#maybe next time I’ll add words to their silent communication judgmental staring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ddarker-dreams · 3 years

Text

Out With the Old. Yan Childe x Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Brief mentions of injury and blood, typical yandere undertones. Word count: 3.2k. Notes: i absolutely loved writing this!! i never realized how badly i needed a yandere childe that’s so obviously whipped for his darling. :’))

“Dearest [First],

I can only imagine the look that must be on your face as you read this. Don’t be too harsh on me for saying so, but I promise not a day goes by where I haven’t thought of you. Now stop scowling at the letter, it won’t do any good, after all; it’s just a piece of paper. I’d hate to come back home to see that you’ve aged from all that frowning at parchment.

Somedays I wake and fail to notice I’m in Inazuma instead of Snezhnaya. The scenery has its differences, of course, but it’s only when I realize I can’t see you that it truly sinks in. Writing this, I realize your judgment about my honesty only appearing in written form rather than in person is true. You’ve always had a penchant for keeping me in line, haven’t you?

Not that I can blame you.

You’ll be relieved to hear that the reason for my being here turned out to be a simple misunderstanding. There’s no grand coup d'état waiting to unfold amongst the lower ranks, so, unfortunately for me, it turned out to be a waste of time. On the bright side, that means I’ll get to come back home all the faster.

Tonia tells me that you’re doing well and I’m glad to hear it. I know your parents aren’t that fond of me, which is a smart call all things considered, but I hope they’re both in good health. Let me know if they need any help with their shop and I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t let them know it was from me, or they might blow a gasket.

When I come home, I wonder if I’ll see your face among the crowd on the pier this time.

At the very least… consider not discarding this letter like the others. Really, I can’t tell who is more stubborn, me or you.

-Yours eternally, Tartaglia”

This is the first letter of his that you’ve bothered reading in some time, as he made a point of mentioning. It’s difficult to identify the exact feelings his handwriting and characteristic word choice inflicts upon you, ranging from relief to exasperation. He has some audacity, refusing to see you in person for months on end, only to carry on as if nothing happened between you.

With the letter in hand, your mind wanders back, hoping to find some hints of where it all went wrong.

You remember the words said to you on that late, fateful winter evening. The confident timbre of his voice then still resonates in your head at random, never muffling despite the years that have passed, ringing as clearly as a bell. Does he ever think about it? It’s hard to say.

“One day,” Ajax, or Tartaglia as he claimed his new identity to be, had told you, “I’m going to conquer this world.”

His breath materialized in front of him as white, vaporous wisps. There’s something about that particularly frigid season that felt like magic, more so than the Cryo Vision wrapped snug around your neck. You bit back a scathing remark and instead focused your energy elsewhere. Your gloved hand raised and hovered just above his split lip, a prominent frown etched onto your face at the fresh wound. Likely the first of many to come, you lamented.

Your Vision pulsated with life and light blue shone through at your command. The tender, bruised flesh on his lip began to close, before it faded away altogether. Tartaglia raised his hand to gently touch where it had been, now nothing but a faint memory.

With that out of the way, you placed your hands onto your hips and gave him a stern look. “I wish you’d stop saying things like that. It’s going to get you into trouble one day.”

He laughed and waved off your concern.

“If only. Things have been so dull lately, I wouldn’t mind stirring up a little trouble.” Tartaglia hummed, much to your displeasure. It was no secret in your quaint hometown of Morepesok that this boy had been spiraling down a dangerous path. Your parents said as much and even encouraged you to break off ties with him. This just won’t do, you thought.

“Ouch!”

You flicked his forehead and offered up your most intimidating glare. “So you are capable of feeling pain, huh? Good. If it keeps you out of fights, then I won’t heal you anymore.”

Tartaglia rubbed the spot and smiled sheepishly.

“You say that, but I’m sure you’d change your mind if I came to you all bloodied and battered. You’re just that kind of person.” When he paused to reflect, you raised an eyebrow and challenged him.

“Now what’s this? I’m what kind of person, Ajax?” You pinched his cheek, much to his vocal displeasure, mischief gleaming in your eyes. “Say it loud and clear this time.”

“The kind that always looks out for others, even those who don’t deserve it.”

Your arms fell limp by your side. At that moment, your heart twisted in a way it never had before. It could only compare to how it felt when Ajax had stumbled back home after missing for three, long days. You weren’t sure if you had heard him right — his eyes widened as did yours like he felt equally surprised — and he rushed to save himself. The flush that dusted over his face was most certainly not from the cold weather.

