug, as he places a soft kiss to your cheek. “You’re late,” you scold jokingly.

“Am I?” he laughs.

“Yes you’re late, even for Luke time,” Fred jokes.

“I was ready, it was Riley’s fault,” he explains, with a slight smirk.

“Who’s Riley?” you quirk an eyebrow. You and Fred being close with your kids know most of their friends, or at the very least have heard of them. Riley is a name you have never heard before.

“We’ve got some classes together, been going out for a couple months now,” he explains, with a sparkle in his eye.

“You want to introduce them to this craziness after that short a time? Must like them if you’re confident they won’t immediately run in the opposite direction,” Fred laughs as Thea comes running into the side of him legs almost knocking him over in the process. Bending down he picks her up, accepting the doll she hands him.

“Fweddie, come play with me?” she tries to pout, but the coy smile pokes through.

“I’ll help,” Lucas offers, taking over for Fred.

“Tell me about Riley,” you prod once the table is set.

“Actually, why don’t you see for yourself?”

Turning your head to the hall you see Riley standing somewhat awkwardly in the doorway, glancing around the room he smiles upon spotting Lucas. Walking over Lucas places a soft and brief kiss on his lips before pulling away to introduce you, a hand resting on the small of his back. He is of similar height to Lucas, his hair is a wavy dirty blonde with light strands sprinkled in. “Mom this is Riley, Riley this is my mom.”

Riley sticks a hand out to introduce himself but you just laugh in response. “We hug in this family,” you explain. He chuckles in response and gives you a soft hug, a bright smile still pressed on your face when he pulls away.

“Nice to meet you, this is for you Mrs. Andersen,” he explains, handing you a bottle of your favourite wine.

Shooting your son a knowing glance you return your attention to Riley. “Please never call me that,” you laugh, “I’m YN. And thank you, but you didn’t need to bring me anything.”

“Told you,” Lucas singsongs.

Almost instantly Fred is sliding in beside you wearing a cape with a costume tiara on his greying red hair. Thea is on his hip a half-eaten cookie in her hand and multiple plastic necklaces around her neck. “Hi, I’m Fred,” he introduces himself.

“And I’m Thea,” she proudly announces.

“It’s nice to meet you Thea. My name is Riley.”

“Do you want to come to my tea party? Fweddie and Charwee are coming, I have cookies,” she points to a small white table in the corner.

“Can’t say no to cookies.” Grinning, he follows Fred and Thea to the child sized table. The three men squeeze into the miniature chairs, their knees higher than the top of the table. Thea hands them each a plate with a Christmas cookie and a stuffed animal, a must at every tea party she hosts.

“So I’m gay,” Lucas chuckles, drawing your attention back to him.

“I pieced that together,” you reply. “He make you happy?”

“Incredibly happy.”

“That’s all that matters.” Saying nothing else because nothing else is needed, you give him another hug, pressing your face against the knit Christmas sweater on his chest. “But Luke?” you push your head back to glance up at him.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t blame Riley for you being late.”

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[estrel]

Christmas, Early Mornings, and How to be Free

destiel december 2020 prompt: decorating | wc: ~1.3k

[READ ON AO3]

Dean often forgets that angels don’t sleep.

The soft knock at his door at—he checks his clock—four in the morning, however, serves as a gentle reminder.

He sits up, brushing off popcorn crumbs from his shirt, and blearily rubs his eyes. Dean hadn’t been sleeping, per se, but he was drunk and dog tired, eyes burning from staring at his TV for what must have been hours on end.

His door opens and light from the hallway streams in, bright like the white-hot burn of an angel being killed. Dean blinks once, twice, and there stands his own angel, a hand on the door knob.

“Sorry to wake you,” Cas mutters. “Ah, Jack and I were wondering if you were—if you wanted to help us with something.”

Dean looks at the clock again, more for show than to actually read the time, before redirecting his gaze back to Cas.

“It’s four in the morning, Cas.”

Cas shifts his weight. “I don’t—”

“You don’t sleep,” Dean finishes for him, already throwing the blanket off of himself. The wave of cool air over his calves where his sweats ride up make him shiver. He pulls the fabric down back over them and stands.

“Yeah, I know. And lucky for you, I barely do.” Dean comes to a stop in front of Cas. “What’s up?”

Cas pushes the door open and turns, leading the way for Dean to follow.

“Jack and I—we were discussing the bible,” Cas starts.

“As you do.”

“—And Jack was curious about how humans celebrate the birth of Christ.”

“Uh-huh.” They step through the kitchen and Dean eyes a half-eaten snack on the table. He quickly nicks it, gives it a once-over, and takes a bite. The taste of chocolate caramel nougat makes him let out a low groan of satisfaction.

Cas shoots him a glare over his shoulder. Dean shrugs.

“He told me you all celebrated it once,” Cas continues, “Along with some other holidays, though I can’t imagine how I managed to miss that. Anyway, he has friends in town that celebrate the christian Christmas, and now he’s got…um, ideas.”

Dean frowns. “What ideas?”

They round the corner into the library, where Dean’s confronted with several large boxes that are set on the nearest table. Scattered around them are various decorations like ornaments, tinsel, and what look to be Santa hats in a few different colors and patterns. Dean’s gaze pulls away from the mess to look at Jack, who has his arms elbow-deep into the box nearest to him. He smiles wide at Dean.

“You’re awake! Hey—is-is that…my candy bar?”

Dean looks down at the bar and stuffs what’s left of it in his mouth. He holds a finger up when Jack pouts, chewing until he can form words.

“Finders keepers, kid,” he swallows, “It’s a lesson you gotta learn while you’re still young. What are you doin’, anyway? What’s all this crap you’ve got out?”

Jack’s smile is back as he pulls out an ornament. “Christmas! I thought we’d decorate.”

Dean blinks at him. “Dude. Four in the morning.”

He hears Cas sigh and turns his attention to him instead. “I’m serious! You couldn’t have waited a couple more hours? And hey, wait a second—how come I’m up and Sam’s nowhere to be seen? This is, like, his usual wake up time.”

“It is,” Cas says, “He’s actually out on a jog right now, he said he’d be back to help with the baking.”

“The—” Dean runs a hand over his face, pressing briefly over his eyes to wake himself better. They’d already done Christmas this year, and all the other holidays, for that matter. Of course…

He opens his eyes.

Not with Cas.

Dean lets his arm drop back to his side and strides the few steps over to Jack, picking his favorite ornaments out of the box from when Mrs. Butters had first showed them to him. He hands a blue one over to Jack.

“Besides,” Jack studies the bulb, “We’re starting late. Christmas is only a week away, and I know people who start decorating in November!”

“We don’t even have the tree up yet,” Dean grumbles in feigned annoyance. “Hell, we don’t even have a tree.”

“Sure we do,” Jack says. He turns and points over at the table behind them. A small tree no more than 16 inches tall stands bare in the middle of the table.

Dean stares at it, eyes wandering over to Cas after a beat for an explanation. He’s standing on the other side of Jack, now, and catches Dean’s gaze.

“It’s fake,” Cas says, “We found it with the decorations. It’s…a substitute—at most—for now.”

Dean nods slowly. “Okay,” he accepts.

After that he finds the smallest bulbs that won’t take up too much space on the little thing, passing them to Cas who hands them to Jack to put on the tree. Working like clockwork, the tree is decorated sooner rather than later, and Dean straightens up in time to hear the front door open with a metal squeal.

Sam steps inside, closing the door behind him, and looks down at the three of them with a smile. He pulls an earbud out.

“Nice tree,” he says, clamoring down the stairs.

Dean, feeling strangely defensive, mutters, “Up yours,” and rifles through the box for something to fling at him. He comes up short, but Jack rids them of Sam as he bounds off to meet him in the kitchen, giddy to start on their baking as soon as possible.

Dean pulls out a Santa hat in the wake of it just being him and Cas in the room and, holding his breath, turns to place it on Cas’ head.

Cas stares as Dean slips it on, adjusting it here and there so it sits right, pulling away lest it becomes too...

Cas catches his arm before Dean can withdraw it.

“How...How come I get to wear the hat and you don’t?”

Dean chuckles, pulling lightly in an attempt to get out of Cas’ grip. Cas tightens his hold by a fraction.

“’Cause you look better in hats? I dunno,” Dean mumbles. He feels his heart racing, chances a glance over to the kitchen where he can hear Sam and Jack clanging baking supplies around while they set up to make the cookies. 

His eyes meet Cas’ again, dropping momentarily to look at his lips before Dean forces them to stay on Cas’ baby blues. 

“That’s not true,” Cas frowns, “You are very attractive for someone of your gender and age.”

Dean swallows hard, face warm. “Yeah?” His voice comes out higher than intended, so he clears his throat before speaking again. “Thanks.”

Cas lets go of his wrist, backing away a little. “You are welcome.”

They stare at each other, transfixed, and Dean thinks Cas looks more innocent with this hat on, more so than, say, that cowboy hat Dean had made him wear once. Almost silly enough for Dean to let his guard down, to lean forward, and—

Cas' breath ghosts over his cheek and chin in their newfound proximity, faces just a few inches apart.

Dean licks his lips, once, and closes the space between them. He presses his lips softly to Cas', trembling a little due to the action. It's chaste, and feels simultaneously like it lasts an eternity and only a few seconds—something Dean thinks only Cas is capable of doing.

And he knows, dazedly, that it's likely the latter, even if a lifetime was lived in this moment alone. Dean pulls back to stare at Cas like he just hung the stars rather than some simple plastic ornaments on a dingy fake Christmas tree, holding his breath as he gages Cas' reaction.

This close, Dean can see Cas' pupils blown wide. The angel has that look about him that Dean remembers seeing a long time ago, like a soldier with newfound freedom—unsure where to go or how to use it.

Dean licks his lips again, and though his hands are still shaking when he lifts them to cup Cas' face, he feels his mouth smooth into a smile.

He ducks his head to kiss Cas again. And again. And again, until they hear the shout that the cookies are ready, and Dean takes Cas' hand in his.

Freedom isn’t a length of rope, Dean thinks, but rather a red string, tying them together and guiding them home every time without fail. Maybe they could teach each other, this time—about Christmas, early mornings, and how to be free.

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[keilemlucent]

daddy keigo: christmas special

mostly sfw, suggestive content

warnings: daddy kink, christmas, gift-giving, keigo getting a wittle weapy, uwu

...

hello! better late than never, here’s my little christmas drabble for the day. enjoy loves!!!!

...

“Daddy, come on, I gotta get up!”

You hoped Keigo would be unsuspecting, as it was quite early in the morning for you to be hauling yourself from bed. How hard would it be to convince your mostly-asleep partner that you just needed to piss-- obviously, there wasn’t anything else going on.

Keigo grumbled, wings fanned out and rippling in his sleep as he reluctantly let you go from his arms. 

“Get back here soon,” Keigo said into the pillows, eyes still shut and body still slack. “Miss ya’, little bird.”

Your heart squeezed with glee as you gave him a final kiss before beginning your mission.

...

Keigo had been spoiling you. Gifts, treats, and presents for the past month as Christmas loomed. Despite all of the many treasures he purchased for you on the spot, a large pile of well-wrapped gifts had been appearing under your tree as the snowy month has gone on. Whenever you tried to worry about it, insist to Keigo that, “I know you’re my daddy, b-but isn’t this a lot--?”. 

He was always quick to quiet you, quick to hush you with greedy hands and knowing words, “You’re daddy’s good little bird, and daddy knows best.”

He did know best, you trusted him and knew that he did, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have your own plans for the holidays up your sleeve. The compulsion to make this holiday a particularly special one ran strong, as this was your first holiday together and able to celebrate it properly.

