#or when he gets a little nervous a little stutter at the checkout line

[shewhoeatssand]

everyone Loves Kaneki!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[dogsosoy]

i am thinking about stalking aki. no devils au also (gn)reader is an obsessive freakkk and loser ; things get a little physically violent ^__^

as per usual, you were following the local grocery store clerk home after his shift.

he was a pretty unassuming guy, despite his height, but something about him was different from all the other NPCs you had to encounter in your shitty city.

a few weeks ago, for the first time in your life, someone wasn’t outright disgusted with your presence. on top of that, that person was downright gorgeous too. exactly your type. a lot like the guys you went for in your dating sims: tall, long hair, and an unbothered attitude. aki had an air about him that screamed “i don’t really care,” which made you weak in the knees. you were shaking when you approached his checkout line.

you expected him to be like everyone else. throw you a hardly-concealed glare and make your interaction as swift as possible. you’ve never been that great with social interaction. or social cues. but somehow, in your delusional mind, you believed that you were quite charming the day you met aki.

he had initially caught you off guard. aki recognized the game on your shirt, and commented on it as he was checking out (and trying hard not to judge) your groceries (seriously, when was the last time you ate a meal that wasn’t full of MSG?). immediately getting even more flustered and nervous than you already were, you told him a fun fact about the game—that only you found fun—and flashed him an awkward, stressed out smile. more fearful looking than anything. more animalistic than human.

but he smiled back, so clearly that meant you did a good job, right? you surely impressed him with your knowledge and the submissive air about you! he must’ve thought you were charming in a “kicked dog” sort of way.

aki totally wasn’t thinking ‘will this quivering little freak get out of my line already?’ eyeing your shaky hands and figure. you were most definitely overstaying your welcome in the check-out area to stutter at this poor clerk. at least he’s good at staying composed. most of the time.

overall, he was disgusted by you. you looked like you got hit by a bus two weeks ago and hadn’t showered since. your clothes were dirty and way too big, like a child trying on something from their parent’s closet. you had a minecraft wallet that would’ve been a cute little trait if you weren’t so fucking off-putting. your hair was in your eyes. probably to hide your face, he thought. you don’t seem to like being perceived.

aki had a lot of thoughts about you in that moment—some of them more intrusive than others. he thought about scowling at you, yelling at you to move along, maybe shoving your shitty groceries into your hands so you’d get the idea that he really didn’t like your vibe. or face. or anything about you. then, aki thought about strangling you. you just had a face for it. you looked easy to beat up and aki kind of liked that. it crossed his mind that maybe he could kick the shit out of you after his shift. get some anger out. hell, he could’ve taken five and done it right then.

you know, normal minimum wage job thoughts.

but of course, he didn’t do any of that. didn’t even really entertain the thought (although he really would’ve liked to). at his core, aki isn’t a bad person. he’s not the best, don’t get him wrong, but he wouldn’t harm a random person he doesn’t know. even if that person was giving him a million reasons to, just by existing. even if they look like they would make such a good punching bag. or stress ball. or chew toy?

aki doesn’t necessarily enjoy hurting people. he’ll admit, he does find some sort of sick satisfaction in it, but it’s not something he actively seeks out. or even something that regularly crosses his mind. aki is reliable and intelligent. that’s what anyone you ask would say about him. sure, maybe he’s a hardass most of the time, but he really does seem to have a thing for helping others.

he looked at you, really looked at you, his eyes filled with pity as you were turning to walk out of the store. he imagined what it would be like to have everyone you come across have these sorts of thoughts about you. how could you live your life normally when everything about you invokes violent and anger in the people around you?

it was pathetic. he thought you were pathetic.

maybe he could help you.

your eyes caught his only for a moment as you cautiously glanced back at him, trying to sneak in one more glimpse at this angel before you went home, not to return for weeks. then you saw it. you saw that look. something in his eyes, but it wasn’t anger or annoyance or disgust. your face heated up, and your eyes widened with how flustered you felt. your palms suddenly felt sweaty, and it was too hot. for once, someone looked at you and felt something more for you, and it felt like a fire was lit inside your chest.

this man… (squints to read name tag) aki… he was different.

and aki knew from that split second that you were definitely a total hopeless case and complete freak.

your obsession with him snowballed from there.

you followed behind him after every shift, making sure to stay hidden from the light and as far away as possible. you just wanted to make sure the love of your life got home safe! plus, it wasn’t hard to keep an eye on him. maybe keeping up with him was a little difficult due to the height difference, but good thing you’re amazing at masking your presence! thank you, fear of being perceived.

even from this distance, your heart was in your throat. you could barely make out the way his shoulders moved as he walked, or how he lazily puffed on a cigarette (mevius brand, your brain supplied). it was still enough to get you panting like a freaky little creep. your whole body was on fire. the physical reaction you had to aki was apparent, and it had only gotten worse by the day. during your first interaction, you were a complete mess. now? you’d be lucky to get a single word out if he was any closer than twenty feet, and your legs would surely give out from the anxiety. it would be like meeting god.

aki had decided earlier, during his shift, that he had had enough of this game of cat and mouse.

of course he could feel the eyes on his back during his walk to his apartment. although you think you’re quite slick and sneaky, aki has known since the first day you followed him home. you may be quiet, but your hiding skills are a bit rusty. on top of that, aki trained in the police force. he knows when someone is tailing him. he had to hand it to you though, it took him longer than normal to notice you.

every day you got a bit closer—he had picked up on that by the fifth night. he picked up on you breaking into his apartment by the second week, which irked him. not because he necessarily cared about you stealing his stuff—he didn’t have much of value anyway—he just didn’t want your dirty hands touching everything. he started cleaning more after that.

then slowly he started… leaving things out for you. like someone leaving milk out for a stray cat. a half eaten bar of chocolate on his kitchen counter, an old shirt on his bed. things he thought you’d think he wouldn’t miss. he left some healthier food out too, with a few bites taken out of it, so you’d think he was done eating and take it for yourself.

he wondered if it felt like sharing a meal to you, too.

he had caught a glimpse of you in a shop window as he turned the corner onto his street. you were wearing his shirt. he never saw you without one of his shirts on, not since you started stealing them.

instead of continuing all the way to his apartment, aki stopped short and took a quick right to duck into a nearby alleyway.

your heart sped up. what was he doing? was he meeting with someone else? going to someone else’s place? maybe just taking a leak? despite your worryingly amazing stalking skills, you lacked a lot of… basic intellect. street smarts.

common sense.

you approached the alley cautiously, peering in. no sign of aki. your heart sunk, had you lost him? your foot steps rang out in quiet thuds on the concrete. your thoughts were running a mile a minute.

aki thinks you should be more aware of your surroundings. it becomes another bullet on his mental list of things you need to work on. this list is uncomfortably long.

you pass by an unassuming dumpster, not looking at or even near it. it didn’t cross your mind that the object of your deepest desire could be crouched beside it. why would he be? why would he be staring at you? why would he be getting ready to pounce on you, like a predator on prey?

the moment you had just barely cleared the threshold into his vision, aki pounced.

your back hit the concrete wall before you could even grasp what could be happening. the smell of cigarette smoke flooded your sinuses. someone’s forearm was pressed to your neck—their hand carefully balancing a mevius cigarette between two fingers—affectively holding your weaker body in place and somewhat choking you. your voice cried out in a pathetic yelp, which caused another large hand to be placed rather roughly over your mouth. he didn’t want you to make any unnecessary noise. or, god forbid, any dumb comments.

his figure was even more imposing at this distance—or lack there of. fuck, is he going to kill you? beat the shit out of you? why is that thought kinda hot? your heart was beating so fast you felt like you were going to have a heart attack. aki, ever composed, casually leaned over your trembling body, looking deep into your scared eyes with his intense gaze. he was so calm, but he was also scary. imposing. like a parent looking down at a child who has misbehaved. your knees felt weak.

you have misbehaved.

his face was inches from yours as he spoke softly, condescendingly, “i would say you’re dumber than you look but,” his eyes raked over your figure slowly, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. he removed his forearm from your neck and took a drag and blew the smoke into your face as he continued, “you’re not.”

quick note: having a hand over your mouth, somewhat covering your nose, smoke blown into your face, and having previously been choked by a forearm to the neck does NOT pair amazingly with what was likely an incoming panic attack. or maybe it was a meltdown. aki didn’t think you could tremble this much. widen your eyes this much. make him feel so in control this much. he would’ve rather thrown out his brand new pack of meviuses than admit that you have such a way of making him feel. he continued rolling his cigarette between his fingers, staring at your face, thinking. then he backed off a little. looked down his nose at you.

his gaze was filled with disgust… and an impossible amount of want. want for you. to own you. control you. maybe he just wanted to have some sort of control over anything in his life. unfortunately, you didn’t have a whole lot of time to react to this sudden realization about aki, as you cried out, muffled by his palm. the bastard had put his cigarette out on your neck.