Tartaglia shot up and made way for the door at a record speed. “I told my old man that I’d be home before dark. He already worries about me enough as is, so... I’ll be on my way. See ya around.”

Your rebuttal was slow as your tongue felt frozen. Tartaglia waved to you over his shoulder and took off, leaving you to wallow in your muddled thoughts. What exactly had he meant by that? Why did his gaze soften and his usually boisterous voice drop in volume?

Questions flooded your mind, questions that wouldn’t be answered for years to come.

ii.

You’ve always found this area of Morepesok to be serene. There’s no buzz of the community gathering, chattering about the latest gossip and notable news, no vendors vying for people passing by to purchase their fresh early morning catch. The surroundings are nothing but peaceful, and most importantly, silent. In the summer, there’d only have been the sound of the rushing rivers that are now frozen over and humming insects.

Twigs and dry leaves crunch behind the tree stump you’re hanging out at, signaling an approaching figure.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Tartaglia sits down next to you, blades of grass rustling against him as he did so. You don’t bother to look up, instead feigning interest in your fingernails, staring at them intently. Anywhere other than his face, which most likely than not would be boasting his trademark grin. Seeing the fake expression that he plasters on daily would only add fuel to the fire that rages inside.

Your lips part after an uncomfortable silence settles in, the atmosphere growing tenser by the second. “So you’re a Harbinger now, huh?”

“You don’t look impressed like everyone else,” He notes, his language notably more tentative than usual. It strikes through your heart, piercing flesh and blood, your fingers curling painfully tight. If he notices, he decides not to comment. Tartaglia gives you the time to process your overwhelming thoughts as if it’d make any of this easier on you.

“How could I possibly be happy about that?” You snap your head, catching how he’s momentarily caught off guard before it’s covered up just as fast. “This… this is going to be the death of you, Ajax. And Archons, the worst part is, I know me saying that won’t matter in the slightest. That death would just be the result of a fulfilling fight to you.”

Your breathing grows erratic, to the point you’re forced to stop speaking to regain yourself. He doesn’t dare utter a single word — uncharacteristically silent — watching your every movement with calculating precision. It’s taking all your strength to keep yourself together, not wanting to come undone in front of him, feeling weak just for showing this much. This is why you were hoping to avoid him, but figures he’d go out of to seek you out.

“And if I don’t die? Would that make a difference in how you feel?” He challenges, tilting his head, voice dipping in volume. “You can be honest with me, [First]. It’s not just that you’re upset about. No, there’s something else.”

He knows you too well and it’s beyond frustrating. Your body language might be difficult for others to read, but not Tartaglia, who picks up on every little nuance with ease.

Your lower lip trembles. “I hate that this is what you’ve become.”

“So that’s it then,” Tartaglia nods his head, once, coming to terms with it as soon as the words left your lips; like he already knew it all along. “I figured as much, but to hear you say it… haven’t you heard of mincing your words before?”

Hugging your knees to your chest, you internally plead with yourself not to let the nonchalant words get to you. It’s his way of dealing with strife to act unbothered, you know this, and still, it strikes deep. What if this isn’t a façade, but who he really is now? That boy you knew and grew up with — Ajax, your dearest friend — he may be physically sitting next to you, but his soul is gone. Whatever happened in those hellish three days changed him forever. Now his flesh and bones are nothing but a vessel urged on by bloodlust.

How ironic, you think. That your Vision lets you heal physical wounds, but not the unseen kind, which runs deeper than any gash could hope to. Maybe you were a fool for thinking you could fix him, revert him to how he used to be like nothing ever happened. Or maybe he let you try just to earn more time together for whatever twisted reason. Knowing that once reality settles in, you’ll go someplace far out of his reach, where he can never get you back. Sitting here, you realize that it won’t just be you losing him. He’ll also be losing you.

Is that why he is sticking around? To prolong the inevitable?

“When I look into your eyes,” you clear your tightening throat, not willing to let yourself cry. “There’s… there’s no light, no humanity, and you know it. That has to be why you chase all those stupid fights, all so that you can feel alive again.”

Tartaglia allows you the room to ramble without interruption, your venomous feelings that have long festered gushing out. When you work up the courage to look up, you find Tartaglia frowning, staring far off but at nothing in particular. So even he can sometimes be rendered to a loss for words, huh?

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, the chilly air invading his lungs. “You’re wrong about one thing.”

Another cautious pause. He’s giving this a lot of thought.