You flicked on the bathroom light and shut the door from the outside, hopefully fooling Keigo in his sleepy-state. Slipping into the guest room, your dropped onto your tummy, fishing with open hands under the bed. One by one, you pulled out wrapped gifts, one you’d collected and hid over the past several months, well and secretive. 

Keigo was kind enough to help you have an existence that didn’t require a job, not now at least. You’d dropped your full-time position sometime ago, after thorough discussion and a lot of internal turmoil. Keigo was more than happy to provide, feathers ruffling at even the opportunity to truly provide for you in such a way. Being home more meant Keigo could stop by at nearly anytime in his tumultuous schedule for a bit of welcomed and easily-given affection.

It also gave you time to spirit away during the day and gather presents and supplies for the holidays. 

You had an allowance to spend, one that you’d greedily gone all-out with in the weeks prior. There were more than enough enchanting markets and places to wander and gather from.

...

Pulling out the last gift, you carefully, quietly, began padding to the living room and positioning your new parcels under the tree. They joined the stacks already there, fineries and kindnesses Keigo had amassed. 

He deserved his own, of course.

You wondered how he did it. Keigo was one of the nations best heroes, who had the world on his shoulders most hours of the day, yet he still managed to make time for you, have energy for his little bird and all of your whims, so often mutually held. 

You wanted to spoil Keigo as well. 

He deserved it and you decided to provide if you could.

Once you arranged everything as you liked, you clicked the lights on and finished your own preparations. Slipping into a soft two-piece set (coordinating with one for Keigo, wrapped under the tree) and knit stockings that you settled at your mid-thighs, you started slipped away once more to make coffee.

Notably, it was early for you to be awake, especially after such a... long night before. Once or twice while you were on your knees arranging the gifts, you nearly gasped at your residual aches and pains. But, it was all worth it, even with your soreness and sleepy eyes.

It caught up with you as you yawned in the kitchen, patiently waiting for the gurgling coffee machine to finish brewing.

You gaze went wide as arms looped around your waist, clasping between your ribs. 

“Thought ya’ said you were coming back to bed,” Keigo whined against your neck. “Not making coffee. It’s too early, we need more sleep.”

You let a smile play on your lips, one he wouldn’t be able to see. 

“But I wanna open presents,” you whined, facing him with a spin and nuzzling your nose into his. “... Please?”

Keigo rose to his full height, eyebrows raised and looking as stunning as ever. Despite the bedhead and T that littered his shoulders the neck, he was still as effortlessly gorgeous as always.

He gave you a grin, golden and glowing and all for you, “Greedy, and this early too?”

You pushed out your bottom lip, giving him a sweet frown, “It’s Christmas, Kei’, please?”

Keigo dropped a quick and sharp slap to your outer thigh, one that had you falling against him with a yelp.

“Only because you’re so cute.”

He has no idea.

...

And Keigo didn’t. 

You dragged him by the wrist to the living room, decorated and fragrant with the lingering smell of evergreen and cedar candles. He slowed as the tree, something not-too grand but decorated with a hodgepodge of shared and crafted ornaments, came into view. 

Reverently, you watched his expression shift. He was most honest through his wings.

His hand squeezed your own, thumb rubbing yours as his wings fluttered a few times behind him, unbridled and unhindered in your presence (no pun intended.)

His gaze was glued to the extra stacks of gifts, done up with your own glimmering wrapping paper and handmade bows, “... What?” 

You couldn’t contain yourself any longer. 

You tugged him to the tree, dragging him down to the soft fabric at its base. Keigo was still somewhat frozen, almost rigid in your grip. Swallowing down any potential anxieties, your shifted so your knees touched, parallel.

“I am a little greedy, but I mostly wanted to surprise you,” You beamed, grabbing one of the most flimsy gift from the top of the stack. “You should open to this one first.”

Keigo’s gaze was still wide and owlish as he accepted the parcel from you, “... Why?”

“Look and see, daddy. I think you’ll like it.”

...

And fuck, did he. 

It was a simple set, just a soft long-sleeve and bottoms, lightly patterned with faint stars and moons. Still, Keigo noticed immediately as his gaze flickered from the fabric stretching over your thighs and the bundle he held in his hands.

“They... match?” Keigo wondered aloud, unable to stop the way his jaw fell open.

You beamed even brighter, if that was possible, “They do! So we can match today, and that’s just one of the things I got you!”

And Keigo got it. That entire fucking mountain of presents that rivaled the one he’d amassed for you belonged to him. 

He must’ve been staring at his, mouth still agape, for sometime.

Your wobbling voice pulled him from his stupor, “... Is t-this okay, daddy?” 

Keigo perked up, breath catching as you pawed at your face, eyes shining with little tears, “I wanted to surprise you, but I-I understand, t-this is a l-lot--”

“Hush,” Keigo quieted you, trying to keep his voice firm and authoritative enough while his wings flexed and trembled behind him. He gave his own shaking breath, tsking under his breath, “My little birds been planning and hiding such a big, precious secret from me? And got away with it? I’m impressed.”

You sniffled, tears already drying, “I was r-really sneaky. You had no idea.” 

He didn’t. Keigo had hardly noticed any sneaking around, and surely what he had picked up on, he didn’t connect to the sweet pile of gifts you acquired for him and the matching fucking pajamas--

His breath caught in his throat, eyes welling with his own tears, rare and precious. 

You wiped a bit of wetness off his cheek with a thumb, giving him a little, ever-attentive smile, “Do you want to change into those? Then we can open the rest?” 

Keigo tugged you forward, into his lap, thighs over his own to tuck you cheek into the crook of his neck, “I’d like that a lot, little bird.”

(You took care of him, as much as he took care of you, even if it was more implicit.)

And he hoisted you over one shoulder, starry loungewear over the other, carrying of with a flourish of high giggles and excitement for the day. 

[bimbosupreme]

mephistopheles love post

the equivalent of a mental breakdown tangent is all going under a read more

yes believe it or not that freaky ass literally not even human clown in fgo gets love, and love from who? me and like 3 other people

first off

ok and with that out of the way,

i’m not even familiar with their lore. Reason why i stopped caring about the lore behind faust and mephistopheles is that an interlude happens that shows that mephistopheles is just some homunculi made by some mage nobody named faust. and even then the interlude doesn’t talk about the lore behind the novel, its just you helping mephy kill faust

that being said though i would hope the developers expand on their origins more and potentially even release a “true” mephistopheles (a girl can dream)

So, they’re not even the real deal demon known as Mephistopheles in the first place, and i can hear u going “well that’s lame” and like, no, we just need to redirect our feelings from appreciating a demon to appreciating a homunculi who has a weird characterization in the fate universe

Design tangent:

Fgo was actually my first gacha, and so when I came across this servant I kinda instantly fell in love with their design, I love the colors used in their final ascension and overall appearance. The hat that has horns but they're not quite horns, theyre these weird colorful pointy twisty things, the large garish butterfly ornament on their chest (which isnt ugly at all and somehow works so well with their everything on them) is cool, the tights are so cool to look at, i mean look -- a checkered pattern with golden lining on the shorts portion, the tits out look like yes we get it youre insane, the gloves??? purple and also cool, plus theyve got this gradient thing going on? and the fingers have this line going through them, thats so cool. actually the only other servant that comes close to this in terms of “out there” colorful designs is probably final ascension kama and qsh ( i love them both). Also, mephy has this scissor weapon?? thats so cool lol i dont see any other servant wielding giant scissors (for the love of god give mephy an animation update i need to see them use the scissors while doing flips) and they also have this bomb obsession going on? cant relate, but the bombs designs are so so cool i mean its a fucking centipede -- no idea if centipedes are a thing in the original faust but thats something Ill have to look up at some point. ALSO mephy is wearing heels oh my god anytime people wear heels is an automatic win. No clue whats going on with the hair but its kinda cute (dont question me on that) and it has curls and the hair colors are cool i mean its like a lavender thing with darker purple highlights? i love colorful things and i love people with wacky personalities so. Oh my god their tail how could i forget that its so cute and dumb i almost forgot it was there, like what is that even a whip? i dont.. but its got these little purple tips to them that are kinda cute/cool but more cool because tails are fucking up there alongside heels in terms of cool stuff on characters. and of course their fluffly cape -- again no idea what the designers were going for i mean look its a mess of a design i have no fucking idea what any of it means and i hope they explain it someday because that hair and the butterfly and the tail and the hat and the fluffy garb and a bomb obsession?? and this got the go ahead - yeah lets add that to the game like what

ALSO LETS TALK ABOUT THEIR EYES

appreciate these with me for a second

god.

oh and the blue lipstick and face paint god thats a cool design ugh

they can be normal too or at least as normal as possible i mean they even trimmed their eyebrow here lol but you can see the not so well hidden insanity/goofiness peaking through with the inside of the suit at the bottom being highlighter purple and a green shirt with gold accents underneath the black coat at the front <3, fuckin hate that hairstyle tho bro we gotta get that middle part hairstyle outta hereeeee--

TAKE A DETOUR AND LOOK AT THIS LINK THOUGH THIS IS THE MOST NORMAL AND BEST IVE SEEN THEM IN FANART. THE POTENTIAL IS THERE. WE CAN HAVE NICE THINGS AND THEY LOOK GREAT ITS POSSIBLE. I HAVE TEARS STREAMING DOWN MY FACE FROM THAT DRAWING.

anyways this is me going off all about why i like their design! but we haven’t even touched the nitty gritty of it all. their personality! what personality you may ask? havent they always been some weirdo laughing a lot and saying dumb shit all the time? well yes and no

Characterization:

True to their dumb little clown design mephy also acts like one.

Some servants bond 1 lines are like “fuck off” and some actually talk to you, nah this bastard mephistopheles’ just laughing. and for the second bond line it seems to imply theyre fuckin with you more (showing up and dissapearing and saying ‘afterimage’) so thats nice that theyre actually making some effort to mess with you in a way? some servants take a long time to actually interact with you so this shows theyre not afraid of interacting with you and thats just at bond 2. and of course the third bond line implies they were probably trying to betray you, its stated in more than 1 place that mephistopheles (actually isnt this a caster class thing?) will betray you or attempt to do so. So the third bond line seems to imply that their attempts have been stopped by you and that’s what they say after some failed attempts. So after stopping this freak from doing some shit their next bond line is actually doing a confession! a jester being honest who couldve seen that one coming but theyre 100% not lying, they really arent a demon but a homunculi made by faust

speaking of faust we’re going to backtrack a little into their interlude that i brought up at the start of this post, its one of those dream interludes and it starts with mephy asking you to help him plant bombs for their eventual reuinion/showdown with faust -- in the meantime faust keeps sending golems in an attempt to kill both you and mephy

When you track faust down, it’s shown that faust was your typical mage, inhumane and uncaring. It’s also pointed out that this faust killed innocents, but this typical mage behavior is boring to mephy, and they say that boring typical behavior is why they wanted to kill them

 so i really cant blame mephistopheles for being the way they are, being raised by this type of guy, even if mephy was always messed up and wacky from the beginning its no reason for faust to attempt to kill him.