“don’t worry,” he spoke softly, in an ever condescending tone, “you’ll probably still be able to walk when i’m done.”

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Supply Run

Dean Winchester x Reader; Sam Winchester x Reader (platonic)

Summary: Dean’s girlfriend is at home sick with the flu and he promised to make a run for a few simple things. Her biggest request - go to the actual grocery store and not that gas station up the road.

A/N: A simple little story to complete my bingo card for @spngenrebingo. A big thank you to @kazosa for helping me out with this one!!

Square Filled: Supply Run

Warnings: None

WC: 2.5K

Dean stood outside of the electronic doors and looked up at the giant neon sign. He grumbled at the prospect of entering the dreaded store with its giant aisles and fluorescent overhead lights. Why he couldn’t just grab the necessities from the gas station near home was beyond him. Not like he never had to do a supply run for someone sick before. Plenty of times he had to do this for Sammy when they were kids. Why she insisted on making him go to this horror show just for some simple things baffled him. But yet, the image of the girl he loved, back in the bunker laid up alone and wallowing in germs gave him the final push he needed to take a step forward, triggering the doors to open.

He grabbed a basket and instantly felt lost and slightly intimidated. Looking around he took the first few hesitant steps towards the endless aisles in front of him. She gave him a list, but he thought it looked pretty sparse of any of the good stuff he used to get Sam. Where were the cans of Chicken & Stars soup… the marshmallow fluff… the boxed mac and cheese? All she asked him to get was oranges, Nyquil and Gatorade. 

“Not even a box of Saltines?!” he mumbled incredulously, looking at the paper again and shaking his head.

He started by the produce and found the oranges. Piled high on a display, he absently grabbed the first two his hand touched. A quick avalanche of citrus began rolling down the sides. In a panic, he dropped the basket and caught most before they crashed to the floor. Looking around to see how much attention he gained, he sighed when he realized no one saw. Carefully, Dean placed the oranges back and silently prayed they would stay put. 

Snatching his basket and quickly walking away, Dean bypassed most of the home goods aisles until he found himself boxed in by a display of everything you would need to make smores at home. Dean’s eyes lit up and he immediately grabbed one of each, tossing them into the basket, and moving along down towards the cereal. A box of Lucky Charms caught his eye, and he added it to his basket before nodding in satisfaction.

“This is what I’m talking about,” he muttered with a satisfied grin and continued through the aisles, feeling better about his trip to the big box store. 

Rounding the corner, his attention was in looking up at the sign for the next aisle. He was hoping the cans of soup would be there somewhere when suddenly the hard bump of a shopping cart rammed straight into his side. 

“Excuse you, son!” an older, gray-haired woman admonished as Dean’s box of Lucky Charms went tumbling out of the basket thanks to the collision.

“S-Sorry--” he stuttered, bending down to pick up the box and wrinkled his nose at the narrowed eye expression she was giving him. 

She looked into his basket and shook her head. “This generation… can’t even shop for a proper meal,” she mumbled as she moved along her way. 

“I hate these places,” he groaned. “Why couldn’t I just go to the Gas n Sip. Coulda got all this there…”

Two aisles later, Dean found the cans of condensed Chicken & Stars soup that was a sure-fire way to get her to feel better. Any time Sam had been sick, Dean would get all the essentials, soup included, making Sammy better in no time. If Dean was feeling fancy, he would crumble the saltines on top and Sam would think it was the best thing in the world. Smiling at the memory, he tossed a few into the basket then went on to find the sports drinks she asked for. 

The last item on her very shortlist was the Nyquil. She said it would help her sleep off whatever germs were making her feel like death. He had no doubt that it would, but she would also need sustenance; hence the variety of heavily processed foods he was lugging around in the basket. Half paying attention to where he was wandering, Dean found himself in unfamiliar territory. Thinking he was somewhere near the meds, he began to examine some of the boxes on the shelves. 

As he scanned the boxes and tubes in front of him and read the words like ‘Vagisil’ and ‘Summer’s Eve’ his head snapped up and he took a step back. Realizing he was in the feminine hygiene aisle, he quickly turned on his heel and stepped lively towards where he took a wrong turn. 

“Wrooong aisle,” he said with a nervous laugh just as he nearly ran into the same old lady he did before. 

“You lost, son?” she asked, relishing in the uncomfortable expression he wore. 

“I… um… Nyquil?” he stammered.

“One more aisle over,” she replied with an exasperated huff. “Guess this generation can’t read, either.”

Dean held back all the comments that swirled through his mind and continued on to the correct aisle, biting his tongue as he went. Finding the requested item, Dean took a moment to try and discern which variety she would want. Finally plucking the bottle of neon green liquid from the shelves, he then noticed a variety of other things he thought she may need but didn’t ask for. Stuffing the basket full, he felt a raw sense of satisfaction as he examined all the things that were nearly overflowing from it and headed towards the front of the store.

Once Dean finally made it to the checkout. He lined up all of his goodies on the belt and watched as the clerk—Keith, who’s name tag was overshadowed by a giant pin that read, ‘Be Patient with Me! I’m New!’—studied each item slowly, looking for the bar code to rake across the scanner. Dean’s impatience grew with each painstakingly snail-like pass of an item over the register, the resounding beeeep that followed chipping away at the last of his patience. 

By the time the pimply-faced teenage clerk picked up the box of tissues, then Lucky Charms, Dean heard him snicker under his breath.

“Sick kid at home?” he asked. “My mom used ta buy this shit for me when I was sick.”

Dean flashed a fake but polite smile. “Girlfriend. And she’s waiting for me, so can we speed this along, a little, please?”

“Girlfriend?” Keith snorted again just as he passed the last item, a jar of marshmallow fluff over the red laser light then held it up, shaking it in a mocking fashion. “What is she, twelve?”

Dean snatched it from his hand, threw it in the bag, and did it all with a glare of his intense green eyes. One that made Keith assume would result in his death should he speak another word. 

Continuing to stare down the very young and very nervous cashier, Dean averted his eyes for just a moment, to see a small, plush little teddy bear holding a heart and a miniature mylar ballon, also decked out in hearts, sitting on the top of Keith’s register. Making intense eye contact with Keith, Dean reached out, and added it to the belt and stared the kid down until he finally scanned it, then placed it in the bag. 

The small bit of fear reflected in Keith’s expression was enough to calm Dean’s annoyance. “Buddy,” he said, as he relaxed his gaze as he drew out his wallet, looked at the final tally, and slapped down the total amount in cash, “let me tell you something. When you finally get the opportunity to touch a woman--something I assume is still years away for you--and you find the woman that makes you realize that it's all worth fighting for... A trip to the grocery store to get her everything she could possibly need is the easiest thing in the world to do. Even if it means dodging old ladies and Vagisil. Alright?”

Keith could only nod and wait until Dean gathered his few bags up before taking the cash that resided on the metal table beyond the register. 

The cool air hit Dean’s face as he exited through the second set of automatic doors that led to the parking lot. Throwing the bags on the floor of the Impala, he slid behind the wheel and smiled a soft, thoughtful smile. It was something he did every time he was about to head home knowing she was there, without even realizing he was doing it. 

Back at the bunker, she was curled up in the fetal position in the bed she shared with Dean; head pounding and a sheen of sweat coating her skin. Though she were freezing internally, the fever that raged told her body to both sweat and shiver at the same time. Praying Dean would return soon with the few necessary items, she tried to reposition herself on the bed so she could drink water before falling back down to the mattress, exhausted.

The flu, or whatever it was infesting her, had taken its toll. She had been down for two days, and not able to do much more than lay in bed. Sam had left on a hunt a few days prior, and Dean was doing his best to make sure she had what she needed while still sending Sam support for the job at hand. 