“My fighting is not for the sole sake of the adrenaline rush, as enjoyable as that is,” he scratches the back of his neck and forces a laugh. “It’s so that I can get stronger. I told you, didn’t I? That I intend on conquering the world. To do that, I need to be the strongest, or else I can’t fulfill my promise.”

Your lips part, eyebrows furrowing together in irritation, but he places a finger to your lips before you can tear into him. The leather feels cool against your skin, and it’s just now that you realize how close he is to you. Having been so absorbed in your emotions, you failed to notice his stealthy movements, the two of you now shoulder to shoulder. Your heart thrums, reminiscent of that day ages ago.

“When the entire world lays defeated at my feet, what I want is to have you by my side. Until that dream of mine comes true, I’m afraid I’ll have to continue making you sad, but know that it’s for a reason.”

Tartaglia pulls his hand back, his finger lingering just a second over your bottom lip, finally allowing you to speak your piece.

You’re drawn like a moth to a flame to his lifeless eyes, which have seen more bloodshed in the past few months than you could ever fathom. Murmuring, you find it within yourself to respond, albeit so quietly he has to cant forward to hear. “If you accomplish just that… who’s to say I’d want to be by your side? The side of a killer?”

“Hm? Did I ever say you had a choice in the matter?” Tartaglia returns your inquiry with a bold one of his own, one that sends you recoiling in astonishment. He lets the words settle like fresh snow on the ground before laughing them off. You cross your arms over your chest, making your displeasure over his comment evident.

“Please, I’m kidding! Don’t look at me like that,” he puts his hands up in mock defense. “Ah, it’s suddenly feeling colder than usual. You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you? I never thought that humble [First], the child of the town’s apothecary at that, would be so bold as to freeze me to death.”

Your nose wrinkles up and you hold back a laugh, swatting at his shoulder. “Yeah, right. Like I could ever stand a chance against you in battle.”

“You might be surprised! I could make a warrior out of you yet. Think about it, Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa saw fit to bestow a Vision upon you, didn’t she?” He accents his words by pointing to your neck, where you prefer to keep your Vision. Subconsciously, your hand raises, delicately touching the icy gem.

“I’m not like you,” you shake your head at his jest. “Hurting others is the last thing I’d ever want to do, trust me.”

He hums, your words taking him back, memories flashing in his mind. “I know, that’s why I’ve always done it in your stead.”

“Whoever would’ve thought fending off bored kids with a wooden sword would escalate into you climbing the ranks of the Fatui.” Had it not been for the final part of the sentence, you would’ve found it endearing to reminiscence back to your early childhood together. Still, the frost around your heart melts at the sweet memory, despite your attempts to keep it hardened. This goes to show how much I cherished it, you muse.

Lips curling into a smile, you take him by surprise and lay your head onto his shoulder. His muscles go tense, body unresponsive to the affection you used to bestow upon him in heaps. It’d been so long that he forgot the warmth you radiate like you were the sun incarnate. He had once commented that he expected a Cryo user to be cold, only to be delightfully surprised by how warm you were.

“Maybe I was always terrible, and you just didn’t notice?” He proposes, to which you snort.

“That most certainly is not the case. I’m a better judge of character than that.” You scoff at the mere idea. No, little Ajax had been nothing but a darling, there’s no doubting it. Wherever you’d go, he’d follow as if his life depended on it. There was hardly ever a time where the two of you wouldn’t be seen paired together.

“You’ll get no argument out of me there,” Tartaglia rests his head on top of yours like he used to. The circumstances have undoubtedly changed, but it’s nice to feign ignorance for a few minutes. “Say, you remember when we used to sneak off and meet here, right?”

“How could I forget?”

Tartaglia nods his head in agreement. “I was always dragging you into trouble, even then. I’m not one to dwell on the past, but I guess it’s hard not to when we’re here.”

Now that he mentions it, it wasn’t an immediate shift into his now unhinged personality; like all things, it began as a gradual descent. You should’ve noticed something was awry with how frequently he’d come to you, boasting injuries of all sorts. Each was accompanied by a rehearsed explanation as not to alarm you. Unfortunately for him, in a small town such as this, word travels quickly. It was inevitable that you’d find out the bitter truth behind his wounds.

Maybe you always knew but didn’t want to face reality.

“There was this one time in particular that always stuck out to me,” he closes his eyes, reflecting. “When I said I intended to marry you when we got older, or whenever you’d have me.”

You’re amazed at how Tartaglia recounts it without so much as stuttering, the humiliating memory sending your head spinning. There were so many memories he could’ve mentioned and that’s the one he decides to go with? You’re certain he’s messing with you at this point.