Mephistopheles also shows up in salem, cu alter’s interlude, and of course the knk crossover event, and some other things im most likely forgetting but those 3 are ones that i find notable

anytime they show up theyre actually helpful, in salem mephy points out that the nature of the being responsible for the salem epic of remnant is something alien rather than a typical foreign god, mephy also tells you that time is also being sped up and in their weird way they try to cheer you up by spouting some nonsense at the beginning (guda needed some kind of distraction from the grim events that had just transpired at that point in the story), i cant quite remember what mephy did in the knk event but they were a part of your group and were helpful the whole time, actually @/zeravmeta does an amazing analysis of their role in the knk event as well as some extra character analysis here

mephistopheles is kinda cryptic in a weird way though,

like overall i mean theyre a jester homunculi in appearance so yeah its to be expected but come on i love morally gray characters, despite their supposed betrayal hints scattered around here and there

they have this one line that always gets to me

and this line is said with a completely serious face too

the rare serious mephistopheles face! its kinda grim to see that line, no laughs, no nothing, their voice is kinda serious and monotone too. of course this could be just to get you to lower your guard but its still kinda out there that they have this rarely used portrait and that line, so i like to take it as being said to you when youre by yourself and with sincerity

and at least sei (with her wacky outfit and all lol) seems to get along with mephy and thinks theyre nice woohoo

so at the end of the day you have this guy that laughs a lot and gives mixed signals

and they fuck with you

and will most likely try to kill you more than once but hey thats just another tuesday at chaldea

Before I finish last thing I want to point out is this snippet from the fgo source material book which provides more information on servants, and this specific translated bit under mephistopheles

at the core of it all this homunculi....can be your friend! you just need to not go into despair i guess

of course this entire post is an overanalysis into an underwritten character, quarantine + all online college classes have done this to me, i have a douman icon what did you expect

OH...BEFORE I REALLY SIGN OFF AND FINISH THE POST HEY CLOWN LOVERS CHECK OUT THESE FANARTS AND FANARTISTS...

THE FIRST ONE IS HASENDOW YES THE DOUMAN DESIGNER... <3

i cant believe they drew mephy

twice !

and for those of you on twitter check out @cuz_pb and @L0VEYAMA003

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mission of Mercy: One

“Where’s she headed?” Bucky asked watching the woman loading the back of her small SUV with a duffle bag and assorted odds and ends.

She was a friend of Sam’s, one from his days at the VA, Bucky knew, but he couldn’t remember her name. Sam had got her the gig with SHEILD. I guess he figured they all needed counseling. Or a team mom. Or whatever it was she did. Outreach, Bucky figured. Generating good PR. 

“Looks like a mission of Mercy,” Sam said with a small, slightly sad smile. Bucky looked at him for explanation and Sam sighed, instantly looking sadder and a few years older. 

“She’s a third generation Army Brat,” Sam explained. “Dad never came home from Desert Storm and Brother didn’t come back from… whatever the fuck he was doing. Mom was a VA nurse before she retired… So Y/N knows a lot of grumpy old fucks that don’t like to leave their houses. She makes rounds a few times a week still, for the people she’s known since she was just a kid. Friends of her dad’s, some cousins twice removed.”

Bucky exhaled slowly and nodded. That he hadn’t known. He’d never really paid that much attention to you. But now he looked again. You were packing down styrofoam coolers with what looked like milk, eggs, cheese, and assorted lunch meat. And you had a few labeled boxes of cans. A couple cases of beer… That made Bucky smile a little. And he could respect what you were doing. 

“Y/N!” Sam called across the motor pool, “Who’s on your list?”

“Joe, Rocky, and Cooksy, at least for today,” you answer, “Mac and Wild man are still in the nursing home for rehab.”

“Joe, huh?” Sam said walking over, Bucky trailing after him looking confused.

“You wanting to go along?” you ask, smiling, tightening the ratchet straps that held the styrofoam coolers in place.

“That old man still owes me a rematch,” Sam said grinning. 

“Rematch in what?” Bucky asked, catching a case of beer that had started to slide of it’s perch and slotting it carefully into an open space for you. 

“Dice,” you snort, “Sam swears he cheats.” You give Bucky a smile of thanks and slot a small gift bag in next to the case and Bucky has to look away from you. His face feels hot and he feels like you’re looking through him. So he looks at your hands. Work roughened. Nails bitten to the quick. Useful hands. Not just ornaments at the ends of your wrists. Efficient. 

“He Does!” Sam’s voice breaks through Bucky’s distraction and jolts him back to the world. Back out of his head. And for that, Bucky is momentarily grateful. And a scolding gasp from you immediately makes him too aware. 

“Get off my bread you fucking heathen,” you grouse, only half playing as you give Sam a shove away from a bag.

“My bad,” Sam said, quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, “You got a minute though?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “Go get your stuff. I don’t want to wake Joe up before he’s ready.”

Sam gives you a grin and trots off and Bucky sighs, mentally trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his day. He didn’t want to assume he was going. 

“Joe did intelligence work during WWII,” you tell him, “You guys can always swap some bullshit stories… If you want to come.”

Bucky looked at you. You aren’t looking at him, instead you’re leaning on the bumper of your car and looking somewhere not quite the middle distance, but at something, anything else. And he can’t decide if you’re nervous or just awkward. And he can’t decide how he feels about making you nervous. He was nervous. His palms felt clammy and the rolling in his stomach couldn’t decide if it wanted to be butterflies or hornets. 

“Joe won’t mind?” Bucky asked. 

“A friend of mine is a friend of his,” you say, and Bucky can see that the corner of your mouth is upturned in a smile. “He’s a cousin… kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“He’s a cousin of a friend of my mom’s… He used to look after me sometimes when mom had to run a night shift.”

Bucky nodded, “That-” he couldn’t decide if that was “nice,” or “Cool,” or “weird.” 

“He taught me how to draw in three point perspective, gamble, and make a decent martini,” you say, and Bucky can hear the fondness in your voice. “Most importantly I guess, he never let me be a weirdo by myself.”

Bucky let himself chuckle. And when you chanced looking up at him, the rolling in his stomach decided it was butterflies. 

You were smiling. The kind of smile that would be seductive outlines in red. But right now? With no make up on and your hair falling out of a haphazard ponytail? You looked like a kid about to cause trouble. And he wanted to see what trouble that was going to be. 

Sam retuned before Bucky could formulate something flirty to say. Something that wouldn’t sound too dirty or too corny. Something that might make you swoon a little... though. As you swore at Sam across the motorpool telling him to hurry the fuck up, Bucky doubted very much that you had ever swooned in your life. But he could absolutely see that having a grumpy old man baby sit you had had some other amusing outcomes. 

Swear words didn’t look like they fit you. Your mouth was too sweet looking and the words were too blunt and ugly. It looked like they would fit wrong and come out worse. But. The way you said them was so casual. As if you had never not said them. And that… For some reason, tickled Bucky. He likes smart girls. He liked girls with a temper. And listening to you bicker with Sam just… It definitely burst some more butterflies out of their cocoons. It was nice, Sam having to put up with a smart mouth instead of being the one to dish it out. 

__________

The drive was fine. 

Sam didn’t even complain about the music you played. A blend that gave Bucky whiplash and something of a headache behind his eyes. But. That wasn’t your fault. A lot of the music past his own time did that. 

The Audio bombast of discordant sounds and coded meanings of the ever evolving slang was… a lot. So he mostly focused on the scenery. The cars. The people. The sky. The architecture. That helped. Some things about New York would probably never really change. There were more people now. Fewer dresses and more people in pants… And fewer roving packs of kids. But. It felt the same.

It wasn’t until he was standing on the doorstep. He and Sam looming over you like bodyguards that he noticed differences. The lack of washing hung out to dry. The consistent low hum of multiple air conditioners. The lack of kid noises. The lack of… community. The way everyone was together, and apart simultaneously. 

But when the door swung open slowly, and Bucky was greeted by a little old man. One with thick glasses, a bald head, and stooped shoulders. A neck that made him look like a turtle… A sudden warmth washed over him. 

“There’s my favorite ray of Sunshine,” he said, pulling you into an unembarrassed hug. The kind men in his time reserved for their mothers and beloved children. “And my second favorite pain in the ass!” he said, rasping a laugh as he clasped Sam’s hand in his. 

“I moved up a spot,” Sam chuckled.

 “Eh, the neighbor’s dog died last week,” Joe said, giving Bucky a steady, appraising look.

“Aww, Bear died?” you say sadly, “poor old man… How’s Irene doing with it?”

Joe turned back towards you and chucked you under the chin gently with a small smile. Bucky didn’t miss the tears that had welled up, and evidently, neither had the old man. “She’s heart broke,” he said, “But, she told me to tell you he loved the blanket and it made his last couple weeks more cozy.”

Joe stepped back and ushered you into the house, letting you pass him to go and quietly pull yourself back together, Bucky figured. The butterflies in his stomach catching a sudden chill. 

“Who’s he?” Joe asked, arms folding across his scrawny chest as he straightened himself to his full height… or as close to it as he could manage.

“Winter Soldier,” Sam said grinning, clapping him on the shoulder before going to get the stuff you had for him out of your trunk.

“No shit?” Joe said, adjusting his glasses.

“No shit,” Sam answered, calling over his shoulder. 

“Well Son,” he said to Bucky, “Come on in. I gotta add a bottle of Jack to my grocery list… it looks like I lost a bet.”

And Bucky can’t help it. He laughs.

In the Hall, just inside the door, Bucky  can hear you rattling around. It sounds like dishes being done. And maybe a broom being used and Joe shakes his head. “She’ll make someone a nice wife some day, but fuck if I know what kind of man could handle her.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if that was for him to hear or just Joe Musing to himself out loud, but he smiled anyway and followed him inside. On the walls, there were pictures. Covered bridges, flower gardens, portraits… Presumably of people that the old man knew. Or had known. And the smell of dust and old paper. Decades of smoke from meals cooked and packs of cigarettes. It smelled like age. A sepia tone that mellowed and dulled all the colors around him. But somehow there was nothing harsh. Or forbidding. 

“Will you sit down?” The old man groused, “I have a broad that comes in and does all that shit.”

“Then you’re paying her too much because she ain’t been doin’ it right, old man,” you tell him over your shoulder as you rinse a plate. 

“Bah,” Joe said, flapping his hands at you. Clearly realizing that this wasn’t a fight he could win as he lowered himself into his spot at the kitchen table. “Siddown, son,” he said to Bucky, “Take a load off and let these stupid kids do the grunt work.”

“Kids,” Sam scoffed, putting boxes on the counter with an eye roll as he nudged you.

“I hear him,” you snort. “Careful old man,” you tease, “You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin and at your age, replacement parts are hard to come by.”

“Listen Heifer,” Joe said, eyes dancing behind his thick glasses, “If you wanna kick my old ass, you better pack a lunch.”

You shake your head, and pull the top off a styrofoam cooler, “I got your lunch meat and some eggs. That was it right?”

“Yup,” Joe said, “How much do I owe you?”

“A Dr. Pepper,” you answer over your shoulder, making Joe give you a stern look. 

“Young Lady-”

“You’re not giving me money, ya old coot,” you say, more fond than scolding as you kiss the top of his bald head.

“The hell I’m not-”

“I’ll tell momma and she’ll have both our asses. Me for taking the money and you for payin’ me.”

“She’s got you there Joe,” Sam said, grinning. 

“You shaddup,” Joe said grumpily, eyeing your back. And Bucky could see he was trying to gauge how likely it was that he could slip you some money without you knowing you’d been given any. Bucky grinned and Caught Sam’s eye before bumping the table with his knee to get the old man’s attention.

Once the Old man’s sharp eyes had fixed on him, Bucky glanced meaningfully towards the coat rack. Where your jacket hung so conveniently.And Joe followed his gaze, he grinned and touched his nose in acknowledgement. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ do it,” you say not turning around. 