Off in the depths of the halls, familiar sounds of footsteps were coming closer. Hoping it was Dean, she did her best to push the sweaty remnants of hair aside and adjust the t-shirt she wore, so she didn’t look as bad as she thought she did. The faint knock at the door made her look up and call out for them to come in, but the dryness of her throat protested, sending her into a coughing fit.

The door opened, Sam was coming in to check on her, but stopped in his tracks and covered his face with his hand when he saw how sick she really was. 

“Whoa. What the hell happened to you? When I left you had the sniffles,” he said, his voice muffled through his fingers. 

“The flu happened,” she rasped in reply between coughs.

“Where’s Dean?”

“Getting supplies. I hope... He’s been gone a while. Probably because I asked him to go to the actual store. Not the gas station.”

Sam laughed and nodded. “I’m sure he’s having quite the adventure. Alright, let me go see what we got in the kitchen in the meantime. You really do look like crap.”

“Gee. Thanks. Didn’t realize,” she muttered sarcastically before finally falling back to the mattress.

In the kitchen, Sam pulled out a variety of ingredients and was happy to realize he could make what he intended without having to make a supply run of his own. The soup he threw together was simmering, filling the kitchen and surrounding hallways of the bunker with a delicious aroma by the time Dean made it home. 

Dropping the bags on the table, Dean watched his brother curiously for a moment as he slipped the jacket from his shoulders. 

“What’s that?” he asked, peering over Sam’s much taller shoulder. 

“Soup. Or did you not notice the Ebola situation going on in your room?”

“I got her soup. Along with everything else she needs to get better,” he replied, rolling his eyes behind Sam’s back. 

Without turning around, Sam replied, “Let me guess. Chicken and stars, marshmallow fluff and saltines.”

“Yeah… but also Nyquil, oranges, and Gatorade,” Dean retorted with an incredulous snort but left out the part where they were her suggestions. “But, yeah, I absolutely got some other necessities. Hey, don’t knock it, they always worked for you.”

“They worked for me because after you turned around and left, I would sneak down to the closest store and get actual medicine and real soup.”

“Real--Sam… this IS real. Just add water, heat, and stir.”

Sam shook his head and turned back to the stove. “My point is, she cannot live and get better off fluff, alone. Go give her the meds and a Gatorade, this will be ready soon.”

Dean silently mocked his brother’s instructions and grabbed the bag with the few things she specifically asked for, along with a few other things he thought she may want. By the time he reached their shared bedroom and cracked the door open, he was relieved to see that she was sleeping peacefully. Her hair was sweaty and pushed back from her face which was still flush with fever, but it didn’t stop him from leaving a sweet kiss against her head. 

Placing the bag aside, he retrieved the foul-smelling medicine and poured her a shot in the enclosed cup before gently shaking her awake. As she started to come around, he readied the bottle of Gatorade so she could easily take both and then go back to sleep.

“Hey sleepyhead,” he said as she opened her eyes and smiled despite feeling like she’d been hit by a truck.

“Hey…” she pushed herself up on her elbows and looked around slightly confused. “Did I see Sam here earlier or was that a hallucination?”

Dean laughed. “He’s here. He’s making you soup.”

“Oh… that’s sweet. Did you grab--”

“I got everything on your list, and then some. But for now, take this…” he handed her the medicine, and then the bottle of fruit punch. “Then, have this.”

She did as told and once both were consumed, she laid back down on the pillow and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Dean. I know going to the store was a pain, but--”

“It was fine. As long as you got what you need.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t come back with half the store, honestly.”

“There may or may not be a few more bags in the kitchen. But for now, just get passed this fever, then we can talk about making smores with Lucky Charms.”

“What? Ewe.”

“No, it's good. Trust me. Make ya feel better in no time.”

“Hm, no. I’ll pass, but you knock yourself out,” she giggled and then closed her eyes. 

“You rest, okay? I’ll check on you in a bit. Hopefully, you’ll feel better and look a little less…” Dean trailed off, trying to find a nice way to put it. 

“A little less… what?”

“Well, you sorta look like a shifter that didn’t quite shift all the way. Kinda pale and gooey,” he shrugged, and despite her weakened state, earned him a solid punch in the arm from his girlfriend. 

“Jerk.”

“Yeah, well, you love me,” he winked and stood from the bed. “Oh, I uh, got you a few other things in the bag there. But they can wait. Just get try and get some sleep.”

She rolled her eyes, but then with as much energy as she could muster, reached for the bag and looked inside. Pulling out the small bear with the balloon, her eyes found him quickly and he felt a rush of feeling for how she was looking at him. 

“I love it, thank you,” she said and held it close to her. Once she removed the balloon, she burrowed into the covers with the bear and sighed contentedly. Dean bent down to kiss her head again, and before he turned to leave the room, she called out for him. 

“Dean, wait.” Sitting up again, she knew she only had another moment before her head dictated she lay it back down. “Thank you for everything. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but thank you for all you do for me.”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’d do anything for you. Get some sleep. I’ll check on you soon.”

He waited until she laid back down and quietly closed the door behind him. A little smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he realized she was the one who could potentially domesticate him, the thought of which didn’t scare him the way it would have before. As Dean made his way back towards the kitchen, the only thing that did scare him was realizing he forgot to get any kind of disinfecting spray to bomb the bunker with. Despite how cute she may have looked cuddling the small bear and falling asleep in his bed, he didn’t want anyone else to suffer from her Ebola-like germs.

Everything Tags: @sorenmarie87 // @yallgotkik

SPN Tags: @kazosa // @wings-of-a-raven // @closetspngirl // @idreamofplaid// @screechingartisancashbailiff // @linki-locks11 // @winchesterxfamilybusiness// @spnhollis // @sandlee44 // @stoneyggirl // @clarinette07 // @negans-wife // @deans-baby-momma // @hobby27 // @breereadsthings // @katehuntington // @81mysteriouslyme // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @aomi-nabi // @akshi8278 // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare// @coffeebooksandfandom // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @fictionalabyss // @adoptdontshoppets // @blackcherrywhiskey // @babypieandwhiskey // @maddiepants // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox // @unlikelygalaxygiver

[wannabemerida]

I had so much fun writing my first kid fic with the help of my beta, @heartthrobphilly  and basing it off of @bluevlvvt ’s artwork (the link above!) —— Word count: 2.6k Prompt: Phil offers to drive his friends daughter (lola) to her ballet lesson. he runs into a cute dad with his daughter rosie. he offers to drive lola to her ballet lessons every week after that. (slow plot development lol) Warnings: light cursing, angst —— It’s 3:02pm as Phil waits outside of Brookside Elementary School. According to Ian, Lola usually exits through this door and waits to be retrieved from the playground. So far, there’s no sign of the little blonde girl playing outside.

A shout of “Uncle Phil!” catches his attention and he turns around to the soccer pitch just in time to see the kindergartener running at him, embracing him in a hug when they collide. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m taking care of you tonight, remember? Your dad has a big business dinner, and your mom is in Wolverhampton for her job, yeah?”

“Ohhhhh, I just thought Grandma would be taking care of me again,” the six year old explains, not seeming particularly fussed.

“C’mon, let’s head home.”

Two hours later when Phil suggests they order Chinese to the brick house, Lola quickly shuts his craving down. “Uncle Phil, we can’t have Chinese tonight, Thursdays are always Kraft Dinner nights, dummy!”

“Hey Lola, are you done with your dinner? You have ballet soon and still need to get ready!” Seeing Lola’s face that has a bit of the cheesy noodles left on it from quickly scarfing down her meal, Phil grabs a paper towel from the roll on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah! Do you have my leotard?” Phil grabs the light green leotard out of the overnight bag that Lola had brought along, handing it to her with the napkin, (“Lols, you’re a mess!”) her slippers, and a pair of tights.

The drive to the Portner Ballet Studio takes about 15 minutes, with Phil accidentally hitting every red light possible. This causes Lola some distress, claiming that the five minutes she has before class “isn’t enough to talk to Rosie, and she’s the only nice one there that I like.”

Nevertheless, when the raven-haired man and his favorite “niece” enter the building, a small girl with fluffy brown hair immediately runs up to Lola and hugs her. “Rosie, this is my Uncle Phil!

“Lola! You’re finally here! Daddy said you might not be coming today because you’re normally here before me,” the brunette pauses, “but you’re here now, see, Daddy? I told you she would come!”