“I-I thought we swore never to mention that again!” You exclaim, blood rushing to your cheeks.

He blinks when you abruptly lift your head and shrugs off your concern. “I don’t remember ever agreeing to that. It was you who kept insisting to take a vow of silence on it, for whatever reason. Personally, I find it cute, you were so eager to accept my proposal then.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This irksome teasing quality had reared its head alongside his other new shortcomings. The best way to deal with it, you’ve learned, is to keep the conversation going. Dwelling on it for too long never ends well.

“So, Liyue, huh?” You recall the gossip from the marketplace earlier. Some locals were fussing over the news that the Fatui’s latest Harbinger, Tartaglia, would be sent abroad for more work. There were murmurs of excitement over how a child from this seaside town managed to make it so far up the ranks. And to think they used to bemoan Ajax’s violent streak, you remember. Now that it’s beneficial to them, they sure have changed their tune.

“I wonder what it’ll be like,” he muses. “Anthon seems to think the people there eat rocks, for whatever reason.”

“Kids always say the craziest things unprompted.”

He seems agreeable to that statement. Neither of you utters another word for some time, instead thinking of both the past and the future. It’s not a comfortable position to remain seated in, yet neither you nor he complains about it. For a few brief, glorious seconds, everything almost seems normal again.

“Hey, [First].”

You hum in response. Tartaglia’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, his eyebrows knitting together in contemplation. In the silence that follows, you swear you hear a sound akin to electricity crackling, the hairs on the back of your neck standing from the drastic shift in atmosphere.

“I meant what I said. Someday, you will be by my side. I don’t care what it takes, I’ll make it happen; even if you come to hate me.”

“Because once you make a promise… you keep it.”

And he intended to do just that.

#childe #yandere childe x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia #yandere tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff #commissions

862 notes · View notes

sharkiegorath · 7 years

Note

Liz/Finn + 157!

Thank you! :D

Staying at Finn's place is always weird. Frankly, Liz is most disturbed at the (probable) fact that he doesn't turn into a bat and sleep upside-down in a dank rafter. But at least it's quieter than her apartment, and he's less tense in his own territory, and a less-tense Finn is at greater risk of accidental sweetness. His recent suggestion had been startling, but not unpleasant - loath as she is to admit it, it is more convenient to leave some of her stuff here.

When she emerges from his bedroom, Finn is sitting on the sofa, working on his laptop. She strides over without a word; he remains outwardly apathetic to her presence as she rests her weight against one arm of the sofa. It's a habit of theirs, waiting to see who'll cave first in the smallest things - a fun minigame in the larger teeth-gnashing beat-'em-up of their lives, if you will.

"Soooo," she begins, "I read your diary,"

Finn's head jerks up. His mouth works immediately, though the rest of his face isn't anywhere near as committed. "Let's get this straight, it's a journal, not a diary - "

"Yeah, yeah, you're afraid of perceived inferiority from language you perceive as gendered, what else is new?"

"You tell me. You're the one who read my journal." He slaps the laptop's screen down and leans back kicking one knee over the other, arms folded, trying to exude an air of judgment but really hiding how his hands are trembling. "Is there a particular reason why you've invaded my privacy?"

His tone is more tepidly snide than heated or icy. Since an ongoing argument about transparency forms the bedrock of their relationship, there's no point pretending it's a major breach of trust; they'd smudged that line from the moment he'd gloated over obtaining her phone records and leaked them to the press with a handpicked photo of her and Richard. Telling him about her intrusion is as sporting as they can be with each other. Or anyone, for that matter.

"It started as an accident," Liz says, folding her arms as well. "I was putting things in a drawer and it was right there. I didn't realise what it was until the bottom of the first page." She'd acted on impulse and the cover had been unlabelled, not that a label would've discouraged her - if anything, she would've rushed to open it.

"Foggy brain today, huh."

"To be fair, it looked like a handwritten draft for a work email until you made a Spaceballs reference."

"I'll be sure to make it more entertaining for the next time you decide to play detective."

"Why don't you ever mention me?" Liz blurts. "I mean, by name? Or, just, actions?"

She'd meant to pose the question smiling coyly, like it was a joke - haha, funny how you meticulously recount boring details about your workdays without referring to me as a person you intimately interact with, it's like you're writing alternate universe fanfiction for your life where everything is the same except I'm replaced by an immaterial, silent being whom you occasionally briefly allude to as your 'boss'. Haha! Haha!

Okay, maybe it is better this way.

Finn's eyebrows have raised - from curiosity or alarm, she can't tell. "How far did you read, exactly?"