And Joe made a silent “rats” gesture, before sticking his tongue out at your back

[they-dont-get-my-back]

A customer (Chapter 1 out of 2)

Protagonists: Jeno Lee, original character, NCT Dream members mentioned Genre: mystery, noir, self-knowledge “Jeno wanders to a mysterious bookstore where he encounters even more mysterious individual, but somewhere deep down Jeno knows that this story is actually only about him.” TW: none 

See other members’ stories here:

TBA

Author’s note: When I saw this particular moodboard, an idea sparked inside my mind. With a constant support from my friends, I finally finished the first half of the story that I am presenting to you now. Thank you for your love and kindness, this is for you, I hope you’ll like it :) Special thanks to Woo and Volpe for proofreading <3

Any feedback, reactions, comments, recommendations or ideas for other members’ stories are welcomed, I wouldn’t mind turning this into a series.

Tagging: @neocluefor , @your-local--trashcan​  Let me know if you want to be added!

A dark, dim evening, the sun had just set, bits of the dusky orange sky shone through the maze of power lines, chimneys, rooftops and posts. As Jeno was walking down an empty tucked away backstreet, he felt like he set foot on a hidden crossroad between two worlds. The feeling of the unknown and the unexplored sent shivers down his spine and he quickened his pace, as he did not wish to get held up at here any longer than necessary. He told his manager he just wanted to grab something warm to eat and stretch his legs a little, but the truth was… He wanted to be alone.

Not so long ago Jeno realised he has a very rare gift – a gift of invisibility. Wherever he’d go, no matter how many people surrounded him, he felt unseen and unnoticed. Jeno, we need you to voice over this ad. Jeno, we need you to shoot a dance video. Jeno, we need you to smile for the photos. No, no, do the thing with your eyes, yes. Oh, you’re still here? We don’t need anything now. Sorry, were you saying something? Listen I gotta go, talk to you later maybe? Everyone knows Jeno the idol, but how many people have heard of Jeno the person? How many people remember Jeno the friend from school, Jeno the boy next door? What’s the point of rushing back into dorms, if he’s going to feel all the same? At least at here I can hear my own thoughts for a change. Without having to fight to get a word in. Noone’s interested in what you have to say anyway, so be a man, Jeno, and go sulk somewhere where people don’t have to look at your sorry face. Hmm, jjamppong sounds nice.

He walked where his feet led him, hands in the pockets of his coat, eyes staring blankly on the passing pavement tiles, red tiles, black tiles, grey tiles, shapes and figures, forms and contours. His mind unfocused, his thoughts scattered. Stop. Wait. Like in a dream, he saw himself standing in front of a narrow door, black paint flaking away, a few variously shaped and randomly placed yellow window panes, a big brass handle waiting to be pulled. He noticed a little oval plaque in his field of vision and the next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of a bookshop. A minute passed, maybe ten, maybe an hour. Jeno glanced around, scratching his head. „Uh… good evening!“ He bowed his head a little, even though he didn’t see anyone at the counter. Nevertheless, he felt like he’s being watched, scrutinized, evaluated. Something was staring at him and Jeno suddenly wished that he was invisible again. He turned his head to where he felt the uncomfortable feeling coming from and there it was - behind the desk, on the left side of the wall, squished between large overflowing bookcases, right next to a tall wooden coat-stand shaped like an old tree - a red door with a big round opened eye painted on it. The door was opened, just a few centimetres, and a faint piano music was coming from inside. Come in, if you dare.

Jeno cleared his throat. Might as well look around properly, before they come back out. It’s no use of shouting or trying to make myself heard while that song is still playing. Listening to the melancholic but somewhat promising tune, Jeno inspected the surroundings. The shop looked messy and untidy. Chaos was the king of this castle, carelessness the lady of this household and together they ruled over their tiny land made of heaps of books, magazines and papers haphazardly placed on each other, shelves full of postcards and pictures, walls covered with ornaments and embellishments. Without a single tag or label in sight, Jeno wondered how could anyone find anything in here. He imagined the miscellaneous objects flowing into the shop and never leaving again. His gaze landed on a flashy pink paper packet filled with chewing gums in a no less showy wrapper on one of the shelves. Cool, a freebie! He reached for the gum, unpacked it and threw it into his mouth only to immediately pull a disgusted face as he chewed into the candy. It was like biting into a tasteless rubber. He spit it back out into the crumpled wrapper, put it next to the rest of the unused gums and set out to look for a trash can. He tripped on the thick dusty carpet and nearly stepped on something that looked rather expensive. This must be a bookshop with super rare prints and antiquities of some kind, this isn’t a place for me, I don’t fit in here, I should leave. And so, he stayed, bound in the place by a force of increasing curiosity he did not quite understand.

The piano stopped playing. Perfect, now’s my chance. „Hello? You, uh, have a customer! Heh…“ he stuttered awkwardly. Jeno wasn’t the type of a person who would enjoy excessive attention. If he ever tried to voice his opinion and was met with disregard or unconcern, he would simply think it was because his opinion on that matter was stupid and pointless. That’s why he was fairly used to this, not being heard. The only difference was that usually the rest of the members would fill the room with their chatter, so his lack of involvement in the group activities would normally go unnoticed. Unlike here, where the only sound was a deathly silence and Jeno’s thoughts humming in his head. He already spoke twice, what more does he need to do to be heard? Raise his voice? I just want to buy a book and get out of here. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak and right at that moment, the piano started playing again.

„Wha-, are you kidding me?“ he mumbled quietly under his breath. He looked around, confused, as if he was looking for understanding and sympathy from the other angry customers waiting for their turn to be served. He was the only one here and yet they’re making him wait. What is this, a private concert? Did they possibly saw him coming? Did they think that they’ll impress him with playing lowkey creepy piano melodies? This better not be a prank. He really wasn’t in the mood for fans and he didn’t think he could fake a smile at this hour. But he didn’t notice any hidden cameras, or any security cameras at all for that matter. He paced around the room nervously, scratching his neck. That’s it, I’m leaving. I don’t need that book anyway. I don’t need anything. If they don’t want me here, that’s okay, I’ll do just fine on my own.

He made a few strides towards the front door and then turned around again. „Hellooo! I came here to ask about books! Books that you happen to be selling!“ he raised his voice to the most pleading yet still polite level. The piano stopped again and Jeno gazed hopefully at the red door. He started walking back to the counter, slowly, carefully, as if he didn’t want to scare off the possibility of finally being served. He leaned on the desk, ready to place his order, tapping his fingers impatiently on the dark wooden surface. And just like that, as if it wanted to laugh directly into Jeno’s face, the piano started playing yet another tune, as impatient as Jeno himself. He pursed his lips and bent his head down. What the heck is this place, huh? A bookstore or a concert venue? At least serve some coffee and cake next time! He could just leave, never come back and forget about this place. But he really needed that book, he’s been looking for it so long, and he knew, he just knew, that this is the right place to look for it.

„Alright!“ Jeno raised his head and pointed his index finger to the door, from which the music was coming. „I’m going in there! And I’m going to knock real loud, so you better not be scared or surprised or angry!“ I doubt they can hear me, he thought, as the music only grew louder and louder. Okay, here we go… He approached the door behind the counter, cautiously, and with his finger still pointing forwards he tapped on the red wood with his nail a few times, gingerly, like he was expecting the door to bite his hand, after a while he shook his head and finally made a few feeble knocks. He put his head inside with a quiet: „Excuse me…“ and peeped into the backroom. As soon as his foot touched the threshold, the music stopped playing and Jeno opened the door wide. The room was small and empty, safe for the piano by the wall. No other door, windows, cabinets, electrical appliances, boxes, merchandise, not even trash. Just four bare walls and the damn piano that he swore was playing just a mere second ago.

Jeno gulped, his hand on the doorknob, his feet midstep, his whole body ready to run in the even that something would go wrong. Now now, be brave. „Hello?“ his voice was dry, hoarse and small. Goosebumps covered his nape. „Oh! A customer!“ said a voice behind him. „JESUS CHRIST!“ Jeno nearly fell back onto the ground, as he made several hurried steps backwards, tripping over boxes, books and papers, knocking over the tree coat-stand which embraced him in its patulous grip, making him feel trapped. „Can I help you?“ said the voice and as Jeno’s ragged breath started to decelerate again and as the stars stopped dancing in front of his eyes, only now he saw a pale face hovering in the shadows of the dimly lit place. The initial shock was over and, gradually, the face grew hair, and connected with a torso, arms and legs. „I…“ Jeno stuttered as he finally untangled himself from the clasp of the coat-stand and stood straight, „came here to buy a book.“ He clutched his hand near his heart and blinked hard for a few times. Get a grip, man, get a grip. „Then you’re in the right place! After all, this is a bookstore and we store all kinds of books,“ smiled the face that no longer resembled a ghost, but a person. „I’ve been… waiting here for 15 minutes… at least.“ He tried to sound angry, but the truth was he wasn’t really sure of how much time he actually spent here. Oh my god. A thought just crossed his mind. What if they’re already closed and I didn’t notice and just practically barged in here demanding to be served?!?! He wiped his forehead and opened his mouth to apologize for his intrusion, but before he could say anything, the figure in front of him spoke again. „Gosh, but I didn’t hear or see you at all!“ said the person, covering their red coloured lips with their hand. Typical. „I… tried to…“ Jeno sighed. If they didn’t hear me, I should have made more effort I guess. „I apologize, I’m sorry for the inconvenience I caused you.“ He bowed his head slightly. The person, dressed in a silky black dress that rustled with every step, fixed their dark eyes on Jeno’s apologetic face and shook their head disappointedly. They passed Jeno, who hurriedly backed out of their way, bumping into the red door, oh, I could have sworn the eye was open. huh, weird, and started to rummage through the bookshelves and bookcases, opening drawers and cabinets, dancing around all the clutter with their feet bare, without knocking over a single thing.

„So?“ asked the bookstore owner, combing through a particularly overflowing drawer. „Sorry?“ „Which book are you looking for?“ Jeno resisted the urge to facepalm himself and laughed nervously instead. „Ah, the book…“ Wait, the book? What book? „Umm… the book,“ he frowned. Why is he here again? He finished his schedule, yes, and then got out of the car sooner than the rest, because…? Because I wanted to buy a book? Uhh… I guess? „Um, yeah, I was hoping to get a book about the history of-“ „Hey!“ the character was now standing in the middle of the room, their arms crossed in an irritated manner, the long red painted nails tapping angrily. „Did you eat my chewing gum?“ You IDIOT! And you even left the wrapper and the actual gum right there on the shelf, ugh! „I’m really sorry,“ Jeno started apologizing at the double, „it was just sitting there, I thought-“ „How did it taste?“ asked the owner. „Um…“ Jeno blinked a few times and frowned. „Weird,“ he answered, looking down at his feet, like he was feeling guilty and disappointed at the same time. „I remember really liking this brand and it surprised me that is tasted so… stale,“ he answered truthfully. The woman sighed. „No wonder. It’s a special edition, a collectible. It’s been sitting here for five years. And now it’s ruined.“ She took the whole package in her hands and shook her head, discontented. Who the hell stores a pack of freaking chewing gums? „I guess I should have treated it better, maybe all the exposure made it tasteless and bland.“ She clicked her tongue. „What a shame. But at least the wrapping is still colourful and pretty to look at.“ „Uh… yeah. Sorry about that.“ She put the gums back in place and resumed with the thorough scouring of the area. „What book did you say you wanted?“ Oh, yeah, the book. The damn book again. „Ah, yeah, um… I was interested in the techniques of-“ „How about this one?“ The woman, currently kneeling down by one of the huge bookcases, proposed. Jeno stared at her, eyes wide. She reached under the furniture, scrabbled and felt around a bit, until she triumphantly retrieved a blue hardback tome. Just what is going on in here?  