Phil is frozen. The man who walks up behind Rosie is the most beautiful person Phil has seen, and that’s saying something, considering that Chris Hemsworth exists. But no, the curly brown fringe, hazel eyes, tall, lanky stature, and his soft face (not to mention his monochrome aesthetic and “best dad in the world” travel mug) easily outrank even the likes of Thor.

“Um, hey?” Phil is snapped out of his trance, needing to be able to respond to the greeting. “You’re Lola’s uncle?”

“Well, um, sort of? I’m really good family friends with Lola’s dad, and so I’m kind of an unofficial uncle to her.” Had he been responding to anything else, Phil probably would’ve stuttered, but the number of times he’s had to explain the title makes it so he can explain perfectly, even in front of someone this stunning.

“I’m- I’m Dan.” The two men glance over at the young girls who are chattering animatedly.

“Oh, yeah, Phil Lester.” Dan holds his hand out for a handshake.

“Rosie’s my daughter,” he says quietly, but there’s no mistaking the fondness he has when he says it.

“I can tell, she looks just like you, without the black and white.”

“Oh, I guess we do? My parents keep saying she looks like, um, Angie-” Dan’s voice decrescendos as he gets further along his sentence.

“Angie … is Rosie’s mom?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” Phil’s heart drops.

“Cool.” Not cool. Dan has a wife. Dan had a kid. With his wife.

“Have you got any kids?” Dan asks, a light blush still visible across his cheeks.

“Ah, no, I didn’t have time to find someone in Uni and now I’m single with 2 masters degrees.” Phil unconsciously plots a way to make himself seem more interesting.

“What are they in?” Dan asks, looking genuinely curious.

“I got my first one in English language and linguistics, and my second in post-production editing.”

“What do you do with those? How do they fit together?”

“I’m a special effects engineer for Disney, and they don’t really fit together to be honest,” Phil pauses, “although I do make YouTube videos and that kind of meshes them together,”

“Wow, um, cool,” Dan stutters.

“So what about you?”

“Huh?”

“What’s your job, besides ‘best dad in the world’?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m stupid.” Phil giggles, thinking of how his father would reply with ‘Hi stupid, I’m dad!’. “But I’m a writer for Vogue and I dabble in fashion photography. It’s mainly just taking photos of Rosie if I’m being honest, but the photographers sometimes get sick and I end up doing the shoot.”

“Vogue? Like, the fashion magazine?” Phil doesn’t know much about fashion, but he’s seen the magazine numerous times in the Tesco checkout lane.

“Yeah, well, technically it’s British Vogue, but…”

“Yeah.”

There’s a calm but slightly awkward silence as the conversation loses direction. The two men avoid eye contact, not wanting to make it worse.

The silence is broken by Dan’s tenor voice. “So what films have you worked on?”

“I got to work a bit on Spiderman: Homecoming, but the Live-action Beauty and the Beast was pretty fun. You know the scene where the gold leaf comes off of the ceiling to go on Belle’s dress?” When Dan nods, Phil breaks out into a grin. “That was me.”

“Wow.” Dan breathes out. “After she saw that, she kept trying to put stickers on her ceiling in the hopes that they would transfer to her shirt. It was a nightmare.”

“Ah, sorry.”

“Nah mate, it was kind of funny as well. I’ve got a few photos that I’ll save for when she graduates.”

“She’ll love that,” Phil chuckles, and the deep, throaty sound makes Dan’s heart stutter. “So you’re into fashion?”

Dan blushes. “Yeah? I mean I can’t really afford any designers, but I’ll turn into a fanboy at times.”

“Why do they charge so much? Like, half of the suits these designers make look identical to something I could buy from a department store for thousands of dollars less.”

“Well, a lot of designers carefully hand-make every piece, whereas the stuff you get in a store has probably been made by a pre-programmed machine and poorly paid workers in a factory. There’s also differences in fabric types, quality, and origins. And, a lot of designers will tailor the suit to perfectly fit you for a slightly higher price. If you go to a department store-”

“I see what you mean when you say you turn into a fanboy, but thank you for the mini lesson on why celebrities are willing to spend so much money on a navy tux. Your insights are amusing.” Phil grins.

“Did you also know that navy suits are better investments than black ones? It’s because the blue fits into so many more settings than a black one.”

While Phil could watch Dan talk about his passions for hours, just watching and memorizing how the lines change across his face, and God, that dimple, Phil supposes his relentless staring would get a bit creepy. “So what are the ballet lessons like? I’ve only been to a few of Lola’s performances.”

“Oh, um, well, they spend the first 20 minutes warming up, and then they move to the barre where they practice a bunch of stuff that’s in French that I can’t remember, and then they start to go over the routine for their next performance.”

“What is it?”

“What?”

“Their next performance?”

“Yeah! Sorry, I’m stupid,” Dan blushes for what must be the fiftieth time since he first met Phil. “The studio is putting on The Firebird.”

“No! Um, I mean, you’re not stupid. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with The Firebird. What is it about?” Phil has heard the name before, but only in the context of movie scores resembling Stravinsky’s composition. “It sounds kind of intense, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know much, but from what Rosie’s told me, the firebird gets caught by a prince and when he lets her go she helps him defeat the magician to save some princess, but I’m pretty sure I’m missing like half of the plot. I would say to just Google it and not to go by my word,” The nervous laughter emitted by Dan makes Phil instantly worry that he might have made the brunet uncomfortable or misread Dan’s friendliness as a blossoming friendship when it might have been a ploy to gather gossip for the nosy ballet moms.

“Thanks, I think I’ll trust you on that.” Dan offers a small smile at Phil’s response, letting the two men fall into silence as they watch the group of young girls and 3 boys practice their pliés and dégagés. An hour and a half later, the children exit the studio and find their guardians to go home.

“It was nice meeting you, Phil,’’ Dan admits as Rosie and Lola exchange a goodbye hug. The six words send Phil’s heart into overdrive and he feels his cheeks heating up.

“Yeah, you too, Dan,” Phil replies, proud of himself for not tripping over his words. Looking back, Phil’s whole interaction was impressive, considering his track record of ending up injured in some way.

Last time, Phil wound up with a broken ankle, having paid more attention to the cute digital renderer than the set of stairs they were walking down. It wasn’t all for nothing, though, Phil having gained the cute man’s phone number. Not that that did much for his love life, finding out two days that the boy he had his eyes on was dating the very female gaffer of their most recent movie, but that’s not the point.

This time, nothing will happen, because a) Phil dropping Lola off at ballet was a one time thing, so most likely, he’ll never see Dan again, and b) Dan has a daughter, who is his genetically, which means he has (or had) a wife, all summarizing that no matter how cute the brunet is, Dan is straight.

Not that Phil’s brain will accept that Dan is off-limits as a possible partner. Over the next few days, the image of soft brown eyes, curly fringes, and lanky limbs continuously make appearances in the back of Phil’s head. The very effective distractions cause Phil’s co-workers to worry, and PJ’s repetitive “have you been sleeping okay?”s have driven Phil to the point of insanity.

The answer to PJ’s question is quite easily “no”, Phil having only slept well once that week (he refused to admit it but that was the night that he got off to the image of a faceless figure who looked suspiciously like the boy who wouldn’t leave his head.)

By Wednesday, Phil was fed up with his brain’s reaction to not having seen Dan since the previous Thursday. Pulling out his phone, he does the only thing he can think of to satisfy his hungry mind. He calls Ian.

“Phil? Do you need something?” is the answer he gets when Ian finally picks up.

“No, um, I was just wondering, would you like me to take Lola to ballet again tomorrow?” Phil looks at the lines he had written down on a notepad, an effort to keep himself from going into a 20-minute rant about how in love with Dan he is.

“Sure, I guess? Why are you offering?”

“Just thought that you and Pam could use a break,”

“Oh, okay then, thanks! Same as last week?”

“Sure! Talk to you later!”

Phil’s convinced that his squeal of excitement was the reason that the people who lived across the street turned their lights on and not the fact that their smoke detector went off. He probably set that off too, in hindsight. And caused the stove fire.

23 hours later, Phil finds himself standing inside the dance studio again, surrounded by shrieking kids, chattering parents, and the faint sound of the top 20 radio playing in the background.

“Mister Phil! Where’s Lola?” Rosie pulls on Phil’s sleeve, stopping when she sees her best friend walk out of the bathroom.

“Why, Miss Rosie, she’s right there!” Rosie giggles, pulling out of a hug with Lola.