"Starting from around when we first -" She sticks her index finger through her curled fist and pumps them in sync several times, ending in a shrug.

"Jesus." Then, horrified: "Is that supposed to be sex?"

"I skimmed most entries."

"Right, and thanks to your massive ego, your eyes are specially trained to spot your three-letter nickname out of full-page blocks of text." Liz merely bites her lower lip and nods. Playing field levelled somewhat by her sudden hint of vulnerability, his gaze darkens; his voice dips to borderline suggestive. "Don't tell me you feel neglected."

"I feel like your reporting skills have shrivelled and died like a tomato plant after you've tried to talk to it."

Liz flops onto the sofa beside him with an exaggerated sigh. He scoots over minutely.

"Have you considered that this could've been a deliberate set-up to demonstrate how it's possible to maintain draconian control over a narrative while technically still telling the truth?" Finn questions.

"No, not for a single fucking second, because there's no way you're that patient, cunning, or proactive."

"All right, Liz, the reason why you never show up in my journal..." Turning to face her, he taps his forehead, smirking lightly. "I store every noteworthy interaction in here. Word for word. They're not easy to casually summarise. Every day? Impossible."

She scoots over, in Finn's direction. Now there's no more sofa left for him to retreat to. Her serene side-eye partially wipes the smirk off his face.

"I don't believe you," Liz says.

"You don't believe that's why you're not in my journal, or you don't believe that I remember?"

"Both. You are pretty old," she adds, lest he assume it's a passive-aggressive jab in the second case.

Finn watches her expression for a second longer, his own faltering until she captures his lips with hers. He seems somewhat distracted for the rest of the night. She does her best to distract him from that distraction, with debatable success; she falls asleep staring at the back of his head, slightly worried that she did overstep a boundary and drastically misjudged his reaction.

In the morning, she doesn't wake up next to Finn. The realisation supersedes her usual need for caffeine. In his place is a notebook - not the diary, she determines, but almost identical in its plain appearance. She flips it open.

Day One, Year One, Hour One, Liz reads, eyes widening. I arrived at Richard's office expecting a typical meeting. Instead I encountered what can only be described as a PR Disney Princess stepped off a HDTV screen, who probably should've been introduced singing about Communications with a background chorus of American Siri's misreading a transcript of her insipid TED Talk...

Laughing, she turns the page.

#babylon uk #otp: two opposite rights #liz garvey #finn kirkwood #sharkie fic #ghoulishmalady

7 notes · View notes

roxy-davenport · 7 years

Text

The Perils of Getting Clean

Pairing: Castiel x Reader, Castiel x unnamed OFC (friendship)

Word Count: 2,904

Beta: @raspberrymama

A/N: Fluffy, adorable, confused Castiel doing laundry. Kind of angsty for Cas not angsty in general and funny. Hehe. This was written for @demonangelimpala Castiel Being Human Challenge.

Also on A03

The laundromat. Humans thought of this place as a means to an end. You come in with dirty clothes and you come out with clean ones. You simply wash your clothes. Easy right? But when you’re an angel just turned human, these places are terrifying. What’s the etiquette? What do you wear? What do you say to others? Why do people look at you? And how do you deal with well, everything? Did they know what Castiel was and that he didn’t belong here? He heard that humans could be empathetic. Were they angelic spies or simply humans curious about him?

In hindsight, this whole plan might not have been the best idea. He hadn’t even asked you if he could do the laundry. He just took it from you. Cas wanted to surprise you for letting him stay with you when the boys turned him down. This was supposed to be a present for you so he couldn’t mess this up. He had assumed the whole process was simple. You explained it to him once when he was an angel but you were wearing shorts and a tank top at the time so his attention was elsewhere.

One quick glance around the room and he knew he had to take off his trench coat. No one was wearing a jacket here and it was quite hot. He had on a maroon sweatshirt, jeans and a blue shirt, all of which he stole from Dean. Was that not the right thing to wear? Was it too fancy? Some people were just in shorts and a tank top. He supposed he was fine dressed as he was.

Everyone else was with someone else though. This seemed to be a couple’s activity or a family one. He was a single attractive man doing laundry by himself. Eyebrows shot up when they saw him put in lacey bras and underwear. Castiel blushed as he quickly pushed them into an open washer, all the while feeling their gaze on him.