Jeno watched the woman get up again, dust down her knees with a sigh, and then walk back behind the counter. She put the book on the desk and Jeno finally got a good look. The jacket was dusty, creased and torn in a few places. There were no pictures or details, it was just… blue. „Sound…” he read out loud. „Sound?“ Jeno raised an eyebrow. „That’s the title, yes.“ „It looks like a… heavy reading.“ He took the book in his hands to weigh it, it must be at least 500 pages long. „And pretty expensive.“ „It’s a poetry book, if you’re worried about the pages. And you don’t have to pay me for it.“ „Ah, I-… Wait, what? You don’t want me to pay you for it?“ „No, because I am not selling it to you. I’ll only let you borrow it. I‘ve always wanted to read it, because I am curious about the story, but… Do you sometimes get the feeling, be it a book, a movie, a photograph, or even a new pair of shoes, that it’s calling out to you? And when you finally get it, it’s like it’s your missing puzzle piece that you didn’t even know you need and it makes you complete?“ „I… guess, yeah.“ But not really, no. I can’t remember the last time I had this feeling. „Well, turns out, this book doesn’t complete me.“ She packed it in a plain paper bag and sealed it with a decorative tape. „But it might complete you,“ the owner said expectantly, sliding the wrapped book towards Jeno. He touched the paper and for a while, the room drowned in complete silence and time stopped, like a movie that froze and only showed a single frame. A frame with a book wrapped in a plain paper bag in the center, a woman’s hand with red fingernails touching it on the right, a man’s veined hand touching it on the left. Jeno’s hand.

He moved his fingers the tiniest bit and with them, the book. His body was immediately hit with a wave of electricity, the time unfroze and Jeno sighed heavily, leaning against the counter, like he just ran a hurdle race. „Will that be all?“ asked the owner with a kind smile. „I… can’t just take it.“ „You already did.“ She pointed towards the book Jeno was hugging anxiously, like he was afraid someone would steal it from him. He looked down, sighed again and finally stood up straight again. „I can’t take it for free. Even though I’m just borrowing it. How do you know I won’t run off with it?“ „Are you a thief?“ „No, but… I could be!“ „Well, in that case… How about you leave something behind then, like a pledge? I quite like the ring of yours,“ she pointed on Jeno’s hand, which he quickly pulled away. „That’s… it’s not anything fancy, and it’s bent, twisted… it’s worthless.“ „I’ll lend you a thing that’s worthless to me and you’ll lend me a thing that’s worthless to you. That’s a fair deal I’d say.“ She held out her hand. Jeno hesitated. What will the others think when he comes back without his friendship ring? They probably won’t even notice. „Alright…“ he took off the ring and rolled it around for a bit in his hand. Then, with a guilty feeling, he placed it in the owner’s hand, immediately regretting his decision. „Thank you for your purchase, have a nice day and see you whenever!“ he heard the woman say with a smile, pocketing the ring quickly. Then the door behind him shut with a loud bang and he was staying outside, with a book he didn’t know he needed and without a ring he didn’t remember wearing.

[sly-merlin]

Killing Me - 6 | n.y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre :    angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au , smut

warnings of this chapter : use of few curse words. weapons

summary : “life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

    or              

                         “  curiousity got the cat hitched”

taglist :: (not tagging the old ones because they have read it already bt if u want , lemme know! )  @yiyi4657​ @sorrywonwoo​ @sillywinnergladiator​ @suhweo​ @exfolitae​ @minejungwoo​

K.M masterlist

k.m 5    k.m 7

NOTE : K.M 5 WAS POSTED BUT IT GOT REMOVED FROM TAGS SO YOU CAN NAVIGATE FROM HERE!

“CONGRATULATIONS ON THE WEDDING MRS. NAKAMOTO!”

And yuta’s words kept ringing even when he was gone. Mechanically, your hands were balled into fists, anger rising. You were not feeling bitter at his words, for you didn’t expect anything better from him. But he shouldn’t have attacked your dignity in front of strangers.

only five minutes had passed and you were already encumbered with the weight of the ornament.

Your eyes were fixated on the place where yuta stood earlier. Each and every presence in the room could easily sense your aggravation for the man.

After a few more moments of silence, Kun took your hand in his, dragging you inside with him. You were startled at his sudden action but nonetheless tagged along.

“We are having brunch, whoever wants to eat can join us!” he announced whilst  facing forward.

You both passed the open kitchen to halt at the big dining hall packed with a large table and what looked like countless chairs. It was just twin room of the hallway, with just more accommodation.

“The house doesn’t seem this big from outside though?” Kun chuckled as he set his eyes on your genuinely confused face.

“The ground floor has only two halls, kitchen and one other room. We skipped the backyard and just constructed this according to our needs. Big family, you know” he scanned the chairs and continued. “And we’ll add one more chair for you” you responded with only a tight lipped smile. He seemed to be content though.

Before you could converse further, your attention was diverted to the muttering of several boys, entering not so quietly into the room.

“Sit here, near my chair” Kun ushered you towards a chair. “I’ll be back with the food.”

A taller boy, maybe Jungwoo was the first to sit near you and greeted you with an electric eye smile which you tried to return with same energy. Everyone was scattered around the table by now. Some of them were glancing at you but no words were spoken.

You were about to distract yourself with your phone when Kun and another boy came back to the hall with two trolleys occupied with the food and plates. After plates were passed to everyone, delicious ttaekbokki ramyeon and tempura veges were served. the food looked mouth watering and hums of satisfaction confirmed your belief. you had just started eating when someone entered the room.

“Why is she sitting on my seat?

You stopped chewing hearing jaehyun’s voice.

“I told her to! And don’t use this tone again. Not with family at least!”  

You could’ve paid heed to Kun’s sensible words but jaehyun seemed too keen on robbing you of any kindness.

“It’s just been a day and she is already replacing people here!” he remarked before sitting far away from his supposed seat.

“Jaehyun!” Kun’s voice was laced with an unsaid warning.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Despite being hungry earlier, you couldn’t swallow the food properly. You were not there to replace anyone .you were just as displeased to be in his presence as he was. But his displeasure for you was getting unbearable.

You were so engrossed in thoughts that you didn’t notice that everyone was already leaving with their plates. Kun and Johnny had noticed your hurt expressions at jaehyun’s words but there was so little they could do right now.

Under their studying eyes, you hurriedly tried to finish the remaining food.

“You should not move in today” taeil, whom you recognised from the first day, spoke.

“And why is that?” Johnny asked, pointing his chopsticks towards him.

“It’s just not a very fruitful day for moving in. that’s it” taeil replied with a serious expression.

“Now welcome to the 21st century grandpa! We don’t believe in superstitions devised when YOU were born!” Johnny snickered at the older.

“Ok do it! Don’t come to me later on. The legends are there for a reason.”

“I dreamt pigs the day I came across him anyway and I don’t think any spirit can be more evil than him!” as you finished, the four men started laughing hysterically.

“Y/n is such a match for me!”

But taeil quickly disapproved. “No, I don’t need two Johnny here.”

“I gotta go” taeyong announced. “Welcome to family y/n. I know this is not a very pleasant situation but it is what it is. You are welcomed here anytime and this place is yours as much as ours. Take care!” you merely nodded towards him. Were you supposed to show gratitude? You weren’t sure of that yet!

“So everyone I saw earlier lives here!” you asked Kun curiously. You weren’t sure to whom this place belonged and what exactly was this house. Their residential place? But why did they have a basement with metal doors then? It was better to just ask than assume.

But instead of Kun, taeil responded. “This house was designed by ten and doyoung to facilitate us with everything that wasn’t possible in the apartments we used to live earlier. Whilst looking like any posh dwelling in the area, it is not just that. The dining room might have provided you some insight already. My room is downstairs or I might say the only room on this floor in mine. Everyone else is settled on first and second floor. You can do a tour if you want. And if you want to stay here, I would love to displace Johnny outta his room and you can spend the night in mine.” his speech ended with a sincere smile.

“Whoa hyung!” Johnny exclaimed with eyes opened to infinity. “She didn’t ask for a lecture. And don’t waste your breath explaining that you have the best room in the whole world when we are short on time here!”

“Why is that now?”

“I have to drop y/n to her apartment. Whenever she is done with the food of course.” Johnny said pointing towards your plate. Sometime while listening to taeil, you had dropped your chopsticks again but continued again, muttering an apology.

“What’s the hurry? I want to talk to her!” Kun whined at Johnny.

“Then tag along but only if y/n wants!” both of them raised their brows at you, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, of course you can come. Why would I refuse? “You chuckled at their childish tactics.

Once you were done with the food, Kun seized your utensils as you tried to get up with the plate.

“Wait for me. I’ll be back and then we can go” he announced going out of the room.

You sheepishly looked at the both taeil and Johnny who were now busy in their respective phones. Just when you were fishing out your phone from the pocket, it ringed, startling you.

Chelin.

You hurriedly excused yourself to the farther corner of the room ,ready to get a scolding from her.

“Where are you?” you gulped at her cold voice.

“I’m –I had to-

“You moved out right. Your desk is clear. And you lied to me” her voice was laced with frustration. You could imagine that she was on the verge of pulling her hair. “You know what! Don’t talk to me again!” and with that she hung up.

You tried her number twice but she didn’t pick up. You knew she won’t be mad for too long. She was genetically incapable of doing that but still her being angry with you was not settling in.

“y/n!”

you gave up calling her and decided in favour of letting her cool down first. not like you had any other option!

“Are we going?”

“Yup and jaemin is going to join us.” you almost rolled your eyes at his mention. You couldn’t understand his interest in you but at least he was harmless, not like yuta.

As you four reached the large parking space, taeil went inside again saying his goodbyes. Now you were all waiting for jaemin to come outside but the boy was nowhere in sight.

“I’m here!” jaemin chimed but he was not alone. There were two other boys with him which he had tried to introduce earlier.

“I was packing some food . Jungwoo hyung told me that -

“Chit-chat in the car! Let’s go!” Johnny scolded them.

With few adjustments, you were on the road. The position of jisung and chenle appeared quite pitiful. Due to lack of space, they both were practically sitting on each other. Jaemin forced them to converse with you which turned out pretty nice for you.

All the three boys were techies or the backbone of the team, as jaemin exaggeratedly explained to you. And they were younger as well. Talking to them was easier than you thought. And surprisingly they had many budding questions about your studies as well which were happily answered by you.

You were so engrossed in your little exchange that none of you released you were already there. You checked the time and it took about thirty minutes of drive including the traffic to reach there.

“Oh shit!” your face dimmed on realisation. “It’ll take about an hour to reach university from here!”

Kun and Johnny faced each other with shocking faces. Johnny slowly mouthed something to Kun before he chuckled “I think taeyong totally forgot that you are a student. Taeyong tends to do that. He’s very stressed out lately but I think you’ll love this place. I’ll park the car and Kun will take you to the apartment and others will help me with the boxes.” Johnny instructed everyone like a boss.

“Saved it!” Johnny whispered to Kun with a smug smile.

“Oh did you!” Kun shook his head in disbelief and stepped out of the vehicle.

You looked up to see the skyscraper in its whole glory, hand robotically shielding your eyes. The curved reflective glass windows were gleaming, you wished your room would also have that beautiful glass balcony, reflecting the sun.

“you’ll have plenty of time to gawk!” Kun practically dragged you by your elbow, towards the elevator.

“It was Johnny right.” you said quietly as Kun pressed the button to 10th floor.

“Yesss. he chose the place but he really put some effort in this task.” you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Here we are!”

As you exited the lift, three doors met your sight, one facing you, while others opposite to each other. Kun headed for the right now, you following behind.

“I’ll set up the smart locking system in your phone for the keypad. Everything from mail room to amenity access is controlled with this single pin so remember it. 2610 is the code but you can change it whenever you want.” you nodded consuming the information.

The front door to your new shelter was opened and you were left in awe at the first sight. The entry was narrow but you could see a big living room at the end of it. You removed the shoes following Kun.