“I know that now, silly.” She and Lola run into the studio, eager to get to do the optional partner stretches before class starts.

“Are you Lola’s father?” A woman dressed in a skirt suit and heels walks up behind Phil.

“Oh, no, I’m just a family friend. I occasionally take Lola to ballet to give her parents some alone time.”

“Ah.” The woman sticks her hand out for a handshake. “I’m Angela Wright, Rosie’s mom.”

Had there been a small creature under it, Phil’s heart would have killed it from the speed at which it fell. He knew that Rosie had a mom, that Dan had a wife, that Dan wasn’t available. So why did it still hurt so much?

“Oh, cool,” Phil responds a moment later, his voice considerably deflated.

Phil’s unspoken question is answered right as it pops into is head. “Dan contracted the flu, and is stuck at home in bed, which is why I’m here this week. I’m normally responsible for taking Rosie to taekwondo while he takes care of ballet lessons, but that evidently won’t work this week. Honestly, it’s just like Dan to get a winter disease in the middle of summer.”

“I was going to ask about setting up a playdate between Rosie and Lola, but…” Angie trails off.

“Yeah,” Phil nods in understanding, not liking this woman any more than he did a minute ago. “I’m gonna go sit down.” No response comes from the woman, but Phil’s not particularly bothered.

Maybe he should be nicer to the wife of the man he’s stupidly trying to woo, but he just can’t. How is he supposed to be nice to his competition, who’s already clearly won?

When he vaguely notices the ballet instructor make a big motion with her arms, Phil decides that watching a group of five and six year olds is an adequate distraction from the turmoil in his brain. After 10 minutes of watching the kids do various tasks, jumping and prancing around the room, he zones off.

“Uncle Phillll, come onnnnnnn!” wakes Phil from his trance, no longer seeing the ballet students in the studio but now milling around the lobby and leaving. “Class ended like, forever ago! Can we leave? I wanna go get ice cream!”

A quick look at the clock told Phil that class had only ended 5 minutes ago, but to an antsy six-year-old, he supposed that could feel like an eternity.

“Lola, we aren’t getting ice cream. I’d rather not have your parents be mad at me for loading you up on sugar, right?” The small girl pouts but grabs Phil’s hand, dragging him to the car.

While it was easy getting Lola into her car seat, getting her out was a whole other task. It took Phil, Ian, Pamela, a blanket, 2 stuffed animals, and a lullaby to successfully remove the sleeping child out of the carseat, into the house, and onto her bed where she could sleep without interruption.

Once he was back in his car, Phil sat in the driveway, resting his head on the steering wheel, regretting ever offering to take Lola to dance lessons at all. Remember back in college when all those crushes were single? You fucked up, bud.

[otome-miss]

Family Ties (Part 2/5)

Title: Family Ties (Part 2/5) Author: @otome-miss Fandom: Mystic Messenger Characters: Saeran Choi, MC/Reader, Saeyoung Choi/Reader Ship: SaeranXMC (unrequited) SaeyoungXMc (secondary) Genre: Angst/Family Life Warnings/Rating: PG13 (This chapter doesn’t include any warnings though) Word Count: 1332 Summary: Saeyoung returns home to surprising news. Saeran encourages MC and struggles with his own jealousies. 

Part 1

Note: This is set after 707′s secret ending. Its also an ongoing series. I’ll add links as the parts come out. Aiming for one chapter a week.

AO3 Link

Saeyoung was dead tired. This trip hadn't been the most successful. Running a business like the toy store was hard in a way that hacking hadn't been. He was constantly making sure he wasn't blowing the cover that he'd given himself, you, and Saeran. If he was careful you could all live a normal happy life together…but if he slipped up, it could mean disaster for all of you. In a business where networking was key, this posed a challenge for the redhead. It constantly reminded him that he still couldn't be himself out in the world.

 However, his greatest consolation was you. With you he could be himself. He'd missed you so much this trip. You'd tried to come with him but, he'd asked you to look after Saeran. Even though the younger twin had been doing well recently…he couldn't stand the idea of his brother being alone.

 As he was packing his bags in the hotel room his phone suddenly lit up. "Is it my honey?" He mused aloud, grabbing the phone from its resting place on the nightstand. It wasn't you, it was Saeran. Instantly the red-head felt his shoulders tense. Saeran rarely texted him, despite his many attempts to goad him into doing so. He opened the message and it read:

"You better not give MC any trouble tonight. If you're in a crap mood and are tempted to push her away, I'll kick your ass for hurting her. She needs you right now."

Before he could even think he was dialing your number. It rang until it went to voicemail. What the hell was going on?  

 He threw his suitcase together as fast as he could and checked out of the room- keeping his responses at the checkout desk curt. He didn't have time to waste energy on anything but trying to solve whatever problem was happening back at home. But how could he solve it if he didn't have the answer? And why weren't you picking up your phone? He had rung you a dozen times now and Saeran another dozen. Saeran never picked up…but you always did. What on earth could you be doing? Saeyong considered stopping to hack into the home camera's but it would take some time considering all he had on him this trip were his phones and that would mean being home later. If you needed him then it was better to be there in person as quickly as possible.

  The tires of his car squealed as he parked it messily in its usual parking space in the bunker's garage. He definitely pushed the boundaries of safe driving to arrive back home. The red-head was out of the car in an instant. He swung open the door to the living room and marched inside- steeling himself for anything. A war zone. Instead, he was greeted by the smell of a home cooked meal. His favorite- and it was definitely your cooking and not Saeran's. He could hear you humming tunelessly in the kitchen. "MC! My soulmate 606! Where are you? The Defender of Justice needs his source of power!" His tone was light and joking. Whatever it was couldn't have been bad if you were able to cook like this right? He heard something drop in the kitchen as soon as his little speech was finished. He rushed in and found you frozen watching the doorway like you were waiting for him. The wooden spoon you'd been using to stir the pot had fallen to the floor. "S-Saeyoung…" You managed to stutter out. "Welcome home. I thought I'd have a little more time to have everything ready."

 He stood on the other side of the kitchen feeling like a hole had opened up between you two suddenly. You were so nervous to see him and not in a good way- he could tell that, at least. He crossed the room refusing to let that hole in his mind's eye come into existence. He reached out, took you in his arms and you let him. He felt you relax into his touch, much to his relief. "It's good to be home, MC." Saeyoung said, voice vibrating deep in his chest. "But…tell me what's wrong."

Silence.

Then a small whimper.

"Saeyoung…I'm afraid you'll try to pull away again when I tell you. That's why I wanted to make a nice dinner and try to…" Your words trailed off. He could feel his shoulders muscles knotting and tension building up his neck. He'd probably have an awful tension headache later but right now the only thing he cared about was hearing the truth. He couldn't even deny that he might pull away temporarily. It was his way of dealing with things and though he was getting better at letting you and Saeran in…his defense mechanism had not been completely forgotten. "MC I promise that even if whatever you says has me confused…even if I pull away…I will always come back."

He felt you brace yourself and then heard the words that would invert everything in his world.

"Saeyoung we're pregnant. I mean- I'm pregnant."

 ~

Saeran scrubbed furiously against his scalp trying to work through the conversation he had with you in the bedroom earlier.

 "Saeran, I'm pregnant." Your voice wavered like you were delivering news of a fatal illness. Saeran couldn't understand why. Hadn't you and Saeyoung wanted children at some point? Why weren't you happy?

 His voice came out soft in reply to your distress, "Is that a bad thing?"

 Your reply was even more confusing. "I don't know." You lifted your eyes finally meeting his. His stomach flipped at the warring emotions he saw in your gaze. "W-what if Saeyoung isn't happy? What if he…doesn't want a baby? It wasn't like we were even planning for one right now. He just started working on the store and everything is new and good right now. This will change everything…"

 He understood now. She was afraid of losing Saeyoung. That idiot. He'd pushed her away too many times and made her worry unnecessarily. He'd watched Saeyoung do it throughout his relationship with MC. With time, it had become less and less of an issue. Saeyoung had learned to stay open without curling back into himself. He knew, though, that if presented with something stressful enough his brother might regress. His first reaction could be to push her away. He didn't want to watch her struggle with that pain alone.

 "My brother can be an idiot MC." Saeran started carefully. "But…if you want the baby, he'll want the baby. If he steps out of line…we'll put him back." He'll put him back, for you.