Castiel tried very hard not to imagine how your body would look in these. How full your breasts would be. He never saw you naked, but if these were under your clothes, he was rethinking his position on the matter. You considered him a friend, you were kind and always there for him. He refused to mess it up even if he did have a strong desire to be with you. You were the only loyal friend he had. He wasn’t sure when he fell in love with you but he’d been silently in love for what felt like centuries. To make everything more awkward, he became hard at the thought and tried to shift his pose this way and that when all eyes were on him again. Being hard in a laundromat seemed to be shameful.

He watched an old lady put in her clothes and mimicked her. Closing the door. The lady gave him an angry look; he didn’t know why. Was it weird to stare?

He then noticed that people were using quarters. He thought as much and emptied a mountain of change on the top of the washer. The question was which of these were the coins. The large one it seemed. And several large coins at that.

He heard groaning behind him and saw there was a large line forming behind him waiting for washers. They seemed to be mad. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t doing this deliberately; he was just new to washing clothes. He didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable but this was rather difficult to figure out. He had no practice washing anything when he could just snap his fingers and his grace did it for him. He felt bad for holding up everyone but he didn’t know what to do. He looked confused at the coins and watched as the woman next to him took the biggest one and slide it in along with several others and then pressed them in. He copied her. Good he took the coins out of the “Asshole Tax” which was basically a jar that had that on it. You called it a makeshift piggie bank. The thought of putting money in a pig was horrifying to Cas and he was happy the coins were in a plastic jar instead of a pig.

The money was in, the clothes were there, he was doing great but his face paled as he noticed that he had yet another choice to make. How many more choices were there? Did humans go to school to learn how to use this? Did they have instructions? Doing laundry was a minefield of tough decisions. What setting to use? What were the differences between the settings and why would one chose one over the other? Did something bad happen if you choose the wrong one?

He must have stared at the machine for several minutes. He didn’t want to let you down and the choice was a difficult and important one. What if he choose the wrong setting? Would the clothes still get washed? Would they get ruined? But the angry glares and murmurs intensified behind him. He had to pick a setting. There were lace bras here, so shouldn’t he do delicate? The bras looked delicate but the rest of the clothes weren’t delicate. Should he take them out and put the delicate ones in another washer? He’d have to wait on that line among all those judgmental humans. And that didn’t seem at all fun.

He refused to text you about this. He was human now and would learn how to do human things. Besides, you were on a hunt and he wasn’t going to endanger you to wash clothes. He decided to put it on delicate and stepped back pocketing the rest of the mountain of change. He cringed at the sound of it scraping on the top of the washer as he put it all carefully into his pocket.

He then grabbed the detergent and was carefully measuring it out. He couldn’t remember how much you said humans put in so he was going to play it safe and put just a little in. Just as he was pouring, kids ran behind him and he dumped a lot in as a result of being jostled.

He stared wide-eyed at the washer, Mouth agape in shock and horror. His hand pressed into the small window as he watched a mountain of soap go into the pile of clothes. He was bereft and strained his hands and wrist in vain, trying to open it. He banged on the window watching suds form.

Castiel turned around to glare at the kids who were using the laundromat like a playground. They seemed to be playing a game. They kept shouting out, “tag you’re it.” The kids proceeded to trip an old lady as she was getting to a washer, then stole a cart and started playing with it and even took people’s clothes out of it. The children's parents were nowhere to be seen for a good fifteen minutes and then it was all, “oh my boys didn’t do that.”

“Yes ma’am they did.” Castiel replied firmly.

“Don’t ma’am me.”

“I mean no disrespect. Quite the opposite but your sons were running around amok creating quite the disturbance. May I request that if you are not here to watch them, they should not be here alone?”

“Are you telling me how to raise my damn kids?!”

“No, I am just asking you to consider others.”

“Fuck you. You self-righteous prick. You’re lucky your clothes are still inside the washer ‘cause I would totally take them. What a nice red lace bra.”

“If you do so I will return with force.” Castiel threatened, his stance ready for a fight, his voice booming in the small laundromat. Castiel held the same gaze he had when he was a soldier as he stared the woman down. The woman was the first to break, avoiding eye-contact any further. She grabbed her kids and threw him a bitchy glare leaving promptly. Someone clapped him on the back. He tensed not knowing who the stranger was. Now Castiel understood personal bubbles.

“You’re a brave one. We’ve been trying to tell her off for ages. Thank you.”

The voice sounded sweet, the words sincere so slowly Castiel turned around. “I’m happy I could be of assistance.” He stated tentatively.

“First time here?”

“Is that obvious?” Castiel inquired, eyes on the ground.

“You spent two minutes staring at the machine and fretting over which setting to put it on. I’d say so. I’ll save your bacon so your girlfriend doesn’t get mad at you.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Castiel said all too quickly.