Your eyes shimmering, moved everywhere as a smile crept up your face.

The hall was big, at least for two people it was! If you could somehow drag the single seater sofa towards the half glassed window, you don’t think anyone would want to move from there. The rustling of the city could be seen from up there. Down there, a small portion of the park attached to the building was also visible. you were practically attached to the window still by now.

Kun noticed. He noticed how how eyes turned lively as you beheld your surroundings. His own lips curved up watching your reaction.

“Do you like it?” Johnny voice quizzed. Your suitcase now placed besides him. Chenle, jisung and jaemin trailed behind him with boxes in their hands.

“Yes, I love it actually!” you voiced your joy, leaving the hall windows.

“I’ll help” you offered but before you could actually do something, they left like the wind.

“Let’s explore” Kun suggested.

To the right of the hallway was the semi-open kitchen as half of it was covered with a wall but the other part was visible from the couches. The kitchen was itself very sophisticated but poor thing you won’t be cooking any five star recipes in there.

The small space between hallway and kitchen led you towards two rooms. Good thing they were hidden from the sight.

“You can choose your room but I’d prefer this one!” as he opened the left door, you knew what he meant. The scenery you beheld outside could also be seen from this room. The sliding glass door lead to a small balcony opening to the same view. The room itself was very decent just like the rest of the place.

There was a desk with a bookshelf on the upper side of wall which made you confused about Kun’s previous statement. “How could Johnny forget that I was a student but still remembered about these things.” you asked pointing towards the study space.

“His involvement was only till the real estate stuff. Everything else is planned by me so I’m ready to accept some gratitude.”

You let out a small giggle, thanking him immediately.

“Unfortunately, there is only one bathroom. 2b2b apartments are harder to find and there was no need for three bedrooms so you’ll have to compromise here!” he explained pursing his lips. You nodded your head at him while opening the door to the bathroom. To say it was beautiful would be an understatement. It was twice the size of your dorm bathroom. from shower enclosure to bath tub and sink, everything was made of ceramic and marble.

“Hey come out! Where are you both?” you heard Johnny’s screaming voice. You and kun both rushed towards the sound.

“Should I keep the boxes in the room?”

“Yeah, thanks, this one!” you pointed to the left room. He smirked at your choice, winking your way.

Finishing the task at hand, you all slouched down on the couches. Even if you didn’t move a limb, you were just exhausted by other activities of the day.

“I’m hungry!” chenle groaned stroking his stomach.

“What are you?? Even a whale has some control you insatiable boy!” jaemin scolded him, making everyone laugh.

“Call me whatever. But can’t I have some from the box. Just a little!” chenle pleaded giving him an eye smile.

“That is for noona. And you aren’t getting anything!”

“What is he talking about?” you inquired after you were mentioned.

“Jeno told me you don’t cook so I got you the leftovers for dinner. The container is in the kitchen. heat them and eat them!” jaemin replied nonchalantly like it was nothing big. But it was meaningful gesture, for you.

So you didn’t hold back this time. “That’s so kind of you, thank you!” you said smiling to him. “And feel free to eat chenle. Go help yourself.”

Chenle grinned like a happy child but was met with a pointing finger of jaemin. “Get a grip!”  And he slumped down further into the cushion, grumpily crossing his arms over his chest.

“By the way y/n.” Kun addressed you, searching out for something in his pockets, that something, you discovered, were the keys.

“People usually don’t need keys for separate rooms when they live together but you are a special case, so you might need these.” you nodded knowingly, taking the jiggling set from him.

“Let’s watch some t.v before going. The first thing that I did was setting this up and there’s a gaming system attached as well.” Johnny announced before leaving his place to locate the remote under the TV system.

Squatting in the middle of the bed, you looked at the deep blue boxes with a twisted face. Unpacking these boxes would certainly be a chore.

Were you any eager to do it? No.

Was it essential? Very.

You pouted and slumped on the silky white sheets, the queen sized bed providing you with the enjoyment of being a starfish, for the first time in forever. It felt nice and cosy. Unknowingly, your lips curved a bit, releasing a sigh of content.

You couldn’t say for how much longer, but the feeling of having a home brought tranquillity to your muddled thoughts. You have always dreamt about buying your own house, having a place you would be enthusiastic to come back to!

But this was not reality. This was just an intermission to the life you were heading towards! A timeout. And it would just end in smoke, with no accurate termination.

You raised your left hand to view the small diamond resting on your finger. It was beautiful, meant to be worn by a real bride, someone whose ring didn’t came with an expiration date.

Shaking your head, you pushed yourself off the comfortable position. You couldn’t spend your day in melancholy whilst that yuta was probably plotting something to make your life miserable and organising yourself would be the first step towards preparation of retaliation. So you got up from the soft bed to look through the boxes. You picked up the box with some of your random stuff and staggered towards the bathroom.

If there was a place you’ll love more than the room, that’d surely be this bathroom. but so was the hallway!

Even after placing everything from your hair products to the sanitary ones, the ceramic cabinet over the sink still looked empty. You decided to buy some things only to fill that up! Though you were swamped with work right now, you couldn’t resist looking at the frameless rectangular mirror. it was dreamy! and you felt it was a nice ego booster for you as well!

One by one, within one and a half hour, you cleared all the boxes and orderly arranged everything into the cupboards and closet. The only thing left was your desk space but it could be delayed.

You flopped on the couch tiredly, wanting nothing more than to sleep. But there was one more thing on the checklist.

Chelin.

You looked at her contact, tapping your foot constantly and when you knew there was no enough courage in you, crossing your legs on the sofa, you dialled her number.

“Hey!” a male voice answered the phone instead.

“Um jay, where is chelin? Can you tell her it’s me!” you said sheepishly, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

“I don’t think she wants to talk right now. And why did you ran away?”

All your anxiousness suddenly left your body at the overstated accusation.

“I didn’t run away jay, who told you that!” and you were trying to be serious here!

“Nobody told me that. I can figure common things out, you know. Your stuff is gone and you didn’t inform chelin whilst doing that. So imma assume-

“My winter clothes are still there, dumbass. Just give the phone to chelin so I can explain.”

“Nope, she’s in bathroom and angry but for you, only you, I’ll try, to make your position better if you buy me lunch tomorrow!” you scrunched your nose, imagining him doing his sly brow lousy thing with a smug look. But the deal looked good. So you just hopped in.

“ok.” and before you could say anything, he cut the phone. Annoying brat!

and it was also favourable that you were easily distracted for as soon as you turned the TV on ,you got lost in another world, forgetting all the worries for a while.

Your irrational fear of sharp microwave beeps was the reason you were eating the bland ttaebbokki right now. Cold food is the best food had already left the chat as you opened the lunch box. You didn’t enjoy the delicacy earlier due to certain someone and now you couldn’t appreciate it because of your own heightened senses. The ramyeon was a saviour, ttaebokki, on the other hand was now in a contest  with the double caramelised candy that could not be chewed even with metal teeth.

You have spent about 4 hours watching t.v and it was already eight. Your desk was yet to be decorated with books and stuff, still your brain cells favoured watching two movies that would’ve made no sense in real life, but like you always say, who cares! And now you were watching some random football match. Just as you were about to scream at the goal, the front door closed with a thud.

You placed the food down on table, craning your neck above the back of the sofa, looking for the intruder.

Yuta. You had totally forgot about your so called roommate!

“Do you think the food would settle down in your gut?” he took long strides to reach you and asked with a quirking brow.

You turned around to focus on the food instead. But with the slight dip in the head of sofa, you could feel his presence hovering over you.

“Why wouldn’t it!” you replied with equal affection. “And I’m avoiding you so it’s better if you keep yourself on silent mode as well.”  You said again with a hint of finality in your unwavering voice.

Whilst you were trying to direct your attention towards the t.v. in an attempt to ignore him, you felt his warm breath fanning against your ear. You nervously swallowed the bite you took earlier, hoping he would just go away instead of being so inquisitive.

“But I’m willing to make peace here and you are being so harsh to me. you should respond when I talk to you” your shoulders tensed at the fake pout that you assumed he was wearing now, just to get under your nerves. His expressions might have been cordial but you got the innuendo in his words perfectly.

You placed the food container on the table again. “If we have to live together get one thing in your head! I’m here because of you! So don’t try to act up like you are the boss of me! And I don’t agree with your idea of peace if it involves the death of my dignity.” you kept your cool but irritation was radiating from your body and you hoped he would get the message and leave you alone.

“Oh wow!” yuta chuckled a bit before walking around to sit beside you. Instinctively, you shifted towards the other end of the couch. “You think you are the only one who-

His eyes followed your movements as you rolled your eyes, blatantly disregarding him in favour of leaving the couch. But he was quick as he pulled you down by your wrist, causing you to yelp in discomfort.

“You think you are the victim and sufferer here!” he leaned closer, his hand still on your wrist, his attitude changing. That’s when you smelled some alcohol on him. “You think you can deal with anything, catching a criminal red handed and living the life of glory as someone who bravely handled a dangerous situation where anyone else would have cowered away. But guess what!” his voice rose at the end and nostrils flaring with every syllable. “You are the most foolish person I’ve ever met. You have not only ruined your life but mine too. Why couldn’t you have walked past that day like any other person? Everything was fool proof from cctv to police, but you had to intrude!”

You bit the inside of your cheek as your breath quickened. He was staring right into your eyes but the intensity in his orbs unabled you to look away. He could sense your building anxiety but he still continued. “And now I am fucking suspended for a month due to your stupidity. Taeyong told me I’ve become a risk to them. Do you know how it damn feels when your own family fucking doubt you? They questioned my abilities all because of you. I’m-I’m unsure of myself only because of you. I can’t go back to my house, my job, my brothers! why can’t you just fucking leave!” yuta’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as he stood up, leaving your wrist with a jerk. His grip wasn’t that tight but it still left a stinging pain.

You watched him while rubbing your wrist as he raked his hand through his hair, apparently controlling himself. his other hand was shuffling for something in his pocket.

A loud gasp echoed in the hall as yuta’s hand moved and he aggressively stabbed a knife into the table. And it was not a normal kitchen knife!

“Just fucking leave!” 

and with that he was gone.

as you heard the bedroom door closing ,you let out a harsh breath, shoulders slumping in relief.

You eyed the weapon that has damaged the classy wooden table. 

Taeyong had assured you that yuta won’t harm in you in any way but his actions were speaking another language!

but for now all you could feel was….fear?

earlier in black neos estate-

“You can’t stay here forever, you know” mark’s words pulled yuta back to reality. As much as he wanted this nightmare to end, he knew there’s wasn’t even a slight chance of odds being in his favour.

“But there is nothing that can’t be delayed!” yuta shot back at him, chugging his beer.

“You can leave tomorrow. Half of the place is empty, you can easily sneak in!”

“You want me to hide in my own house?” he snorted at younger.

“No. I meant-

“Besides yong gave me clear instructions to make peace with that women which includes breathing the same air as hers and I’m going to follow his command like a happy puppy I am!” he let out a chuckle towards the end, making mark gulp in panic. “And I gotta transfer my stuff tomorrow and you’re going with me.”

“Not until 8 in the evening. We are going for a weapon exchange in the afternoon.” mark said taking sip of the drink. Some questions in his head still needed to be answered but he was lacking right words. Yuta was already on edge since the whole fiasco started and mark, in no way wanted to trigger him anymore. “What are you going to do, if I may ask?” he questioned hesitantly.