 You'd pulled him into your arms at that point. He was worried you'd be able to feel his heart banging against his chest. He'd pulled away quickly but when he'd looked over, afraid he might've hurt your feelings, you were just smiling softly at him. He knew he hadn't been able to erase your worry completely but if you were smiling, it meant he had done something right.

 Later, when he'd heard Saeyoung come inside he'd gotten in the shower. He wanted to give you both privacy. He wanted to scrub away the jealousy that kept gnawing at him. He wanted to stop picturing how it would've felt to be in Saeyoung's place. 'Saeran…I'm pregnant. We're having a baby.' Your eyes sparkling up at him in his imagination as you uttered the words he never realized he'd be desperate to hear.

 Through the muffling sound of the water he heard something. At first, he thought it was nothing- just a trick of his own nerves. Whatever it was started getting louder until he realized it was raised voices. He slammed his hand down on the faucet handle to turn the water off and scrambled out of his shower. He was throwing his clothes on and running out the door of his bedroom barely dressed for the second time that day.

[authoressskr]

Secret Santa (Part Two)

Prompt: Secret Santa who keeps getting me random shit, like why would I want this blender AU (I Tweaked It A Bit)  ++  Pairing: Castiel x Reader  ++  Warnings: Language  ++  Word Count: 1,706

Note: Do NOT repost, copy and paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION. -+- REBLOGGING is fine! -+-

Two days later, Missouri rounded everyone up for an early morning meeting to go over the last exchange at the Christmas party that night. You nudge your elbow against Cas’s arm as you take a spot on the wall next to him, watching his mouth stretch into a small smile.

“Been busy with all the returns and checkouts this week? I haven’t seen you in a couple days.”

“Yeah - Dear Lord,” you sigh softly, pushing a piece of hair away from your face. “Just dealing with the handful of parents who refused to pay for their kids’ books was a nightmare. One book was missing a giant swath of paper and had gum stuck to the back inside cover. Then dealing with trying to loan out the books for the next classes...by the way, I booked your class for the second day back from break.”

“Thank you. I wasn’t expecting it that soon.” Your face falls a little.

“Oh. Well, I can switch it with someone else if that doesn’t work with you…”

“No. No! It’s fine. I just figured you would be busy after the break.” You’re kicking yourself at just assuming he would want to come that early, leaning against the wall as your good mood died. “I - I, uh, would love to come that day.”

“I’ll switch you with Mrs. Ferguson. Her time-block is on 15th. No big deal.” You force a smile as his fingers slip around your wrist.

“I’ll be coming the 9th, Y/N. And I’m sorry to have upset you.” Not realizing how much closer he was until you looked up into those big sapphire eyes. “You look lovely this morning.” You can feel the rumble of his voice from the hand you’d - apparently - placed on his chest, fighting the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Thank you, Castiel.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I simply wanted to let you relax and work before bringing in a horde of children just back from vacation.”

“Uh-huh.” His smile widens as his thumb begins rubbing along the inside of your wrist, making your mind stutter before kicking itself back into gear. “It’s okay. I tend to be more emotional than not.” You smile brightly up at Cas. “And I’m a terrible liar, so my emotions are pretty easy to read.”

“A soft heart is a gift.”

“IF WE AREN’T INTERRUPTING…” Artemis, the sixth-grade P.E teacher, calls loudly from the front. Both of you drop your gazes, a cute pink coloring Cas’s cheeks as you remove your hand from his chest, his fingers tightening on your wrist before letting it fall from his grasp.

“Well,” Missouri begins, shooting you and Cas a knowing smirk. “I’ll be keeping this short and sweet this morning...Today is a half-day, as you all know, and the Christmas party is tonight. We will be doing the last leg of the Secret Santa after cocktail hour, which is at 6 pm. Remember to control yourselves and hydrate. Alright, everyone have a good day and I’ll be seeing you tonight!”

As other people file past you and Castiel, openly winking or chuckling, he leans forward to whisper in your ear.

“I’ll see you tonight.” His deep voice is filled with promise and you watch without shame as he walks out of the Administration Building, his dark blue dress shirt and black dress pants fitting him to a tee.

“I hope he meant that in a sexual way. Whatever it was he said to you.”  Pamela mutters happily as she links her arm with yours.

“Really, Pamela?”

“Yes, really. Hit it. And hit it hard.”

“Jesus.” You mutter as you disentangle your arms, stopping in front of the library’s south side doors.

“Exactly. Make that boy see Jesus.”

“It frightens me sometimes that you used to teach children, Pam.”

“That’s why I moved to more of a supervisor role for the other teachers,” She leans in like she’s about to tell you a big secret. “Better for everyone. Plus, I get to scope out all the hot single dads.” You roll your eyes and enter the library after you watch Pamela sashay away. Your friends…

---

“Whatd’ya get her for the last present?” Dean calls loudly over his shoulder as he plonks down onto Cas’s couch with a beer.

“Two scarves and a necklace.”

“Jewelry? Same rules as the lingerie, man.” Cas sighs heavily, fumbling with his tie as he enters the living room.

“Perhaps you are single because you have so many rules regarding gift giving.” Dean snorted at his best friend’s words. “I just wish this was easier.”

“It’s a tie - not a lifelong commitment.”

“Not the tie, Dean.” Dean sets the half-drunk beer on the coffee table, rising to help Cas with his tie.

“You like this girl?”

“Very much.”

“Then stop listening to me. At least partially.” He straightens the backward mess of a tie and claps him on the shoulder. “From what you’ve been telling me, she digs you. She likes your nerdy little ass, so I’m sure whatever you’ve gotten her - she’ll love. Just be yourself, just, ya know, not the intense you that you get when you’re nervous. Okay?”

“You’re right. This will all be fine. I am just overthinking this.” He heads back towards the bedroom for his suit jacket. “Women are difficult, Dean. I don’t see why you do this on a regular basis.”

“Takin’ ‘em home for a night is a whole lot different than dating.” Cas nods as he slips his wallet into his jacket pocket, along with his cell phone, plucking the box from the coffee table to drop off with Missouri.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, Cas. Let’s go nab your librarian. Oh - and remember to point out all the single ladies.”

“Yes, Dean.”

---

Cas entered the Chinese restaurant, the silky red walls look extra festive with the green and gold garland swayed along them. As he and Dean pass the two medium gold dragons just past the entryway, Cas can hear his co-workers now, the clamor of conversations and laughter echoing lightly down the hall.

He stops short when he sees you shuffle nervously, taking a big sip from your drink before laughing at something Pamela said. His chest tightens as your eyes meet, an easy smile stretching across his face in response to the bright one lighting up on yours.

Drawn to you, he crosses the room with purpose - ignoring Dean as he lags behind.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Cas.”

“Hiya Castiel. Who’s your handsome friend?” Pamela flashes a promising smile to Dean, subtly playing with her long necklace as he gives her a heart-stopping grin in return.

“This is my best friend, Dean Winchester. He’s single, a mechanic and likes classic rock.”

“What a coincidence,” Y/N says with a bright smile. “My friend Pamela Barnes is single, into classic rock and wants to make you see Jesus. Have fun.” Cas’s eyebrows raise as Pamela laughs and loops her arm through Dean’s, leading him to the open bar. Upon seeing his semi-startled reaction, Y/N lays her free hand on his bicep with a laugh. “Pamela would’ve said something along those lines if she would have stayed, trust me. She has NO filter.”

“Yes, I am aware. She commented on my hair when I began working here. Sex hair, I believe she called it.”

“That’s what we all call it.” Y/N clarified with a bright grin, Missouri and Principal Donatello Redfield stepped up to the microphone, tapping a few times to get everyone’s attention.

“All?” Cas whispers by her ear, moving in closer as she just smiled and turned her attention to the little stage.

“All.” She confirms over her shoulder, Cas catching a corner of her smile before she turned back to face the stage.

“Welcome staff! With cocktail hour winding down, we want everyone to gear up to reveal their Secret Santa alter egos! We will then have a buffet dinner and a few raffle prizes. Alright, everyone, Happy Holidays and good luck!” Donatello hands the microphone to Missouri as applause rings out throughout the room.

“Alright, gird those loins, grab those last presents and give ‘em to your Secret Santa recipient!”

Cas swallowed hard before following Y/N to the table where all the presents had been set up, nerves fluttering in his stomach.