“But you want her to be?” She gently pushed.

“I figured as much ‘cause my boyfriend never does my wash.” She said with a chuckle. “Come on, now you gotta wait. Nothing more we can do. We’ll see if it’s messed up and then we’ll talk over what to do.”

“I am Castiel.”

“That’s a rare name. I would tell you mine but I don’t think your girlfriend would be happy. Women don’t usually like female friends hanging around or at least I wouldn’t judging by how hot you are. I would want to lock that down. I was never good at being just friends anyway so let’s just leave it here, in this moment. A kind woman helping a man in need.”

Castiel was confused but smiled back at her. She logic was confusing but seemed sound. She smiled softly at him encouraging a smile from him.

The washer dinged a few minutes later and she motioned her head towards it waving him over.

“This is where you would add more soap. But seeing as there is quite a lot maybe not. May I?” she asked. She took the detergent from Castiel and carefully added the tiniest amount. “There we go. Perfect.” She handed back Castiel’s detergent and grabbed her own, putting some soap into her washer and then sat back down with Castiel. She smiled towards him and tried to start a communication with the adorable, cute human.

“Have you lived here long?”

“No. I had a mission, a purpose and I was betrayed by a friend and I lost everything and now I’m here.”

“Very heavy for laundromat chatter.”

Castiel’s face dropped, “Oh forgive me. I don’t know the proper etiquette. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She shook her head, “Think nothing of it. It’s quite alright. I sensed you had a sad past. A grown man confused and panicking about laundry definitely has a story to it. I am sorry to hear about your friend. Anyone who could take advantage of a kind, trusting soul such as yourself is a horrible person and I hope karma gets him or her.”

“Karma? I do not know this person?”

“I can see why your soon-to-be girlfriend likes you. Karma isn’t a person. It’s an idea. That whatever someone does comes back to them.’

“I like that idea.”

“I thought you might.”

“Why are you here, if I can be so forward?”

“I asked you the same question. Of course turn it back around, fair play and all. I moved here, well at least for now. Me and my boyfriend are artists and very flighty people. We’re here because he got a great photography job and I might have my work in a gallery. This is our big break. Or I hope it is. I think we’re both over the starving artist thing.”

Castiel’s face changed from nervous to enthusiastic. She couldn’t help but laugh and smile fondly at him. The washer beeped and she sprung into action getting two metal carts and moving over to him. She ignored the looks, not caring what anyone thought of her.

“Okay so now the clothes are clean and now you have to get them into the dryer. Watch me and then you can copy.”

He nodded, grateful for the example. The woman put the metal cart under the washer, opened the door and grabbed the clothes, filling up the cart. He did the same. She glanced over at him smiling, waiting for him to finish.

“Okay, now you added a lot of soap so let’s see if it messed anything up. Do you mind?’

Castiel shook his head, “No.”

She touched the clothes looking for soap and finding none.

“Great okay, off to the dryers. You were lucky. See no soap anywhere here. And they smell amazing.”

Castiel blushed scarlet at that.

“If there was soap residue then all you would have to do, is do another wash, no soap, just put the quarters in, press ‘Delicate’ and let it go.”

Castiel nodded, committing that fact to memory.

She wheeled her cart and motioning with her head for Castiel to follow. “Just a note, usually the dryers on the ground aren’t that great because people really don’t use them much.”

“Why not?” he questioned.

“Don’t know maybe ‘cause it’s easier to reach up then bend down?”

Castiel thought about that for a second.

She added, “Hence they could be broken and then you wasted your money. So let’s pick two adjoining top dryers.”

Castiel nodded and put the clothes in just like she did.

She waited until he loaded everything in. “Okay, so now what setting? I would put it on the medium setting. It won’t damage sensitive clothes, meaning clothes made with sensitive fabrics, fabrics that would tear with intense washing or drying like that lace bra. The lowest setting may end up not drying the clothes all the way and then you get soppy clothes.”

Castiel smiled. He felt smart now that he knew about the correct settings and what to do here. This wasn’t so difficult after all. He dug into his pockets looking for the big coins. He held his hand out going through the coins to try and find the big ones. The woman just plucked them out of his hands and put them into the machine for him. She clapped him on the back. “There you go. Now all you have to do is wait for them to be ready. I’m going to get a quick bite. Today is a chore day for me so I’ll be running around. I would invite you but again I don’t want to blur lines. She’s a lucky girl and I’m lucky to be with Pete.”