“Nothing for now. I went to her university and all I have till now is that she is extremely close to her friends. Maybe have a thing for hook-ups, can’t be sure though. In her head, she is too smart and can surmount anything. That day in the basement proved it already. she isn’t fearless, in no way she is but still she manage to fight back with that rising panic, I don’t know how!” he paused to look at mark, biting his lower lip to cover a smile creeping on his face. “With her whole strength, she tries to pretend that she isn’t frightened down to her soles but whenever I’m near her, he-her throat tightens. It-it’s like she forgets the whole process of exhaling.”

Mark’s mouth went dry hearing that.

“Hyung!” he addressed yuta, almost losing his grip at the beer. He was in no way being intimidating but mark was feeling apologetic for him.

“What now?”

“How closely have to observe her? You sound like a stalker hyung!”

“Don’t call me that.” he slapped mark’s back lightly. Had he applied a little of his strength, he would have been lying on the ground floor right now!  “Maybe I read her file more than a couple of times to just create some familiarity but she’s, hmm, how to explain it! Maybe authentic! But I did nothing creepy though and even if I did, those marriage papers cuts out everything” he chuckled again and it was now concerning mark. he was not drunk but was still laughing too much for it to be normal.

“I’ll suggest just leave it be! Haven’t you thought that she was just at wrong place at wrong time?”

“No!! the problem is that she still somewhere in her head thinks that she was at wrong place at right time! I would’ve had no problem if taeyong had just let her go but no !! he has to go and make my life miserable.” his soothing voice rose a few octaves. He was frustrated and had no other way of letting that go.

Mark watched him, looking into the sky, like he was finding some solutions. He couldn’t turn around the time nor he could do anything for yuta.

He tried to focus on the sky instead. It was so quiet, but what that silence engulfed in it was a mystery for now.

the stars looked beautiful, almost poetic, for the time being.

************************

HOPE YOU ALL ARE ENJOYING IT! MY WRITING IS NOT THE BEST BUT I’M TRYING TO IMPROVE! THANK YOU FOR READING.

[delaware-lemme-smash]

HCs or scenario: All Might giving Midoriya the sex talk because he’s reached the age where he wants to go all the way with his gf and Toshinori is the only father figure he has. Love you!

This is ridiculous. I hope you enjoy~

Toshinori stared at his huge, skinny hands, clasped together between his knees. In this form his knuckles popped out against his skin like knotted tree roots.

How did I end up here?

As a Hero and a teacher he had a duty of care to his students. Most of all to young Midoriya, to whom he had passed both his Quirk and the torch of Symbol of Peace. But this?

'Um...All Might?'

Toshinori cleared his throat, swinging his great leonine head to look at Midoriya. Izuku looked like he was going to faint at any moment, his hands gripping his knees. Toshinori focused on the new bandage wrapping around Midoriya's knee, for something to ground himself with.

'How did that happen, my boy?'

Izuku looked down, as if just remembering it was there. 'Oh. Nothing, it's just where that porcupine villain got me with one his spines last week.' Izuku's signature red trainers dragged over the concrete as he shifted to face his mentor. 'You don't have to tell me this. It's just that...'

That Midoriya's own father was more absent than the boy's sense of self-preservation, and he had no-one else to give him this advice. Asking Aizawa wasn't an option. Oh, the man would try his best, but it would be like pulling teeth and Aizawa would probably quit teaching after to go live in a cave. No, it fell to All Might.

'You've had your um...ed classes, right?' he asked, looking anxiously at the boy.If he had to explain all the mechanics of the thing, he was going to die right here on the spot. What All For One had failed to do twice would happen through sheer mortification on a park bench.

Izuku's face was as red as a tomato, the similarity amplified by his shock of dark green hair. He nodded, visibly beginning to sweat. Toshinori blew out a huge sigh of relief.

'I-' He wrung his hands together. Courage, man! 'I don't know if I'm the best person for this, but I'm going to do it anyway. So...when a man and a woman love each other very much. Or a man and a man, or a woman and a woman. Um...or people who are neither-'

Izuku fought down a smile.

'They uh...' Toshinori wished he'd thought to write down what he wanted to say, but Midoriya had blindsided him with the request at the end of their training session. 'They have sex.'

Midoriya nodded. 'Yeah.'

'It's perfectly natural,' Toshinori said, nodding his head too. Like a pair of bobble head dashboard ornaments, they were. 'But you've gotta be sensible about it.'

Okay, this was good! No judgement, giving fatherly advice. Making the boy feel at ease.'So you should uh...use protection. And make sure the other person wants it, too. And don't do it while you're drunk. That's just a bad idea all around. Believe me-'

Midoriya made a choking noise, and Toshinori realised it was probably best not to use any anecdotes in this discussion with his lifelong number one superfan. Right.

'As long as you are ready, and they are ready, and you have all the...stuff you need, it should be fine. It might be awkward or clumsy or-'

He'd been about to say "over in three seconds", but he figured Midoriya didn't need that kind of performance anxiety.

Midoriya ducked his head, scruffing up the back of his ever-unruly hair with one scarred hand. He looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or have a mental breakdown.

'I think there might be a misunderstanding here,' he said.

Toshinori felt a bolt of cold shoot down his spine. 'Ah, you said you were ready to... So I thought...'

Midoriya snorted, shoulders shaking. 'I am, but I wasn't actually asking you for The Talk.'

All Might's jaw hung open. Midoriya put a hand on his shoulder.

'Not that I don't appreciate it! I do look up to you like, well, kind of like a father. But...I just wanted to ask if I needed to worry about One For All during, y'know.'

Toshinori lowered his face into his hands, not sure whether to be relieved or absolutely mortified.

'Young Midoriya...'

'Yes?'

'You don't have to worry about One For All.'

'Oh! That's good to hear. Thanks!'

'Young Midoriya.'

'Uh...yeah?'

'We will never speak of this again.'

'...Agreed.'

[notfunnydean]

SPN Advent Calendar Day: 13

Prompt: White Elephant Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel Warnings: none Word Count: 825  Summary: Castiel never heard of the white elephant exchange before but he makes Dean the best gift ever. Link (if posted on AO3): https://archiveofourown.org/works/27823264/chapters/68735499

“White Elephant exchange?” Castiel asks again and he tilts his head, Dean has to smile at that, if he wants or not. Castiel is often too adorable. Not that Dean hates that at all. No, he kinda likes it.

“Yeah, we’ll host it tomorrow. You, Sammy, Eileen, Jack and me. It will be fun.” Dean says and hopes Castiel agrees. He knows it will be a lot of fun, even though Dean had only done it maybe twice in school.

But even back he had got awesome junk.

“But where will I get a white elephant this late?” Castiel asks and for a moment Dean is speechless. Of course Castiel isn’t even joking.

“Cas… no. Just no. We’re not really exchanging white elephants.” Dean says and now he really has to laugh. Just like the thing with the guinea pig.

“But you said…” 

“I know what I said. Okay lemme tell you the rules real quick and then I really have to get the groceries.” Dean says and Castiel actually sits down at the table, seeming very eager.

“Please tell me.” Castiel says.

“Okay it’s rather easy. We all put our names in a hat. You pick one paper and look who you got as your giftee. Then you get them something and wrap it. But there’s something special in this, cause you gotta give them something old or broken or stuff.” Dean explains and Castiel tilts his head again.

It will never go old.

“You want me to give someone garbage?” Castiel asks and Dean snorts again, because sounds so offended. 

“It’s a silly game, Cas. Honestly. I already know that someone will get my old socks.” Dean laughs, because his paper had said Sam. And he loves to tease his brother in any way. He likes his pizza socks but only to see Sam’s face.

“Okay Dean. If you do enjoy it, I’m sure I will be too.” Castiel agrees and he looks deep into Dean’s eyes again. Dean stares back and as always he luckily remembers to keep his hands to himself.

He leaves the kitchen before something happens.

*

“I’m so excited.” Dean says when he sees the package with his name on. He’s the last one, on purpose, because he wanted to watch the others first.

So far Sam has gotten his socks (washed of course man!) Eileen has gotten some flowers who would probably be dead by the morning, Castiel got a broken angel ornament (that he still strokes so softly) and Jack has now an old stuffie. 

“Open it.” Sam says and Dean takes it. The package is neatly wrapped in red paper and there's even a golden bow on it. 

“Oh this looks good already.” Dean rubs his hands and then carefully opens it. He never got a lot of presents in his life, so he wants to really enjoy this.

“How does it feel?” Jack asks and Dean blinks.

“Actually pretty soft. Probably clothes.” Dean says and he looks at everyone to see if someone will react to that. He wants to know who had drawn his name.

“Don’t do it so slow.” Eileen says and she sounds excited too.

Dean opens it and gasps quietly. Inside is a trench coat, a way too familiar one. Dean looks towards Castiel who smiles.

“Cas… that is way too much.” Dean stutters out because holy shit. What is happening. Contrary to his words, Dean takes the trench coat and strokes over it. He had always liked that feeling.

“You told me it could be something old or broken. I have a new one by now. This… this is the one you gave me back when I’ve been… the worst kind of god.” Castiel says and Dean’s breath hitches.

He remembers the moment he had seen Emmanuel / Castiel with his wife and then how Castiel had switched places with Sam at the hospital.

He remembers how much he had missed Castiel, how hurt he had been at the betrayal.

“Cas…”  Dean whispers and he feels himself tearing up.

“What did I do wrong?” Castiel asks and he comes closer to sit down right next to Dean. Everyone is quiet and Dean doesn’t answer either. He gets up with shaky legs and puts the trench coat on.

It’s dirty and ripped open at a few places. 

Dean sits down again, cuddles a bit into the trench coat and smiles. 

“Nothing.” Dean answers easily and then he kisses Castiel. For a moment Castiel seems way too stunned, but then he kisses back and it feels so good. Dean isn’t sure why he never tried that before.

“Wow.” Castiel mumbles when they break the kiss. Dean blushes.

“Finally!” Eileen says and Dean sees how she gives Jack a high-five. Dean shakes his head, but he can’t stop smiling.

“You know Cas, back then when you were gone, Dean wore that trench coat all the damn time.” Sam says and Dean slaps him.

“Sammy!”

[goldenraeofsun]

would you have me, would you want me?

Part I Part II

Part III

Dean jerks back. 

“I - yeah, I know we were friends,” he stammers.

“You were my only friend, Dean,” Castiel continues. “Do you know what it was like to see you, talk to you, every day for months, and then have it all taken away?”

Dean pales. He doesn’t say a word.

“Of course you don’t,” Castiel says bitterly. He glances around, but the hallway outside the gym is practically empty. 

Dean shifts his weight to his other food, more uncomfortable than Castiel has ever seen him.

“Look, I’m glad you are trying to make up for past mistakes,” Castiel says plainly. “That is an admirable thing. But I don’t know what you want from me now.”

Dean’s mouth opens, closes, and opens again. He shakes his head. “I - just to say sorry, I guess.”

“Apology accepted,” Castiel says stiffly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

This time Dean lets him go. 

* * *

Dean jerks back.

Cas’s hand shoots out, holding him in place. “Wait.”

Dean’s lips taste like punch drunk courage. His green eyes are wide as he freezes, close enough for his faint breaths to ghost over Cas’s face.

“Don’t go,” Cas says as his fingers tighten. “We can do it again, if you want.”

“If I…?” Dean drifts off, his mouth going slack.

Cas nods. “I’d like to.”

“Awesome.” Dean’s face breaks out into a wide smile. He scans the area, wincing as a loud cheer comes from party central behind them. “Want to go somewhere more private?” He gets to his feet and holds out his hand to Cas.

“Where?” Cas asks as he accepts the help up. 

Dean steps over the flimsy barrier to the next set of  stairs. “Tessa’s brother is away at college,” Dean says as Cas hesitates. “His room should be free.”