His box was smaller than most of the others, easily grabbed at the front of the pile. When he turned around, moving around the swarm of people trying to get to their presents. A few steps away, Cas scans the group for any sign of his librarian.

“Castiel.” He turns around, seeing a small red box grasped in her hands.

“I had hoped it was you,” Cas confesses, nervously returning her smile before holding out the dark blue sparkly box for her. She switches the red box for the blue, gently prying the lid from the box.

“Oh, Cas.” She murmurs as she takes the necklace from the top, before giggling at the two scarves tucked into the bottom of the box. “Favorite book quotes and my favorite animal!” Without thinking, she rose up and brushed her lips against his cheek. “Oh - uh, open your gift, Cas.” Cas nods, taking the lid from his box before smiling even wider.

“Wookie.” He says fondly, removing the Christmas Chewbacca Itty Bitty and giving him a wiggle. There are a scope and small booklet just under the Wookie, Cas removing them carefully.

“It’s a Stellarscope and star observer guide since I heard you speaking so passionately to your students abo-” Cas cuts her off as he crashes his lips eagerly against hers. She moves closer, their bodies touching as applause and whistles sound around the room, Pamela calling out “It’s about time!” a handful of feet away. “I’m glad it was you too, Cas.”

“I think I did pretty well,” Missouri said with pride to Pamela and Dean, nodding at the new couple. “Mama gonna get a wedding invitation before long.” She chuckled to herself as she wandered back to the small stage. “Dinner is ready to be served!” Cas’s fingers entwined with hers, leading her to a table - stupid, easy smiles lighting up their faces.

“So, about that blender...”

Tagging: @lucis-unicorn @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @chelsea072498 @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @ourloveisforthelovely @sumara62

[stressedoutteenager]

I have a Yousana AU prompt that I would love for you to write, of course take all the time you need, don't worry about me waiting because I'll be re-reading all of your stories... prompt: 'My mom caught you checking me out in the store and confronted you so now I have to save you from her wrath because aren't you one of my brothers' friends, the dorky one - also…were you really checking me out?’ Hope you find it interesting to write because I've loved every fic you've posted! ❤️

Hey :)

Thank you for being so nice about waiting while I get to this prompt :) I hope you like it. Please let me know :D

———————————————————————————————————-

“I’m sohungry!”, Sana complains.

Her mother looks at her with a small knowing look.They’ve been out, shopping, for longer than Sana ever likes it.

When shopping, Sana has a system. She walks throughthe store, looking at everything once and if she sees something that catchesher attention she’ll look more closely at it.

Her mother on the other hand, she will walk throughthe store what feels like 20 times, looking at everything that amount of times,taking stuff with her but then deciding that she doesn’t want it and makingSana bring it back to its spot.

“We just need to pay and then we’ll gohome.”, Mamma Bakkoush says.

Sana nods and gets excited about the thought of goinghome and changing into more comfortable clothes but that feeling gets crushedwhen the two women see the queue at the checkout point.

There is only one cash register open and Sana sees howfast the employee tries to work so she doesn’t feel like being whiny about itanymore.

After five minutes they did not get much forward inthe queue. Sana puts her weight on one foot and then on the other. She’sstaring into nothing because she’s so exhausted.

“Sana, I’ll be right back.”, Sana hears hermother say and barely realizes that she dumps all the clothes into Sana’s arms.

This shakes Sana out of her thoughts. What does thatmean? Her mother didn’t sound like she was going to get something. She soundedtoo… aggravated.

Too confused to do anything immediately Sana justfollows her mother with her gaze. Sana observes how her mother seems to knowexactly where she’s going. Following the line her mother is walking Sana’s eyesland on a tall, dark-haired guy. His eyes are also trained on Sana and whentheir eyes meet from across the store, both of them look down in a bashful way.He seems familiar to Sana. She doesn’t quite know where she has seen himbefore.

Sana sees how his head snaps into the direction of hermother and even though Sana can’t see her mother’s face, she knows that she’snot just complimenting that guy.

Looking around her, seeing the queue has not movedmuch, Sana quickly walks over to her mother and the cute guy.

“… don’t know what you’re doing but it’s notpolite to stare like that. I know my daughter is very pretty but you needto..”, is what Sana hears and she instantly decides to intervene.

The tall guy looks overwhelmed, his eyes wide, hisright hand on his neck and his mouth lightly open as if he wants to saysomething but doesn’t know what and how.

Sana puts a hand on her mother’s arm and interruptsher rant.

“Mom, hey, mom. It’s okay.”, Sana saysquickly. All she understood from what her mother was saying to the guy, she nowrecognizes as one of her older brother Elias’ friends, is that he was lookingat Sana for some time.

Sana’s mother turns to her but keeps looking at theguy suspiciously for a few more seconds.

“He kept looking at you, obviously interested,which wouldn’t be a bad thing if he came over and said something instead ofstaring from afar.”, her mother tells her in Arabic.

Sana looks at the guy and then back at her mother. Washe? He is very cute and she knows that he is older than her, like her olderbrother. From the look on his face it’s clear that he doesn’t understand a word fromwhat Sana’s mother said which Sana is really glad about. This doesn’t need toget more embarrassing than it already is. The dark-haired guy looks back and forth between Sana and her mother butdoesn’t say anything.

“Mamma, this is one of Elias’ friends.”,Sana finally says and points to the guy, whose name she can’t remember for thelife of her. Elias mentioned it once but that was quite a while ago.“He probably only recognized us and tried to think of where he knows usfrom.”, she sends Yousef a look that tells him to just play along.“Right?”

He starts nodding quickly, looking obviously relievedthat Sana said that. He holds his hand out to Sana’s mother and says:“Yes, exactly. I’m Yousef. Elias and I know each other from school.”

Even though she is not completely convinced, Sana’smother nods slowly and looks from him to Sana. The look she gives her daughterobviously says that she’ll believe her for now but there will be a continuationof this conversation.

Sana’s mother looks back at the queue and thinkingthat they’ll never get home if she doesn’t get in line again, she takes theclothes from Sana.

“I’m going to pay for these and then we cango.”

Sana nods but doesn’t go with her mother. Instead shewatches her get in line again and then turns around to Yousef. He balanceshimself on the heels of his feet and shows Sana a small, shy smile.

“I’m Sana, by the way.”, Sana says to breakthe awkward silence.

To be very honest, she thinks Yousef is a veryattractive boy. She’s almost too shy to look at him because of that. Some of her brother’s friends hang around Sana and Elias’ house all the time soto some extent Sana is used to being around cute, older guys. But thisparticular one, he has another completely different effect on Sana.

Yousef nods: “Yeah, I know. I mean, because Eliashad told me. We met a few months ago, at one of the football games weplayed?”

He reminds her of one of the very few encounters theyhad with each other but he seems unsure if Sana remembers. Sana nods. She does remember. But she didn’t get to watch much the matchbecause she had a school project that took a lot longer than she thought itwould have. She also remembers that Yousef was with her brother. He did drawattention to himself then.

“Yeah.”, Sana says and again there’ssilence. She looks behind her and sees that there are still three people infront of her mother.

She looks back at Yousef and is surprised by hisinterested look. He is very handsome, is all she can think about in thatmoment. This thought makes it hard for her to say anything for a few seconds.His dark hair is falling on his forehead and Sana’s hand itches to push it backlightly.

She doesn’t think much before saying it, she was toolost in his eyes, the same way he was lost in hers. How that happened neitherof them know but it didn’t feel awkward. At all. Which is weird because theyreally don’t know each other.

“So is it true?”

Yousef narrows his eyebrows in confusion. He presseshis lips together and waits for Sana to elaborate. Only about two steps arebetween the two of them.

“My mother told me..”, should she really saythat? Well, he is very cute and it wouldn’t hurt to know. “My mother toldme that you were checking me out.”

Sana watches as Yousef raises his eyebrows and lookslike he has been caught in the act. Is that enough of an answer for Sana? No.

“Is it true?”, she asks and looks him in theeyes while doing that.

Yousef’s right hand goes to his neck, which apparentlyis his nervous habit. Sana doesn’t know him for long but she did gather thatmuch in the past few minutes.

“Eh… No, I mean.. yes… kind of?”, Yousefanswers, stuttering his way through the sentence, if it can be called that.

Sana thinks it’s really cute and especially when shenotices him blush a little she presses her lips together to not smile too much.

Yousef is not sure what this reaction from her meansbut he is so nervous that he just keeps talking.

“I saw you and recognized you and you werelooking really pretty. I mean, you still do.”, he rambles and shuts hiseyes in embarrassment. Why is he like this? Yes, Sana is very beautiful but hedoesn’t need to get this nervous around her, does he?

Sana just watches him with an amused smile, feelingvery flattered and a little bashful at the same time. He’s not just handsomeand cute regarding his looks but he’s also a cute dork. Sana remembers seeinghim do something at the football game that had made her think that too.

“What I mean is, you’re very pretty.”,Yousef finally says after taking a deep breath.

At that Sana’s smile grows but she can’t look atYousef for too long. She gets shy after he compliments her straight out. Shelooks down on her hands.

“O my god. I’m sorry if I overstepped a line. Ijust.. I don’t know. I felt like I needed to say that.”

Sana looks up at him again and shakes her headlaughingly.

“No, no. It’s okay.”, Sana says. “Thankyou!”, showing him her dimples.

This results in them smiling at each other shylywithout saying anything. The silence is not awkward anymore, it’s nice. Theydon’t know each other well, barely. However, this very short conversation madeboth of them happier than they were before.

Sana forgets about how exhausted she is.

Yousef forgets about his worries of finding theperfect present for his mother.

Speaking of mothers, he sees Sana’s mother walktowards them and he quickly looks back at Sana and says: “Thank you forsaving me a few minutes ago. I wouldn’t want your mother’s first impression ofme to be that.”

Smiling, Sana nods: “No problem. I wouldn’t wantmy mother’s wrath to scar you. She’s very particular when it’s about me. Butyou should work on being less obvious the next time.”

Yousef smiles at her but doesn’t get a chance toanswer. Her mother arrives with her phone at her ear, just shortly telling Sanathat they’re going now.

Sana nods and wants to follow her mother until Yousefquickly calls her name.

She turns around while her mother walks out the doorof the store.

“Can I … is there a way we can talkagain?” Yousef looks so nervous and unsure about the answer he’ll receivethat he can almost not even look at her.

Sana smiles to herself. She is really happy that hedid make a move, that he didn’t just let her walk away from this. Even thoughthey didn’t talk long and didn’t talk about anything significant she feelscomfortable around him.

“You can add me on Facebook.”

Yousef lifts his head and looks Sana in the eyes. Hesmiles brightly at her, happy that she looks at him with a similar look.

“I will do that.”

With a smile, Sana nods, says Bye and turns around to go. Her mother probably wonders where shewent.

Sana meets her mother outside, who is still talking onthe phone and they start walking. Having not even walked five steps away fromthe store, Sana’s phone beeps.

Yousef Acar sent you a friend request.

Yousef waitsnervously. Was he too eager? She’ll probably think that and not even answer tothat. His phone beeps just seconds later.

Sana Bakkoush accepted your friend request.

[speaking-of-kpop]

Falling | Part 3

Pairing: Jaebum x OC

Category: Series

Word Count: 1242

I get to the supermarket a little ways down from our flat. It was fairly vacant, mainly only stay-at-home spouses shopping about.

Hmm, I wonder if I should buy some extra stuff for later throughout the week…I thought as I inspected the prices of the broths.

“Pardon me,” a voice behind me said.

I feel a chest nudging the back of my head, I glance up and watch as a pair of hands snag a chicken broth on the top shelf. I don’t register my position until he’s already backed up.

I turn around and see the same man who gave me trouble in the convenient store earlier that morning. He’s just as, if not more, handsome as he was then. His hair looked as though it was washed and dried and now slightly disheveled. He wore black distressed jeans, a black tee, and white sneakers. He looked good.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, giving me a subtle smile.

I give him a small wave, choosing to ignore the way we were standing mere seconds ago.

“I figured I’d see you again at some point.”

I don’t do anything and just stand there waiting for him to speak again.

“Umm, can I ask you a question? I’ve been wondering this since this morning.”

I nod.

“You don’t speak much do you?”

I shake my head.

“Is that a preference or habit?” He asks, purely curious.

“A habit from my childhood.”

“Ah okay. Why do you talk when you do?”

Why is he asking me so many questions? I’m not really uncomfortable, but I don’t understand why he’d want to speak to me if he made fun of me earlier.

“I speak if I can’t say yes or no,” I answer.

“Makes sense. Oh, I’m Jaebum by the way, and you are?”

I don’t think it would be bad to tell him my name, he does come to the store so he will know it eventually.

“Hara.”

“Ah, pretty.”

My face feels kind of warm, am I getting sick? I look down at my hands intertwined, I feel nervous for some reason.

“Do you need help shopping? I may not look like it but I can cook better than most,” he asked. I could use some help picking stuff for the week.

I nod.

“Alrighty then, let’s go grab some things. what are you trying to make?”

“A chicken and veggie stew.”

“Sounds delicious, let’s do it,” he said before grabbing hold of my cart and heading down the aisle.

~

We manage to grab everything I need for dinner with Mark and Jaebum pushes the cart into a checkout lane.

“Well, I’ll let you go here. I still have to shop for me as well.”

He was so helpful with my shopping, it would be a bit rude to just take his help and not return the favor, so an idea came to my mind.

I snag the end of his shirt, making him turn to me with wide eyes.

“Wh-what are you doing?” He asks with a stutter.

“Would you like to eat with my brother and I?” It’s the least I could do since he helped me, plus he doesn’t seem too bad.

“I would love to, but can I give you a piece of advice?”

I nod. Advice?

“Guys will get the wrong idea if you do things like this,” he says pointing to my hand, still clutched to his shirt.

I feel embarrassed for a moment and retract my hand.

“I’m sorry.” Gosh, why does my chest feel tight all of a sudden?

“It’s fine, it’s just for future reference, but I don’t mind it.”

I nod, feeling a bit ill?

We move up in line and he stays by me until we get to the register. The cashier scans my things and I go to pay, when Jaebum bumps me to the side and puts his card in the chip reader.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Why is he doing this? I can pay for this no problem.

“It’s a thank you in advance for dinner,” he smiles.

I can’t tell him that I only invited him to pay him back for helping me, but here he is helping me again.

He takes the receipt and his card, then pushes the basket now full of bagged items to the parking lot.

“Where’s your car?” He asks.

“I take the bus.”

“Huh? There’s no way you can carry all these on the bus in one go,” he argues.

Damn, I shouldn’t have bought so much. Mark and I only have the one car because he doesn’t want me going out on my own. What should I do?

I look around trying to put together ideas in my head of what I can do. I can’t call Mark because he would flip shit if he found out I was here without permission, I can’t take the subway because it would be busy with students at this time, maybe a taxi can help.

“I will get a cab,” I tell Jaebum before going to grab some bags.

He turns the cart and starts walking in another direction. I just stand there confused and stare at him walking away.

“A cab will cost too much, we can take my car,” he says peeking at me from over his shoulder.

Is it okay? Mark would kill, not me, but him if he found out. I know I’m not suppose to go in a strangers car, but I did even invite him for dinner so it can’t be too much worse.

I nod and trail behind him until we get to his black Audi R8. I learned a bit about cars in my studies, enough to know that this car was way to nice to be driven just to the local supermarket.

“She’s a beaut isn’t she?” Jaebum inquires, popping open the trunk.

I nod and place the groceries into the vehicle.

“Girls normally swoon over her, I’m guessing you’ve seen plenty of nice cars.”

“My brother drives a Lambo Aventador,” I manage to say as I finish up putting things away and shutting the trunk.

“Wow, um, so she is pretty average to you then. Like looking at a Chevy Impala,” he seems to pout.

“She’s beautiful.”

That must have been very nice to hear, because once I said it, he tilted his head and gently smiled at me. I avert my eyes and look back at the cart to put it away with the others in the lot. I swear my heart is doing somersaults, which would be a first.

When I come back over, he’s in the car waiting for me. I step into the passenger seat and get buckled in, when I feel a hand land on my wrist.

Startled, I look up at Jaebum instantly.

“Have you ever smiled?” He asks.

Have I? I mean I’m sure I have as a child with my parents, but after their passing I don’t believe I have. I was never able to make friends and Mark has tried and failed countless times, but am I able to?

I turn my head to him after thinking for a moment.

“I think I will when it’s most important,” I say, because it’s something I hope is true.

He takes his hand off and begins to pull out of the parking space when he says, “Well, I just hope I’ll be there to see it.”