Cas falters. It was one thing to share a quick kiss on the stairs. But being alone with Dean, in a strange room, in a strange house? He isn’t so sure he’s ready.

But this is probably his only chance. In a month from now, they will go their separate ways. Cas can promise to visit until he is blue in the face, but none of Dean’s past history tells Cas he can wait around or would even want to. 

Not that Cas would ever ask Dean to do that. Cas is only two drinks in, hardly enough to make him forget all the rumors he heard about what Dean got up to at these parties. ‘Never caught with the same chick twice,’ as Pam said loudly in homeroom a few months ago.

“I want you,” Cas says bluntly.

Dean licks his lips. “Alright then.” He gestures up the stairs. “Lead the way.”

* * *

Castiel pauses outside the threshold. 

He probably shouldn’t have taken a detour to the library, but he couldn’t resist. Why would he go to his reunion and miss the one place he felt most at home? He certainly harbors no good memories of the gym .

He pushes against the door.

But it doesn’t budge. Castiel tries again.

Why, for god’s sake, would they lock up the library?

Castiel’s old teenage fantasy rears its ugly head. Dean, ducking beneath the study table. Slowly unzipping Cas’s pants, maybe palming him once or twice, before pulling out Cas’s cock and sucking like his life depends on it. Cas, white-knuckling the table, jaws clenched shut not to let a single sound escape.

Oh, that’s probably why.

Castiel lets go of the handle in disgust. What a disappointing night all around. Not that he should have had high expectations. He’d just thought -

Castiel shakes his head and turns away.

Only to bump into Dean.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Dean says with a forced grin. He jerks his head towards the library. “Hoping for a goodbye tour?”

Castiel throws the door a dirty look. “It’s locked.”

“Then you’re lucky you know a guy who can pick a lock.”

“Who?”

Dean snorts as he roots around in his pocket. “Me.” He pulls out two paper clips with a flourish and catches a glimpse of Castiel’s face. “You can’t tell me you’re surprised.”

Castiel stares at him. “What are you doing here?”

Dean shrugs before crouching in front of the library doors. “Was hoping to find you, actually.”

“Why?”

Dean’s head tilts up to sneak a look at Castiel before he gets back to the task at hand. “I figured I owed you. For being such a dick way back when.”

Castiel sighs. It’s been such a long, frustrating night, and he’s barely been at the reunion more than forty-five minutes. “It’s fine, Dean.”

“No, it’s not,” Dean says as he gives his makeshift tools an experimental wiggle. “I want to make it up to you.”

“By breaking and entering?”

“Pretty on-brand for me, if you think about it.”

Castiel leans against the wall next to the door to watch Dean work. “I suppose so.”

Dean huffs a short, breathy laugh. “Some things don’t change, I guess.”

Castiel shakes his head. They shouldn’t go down that road again. He asks, instead, “How is Sam doing?”

Dean’s hands twitch, and he swears under his breath. “You remember him?”

“We did share a number of car rides together.”

Dean’s brow furrows as he maneuvers one wire up and down in minute motions. “He’s at Stanford Law. Wrapping up his last year.”

“Congratulations,” Castiel says. Sam had always struck him as a bright kid, always interested in learning, even if all they spoke about was sentence structure.

“It was all him,” Dean grunts.

“We both know that’s not true,” Castiel points out.

Dean doesn’t respond.

* * *

Cas pauses outside the threshold. 

The closed bedroom door looks horribly imposing.

“You okay?” Dean asks as he pushes it open. 

“Yes,” Cas says. He darts inside before his nerves fail him.

“Alright,” Dean says as he shuts the door behind them. “Where were we?” He approaches Cas slowly, his eyes hungry.

Cas lets himself get backed against the bed in the center of the room, Dean’s body impossibly warm against his. Dean’s hands reach up to cradle his face like it is a breakable Christmas ornament. His fingers swipe over Cas’s cheekbones as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

Impatient, Cas surges forward to seal their mouths together in a complicated mess of teeth and tongue. Dean’s lips part with a noise of surprise, and Cas wastes no chance to shove his tongue inside Dean’s mouth. He kind of wiggles it around - none of the pornography he’s watched before focused on kissing, so he does his best approximation.

But Dean is pulling away after only a few seconds. “Hey, hold on.”

Cas draws up short. “What?”

“That was - look, was that your first kiss back there? On the stairs?” Dean jerks his head back the way they came.

Mortified, Cas nods. He doesn’t have the voice to say more.

Dean sits down on the bed. “Then you gotta slow down.” 

“You’re telling me to slow down?” Cas asks as he stares down at Dean, incredulous.

“Happens more often than you’d think,” Dean mutters. “Come on, you can’t say you liked that last one.”

“I - ” If the floor could open up and swallow him whole, Cas would pitch himself in head-first.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Dean says, pulling Cas closer so he can bracket his thighs with his legs. He gives him a reassuring squeeze with his knees. “’Bout time I got to teach you something, smarty pants.”

Cas looks away. “I suppose,” he says under his breath.

“Hey,” Dean says , drawing Cas’s reluctant gaze back to his face. “I want this too, okay?”

Cas’s brow furrows. “Even though,” he breaks off, unsure. “Still?”

Dean licked his lips. “You have no idea.”

* * *

“Jesus Christ,” Dean groans.

The library door gives way with a familiar click. “That took long enough,” he says. 

Castiel pushes himself off the wall. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean says with a small smile as he gestures for Castiel to go first.

Castiel sucks in a deep breath as the familiar smell of old books and something unique to the Edlund High library hits his nose. He steps forward, his eyes already peeled for the old favorites he could probably pick out blindfolded. He squints in the darkness as his fingers glide over the worn shelves, over the mysteries, the thrillers, the adventure novels. They gave him everything his normal high school life couldn’t.

“Ha!”

Cas jumps at the sound of Dean’s voice.

“What?” Cas asks as he finds him by the study tables. He stubbornly ignores the funny jolt to his stomach at the sight of Dean bending over the worn tabletops.

“They’re still there,” Dean says, pointing to the D.W and S.W etched into the wood, and, slightly below them, C.N.

“Of course they’re still there,” Castiel says, even as his fingers reach out to trace the decade-old etchings. “This is a public school. They hardly have the budget to replace furniture due to a little disfacement.”

Dean throws him a look. “You say things like that, and it makes me think you never got rid of that stick up your ass.”

“Excuse me?” Castiel tamps down on the flare of temper at the accusation. He won’t rise to Dean’s bait. “You work here. You probably know their yearly budget much better than I do.”

Dean crosses his arms across his chest. “Look, I know Carver’s better off than we are. But you don’t have to be all high and mighty about it.”

“I... wasn’t?” Castiel says, puzzled. “It’s a simple fact. I have been in education for a number of years. I have worked in schools like this before.” He taps the C. “I was let go from my last position for keeping a spare loaf of bread in my desk and a jar of peanut butter for students who couldn’t afford lunch.”

“They fired you for that?” Dean asks, his rigid posture loosening.

“I think it was the lying, more than anything else,” Castiel says as he looks up. “I told them I was saving it for myself, but then they looked at my students’ lunch balances, and put two and two together.” He smiles wryly. “I was actually happy to leave - not my students, of course, but the administration was a nightmare.”

“Sounds like,” Dean says, disgusted. He gestures around the library. “I don’t know if you heard, but Principal Singer retired a few years ago. Principal Mills is pretty great, though,” Dean says as he perches on the study table, staring around. “There’s no way she’d fire any of us for something like that.”

“Yes, well,” Castiel swallows. “I needed a change in scenery after that, so-”

“So you decided to shack it up with Yacht Club Jr.?”

Castiel sighs. “It’s not a perfect fit,” he says eventually. “But I needed a job, and my mother was able to pull some strings in that school district since she moved there a few years ago.”

“Your mom?” Dean asks, eyebrows raised.

Castiel nods. “We still don’t see eye-to-eye about most things,” he says, looking away, “But she still wants me to succeed. Or, at the very least, be able to pay rent and feed myself.”

“And your dad?” Dean asks tentatively.

“I haven’t heard from him in ten years,” Castiel says heavily. He pulls out one of the chairs and sits down. “He sent me a card for my birthday my first year of college, and then nothing.”

“What a fucking dick.”

Castiel ignores the old pang of hurt and reflexive urge to defend his father. Instead, he asks, “And yours?”

“Died in a car accident about eight years ago,” Dean says shortly.

Castiel’s heart twinges. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Dean waves off his apology. “I’ve come to terms with it,” he says in a way that conveys the exact opposite.

“I know he was a big presence in your life.”

“When he was there,” Dean adds bitterly.

“And when he wasn’t,” Castiel says sharply. “He was a big influence on you, even when he wasn’t physically present - unlike my father.”

“Yeah, well, go Team Daddy Issues,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. 

* * *

“Jesus Christ,” Dean groans.

Cas freezes.

“No, no,” Dean hisses beneath him, “Keep going.”

Biting his lip, Cas bucks his hips again, grinding their clothed cocks together.

“You’re killing me here,” Dean pants as his fingers dig into the meat of Cas’s ass. “Please tell me I can take your pants off now. I wanna feel you.”

“I - yes, of course,” Cas stutters as he lifts off Dean and tries to unbutton his jeans.

“Here,” Dean says, rolling over to a sitting position. He reaches for Cas, one hand settling possessively on his side, the pad of his thumb stroking a burning trail right under the jut of his hip. Cas has never been sensitive there before. He shivers.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Dean murmurs, his eyes rising briefly to catch Cas’s heated face before unzipping his pants and pushing them down his legs. “C’mere.”

“But you,” Cas protests weakly, gesturing to Dean’s own state of dress.

Dean wiggles out of his pants, muttering, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Um,” Cas hesitates as Dean kicks his jeans to the floor. “What now?”

“Now, if you’ll let me,” Dean licks his lips, “I’m going to put my mouth on you and suck you off until you come.”

Cas swallows instinctually, a little lightheaded. Maybe the alcohol is finally catching up to him; maybe there is no blood left for his brain after rushing south to his cock. “I’d like that,” he says hoarsely once he gathers enough sense to form a full sentence.

“I had a hunch you might,” Dean says wryly. “Here, lay down. I’ll get on top of you.”

Cas scrambles onto the bed, his heart hammering in his chest as Dean peels down his briefs. He fists the sheets, fighting the urge to turn over and hide himself from Dean’s gaze. He feels impossibly naked, even though his shirt is still on.

“Like I said, gorgeous,” Dean says, and some of Cas’s anxieties calm. Dean bends down, crouching over Cas’s bare legs. “Let me know if I do something you don’t like,” he says, meeting Cas’s gaze squarely. 

“Have you done this before?” Cas asks.

Dean nods as he traces a feather-light finger down Cas’s inner thigh. “A couple of times.”

Cas frowns before he can rein his jealousy in.

“I’ve never got a bad review before,” Dean says slyly, misreading Cas’s reaction completely. He trails his finger back up towards Cas’s groin on the other leg.

Cas’s cock twitches involuntarily in response.

“Eager, angel?” Dean asks, his eyes dancing.

Cas inhales a shuddering breath. “You have no idea.”

Dean grins. “Just you wait.”

“I am waiting, Dean,” Cas says, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. The teasing, the smiles, that look in Dean’s eye, none of Cas’s fantasies prepared him for the real thing.

Dean bends down and licks a long, slow stripe up Cas’s cock.

“Dean!”

Chuckling to himself, Dean takes Cas in hand and gives him a few experimental pumps. “You gotta be quiet,” he says in a low voice. “We’re not supposed to be here, remember?”

Cas lets out a little whimper, straining with everything he had not to come.

“That’s it,” Dean says gently as he leans in closer. “I got you, Cas.”

Onto Part IV