That, Castiel understood, he nodded before continuing, “Thank you so much for helping me. Not everyone would.”

“No they wouldn’t. Humans as a general group aren’t the nicest, they can be greedy, judgmental and rather self-involved but occasionally you meet someone nice. To repay me, promise me that you’ll tell her the truth, that you’ll make her your girlfriend.”

Castiel blushed and looked down at the ground. She waited for his response, hands on her hips. Castiel finally met her gaze, “I promise.”

“Great. See you around maybe, cowboy.” She smiled at the confused look on Castiel’s face.

Castiel didn’t feel out of place anymore. He knew how to do laundry and

he felt like a part of the human race. He belonged here and no one could tell him otherwise. It was just a learning curve, he could do this. He waited, watching the small examples of humanity in the laundry room; observing and making notes before he took his clothes and went out into the sunlight, walking the few blocks back to your apartment. As soon as he got back, you sent him a text telling him that you’d be home soon. He smiled at the thought. He had missed you terribly this week. He was so happy he didn’t mess up the laundry. He made a promise to a woman, he was going to let you know how he felt tonight and make the rest of the day about you.

You came back home exhausted and relieved that you made it home alive to find your laundry in your drawers along with a chocolate box and the most adorable teddy that said, “I love you.” Castiel was waiting by the door for your reaction. He took in your confused look and got worried you didn’t feel the same way. But to his surprise you walked over to him and brought your lips to his. He responded back immediately. He moaned into the kiss, finally feeling your soft lips on his after all this time. It felt long overdue.

“I’ve love you too; since I first met you,” you confessed.

“I felt the same way,” he added.

“We’re idiots.”

“Fools in love, “ Cas clarified.

You smiled at that. “Thank you for doing the laundry.”

“Of course, anything to put a smile on your face.”

“Well, you know I just came from a long grueling hunt. Any ideas on how you can make me smile?” you inquired with a smirk.

“Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure.”

That was all the encouragement Cas needed. He dove onto the bed holding your body close to his as his lips pressed onto yours, needy and persistent. This was shaping up to be an amazing day. Cas wanted every day to be like today because if they were, he had nothing to worry about. He got this; he could be human in a heartbeat for you, his girlfriend.

Tagging

Forevers: @purgatoan, @killerofthesouth, @charliebradbury1104, @chaos-and-the-calm67, @chelsea072498, @everyday-supernatural-af, @kalliravenne, @toogardenenthusiast, @winchesterprincessbride, @one-shots-supernatural, @take-me-tonirvana, @hellsmother, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @faegal04, @deals-with-demons, @mamaredd123, @atc74, @hamartiamacguffin, @donnaintx, @love-kittykat21, @impala-dreamer, @evansrogerkitten, @lucifer-in-leather, @hiswickedkitty

Cas Peeps: @wayward-mirage, @faith-in-dean, @jesspfly, @webcricket, @manawhaat, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @notnaturalanahi, @bkwrm523, @whispersandwhiskerburn, @samsgoddess, @for-the-love-of-dean, @jelly-beans-and-gstrings, @fiveleaf, @deansleather, @whydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @idreamofhazel, @babypieandwhiskey, @wi-deangirl77, @deanwinchesterforpromqueen, @memariana91, @teamfreewill-imagine, @chelsea-winchester, @fandommaniacx, @writingbeautifulmen@oldfashioncdvillain, @castieltrash1, @ohwritever, @mysaintsasinner @marasficrecs, @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell, @winchester-writes, @deals-with-demons, @maraisabellegrey, @winchestersmolder, @clueless-gold, @vintagevalentinexx, @theficlibrarium, @itsemmyb, @beriala, @charliesbackbitches, @crzcorgi. @deerlululucy, @walkingencyclopediaoffandom, @growleytria, @thegleegeneration, @samtomydeanwinchester, @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @i-never-said-a-pilot, @thewinchestielboys, @supermoonpanda, @sis-tafics, @amaranthinecastiel, @fandommaniacx, @meganwinchester1999, @kittenofdoomage, @ferferelli, @lilyoflothlorien, @iridianuniverse, @the-morning-star-falls, @ackleslaugh, @noisilyyoungpuppy, @fangirling-instead-of-working, @chrisatplay, @bkwrm523, @faith-in-dean, @mamaimpala, @for-the-love-of-dean. @winchesterfiesta, @sleep-silent-angel, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @gadreelsforbiddenfruit, @trenchcoats-and-bees, @curliesallovertheplace, @jencharlan, @not-so-natural-spn, @skybinx-blog, @thebunkerismyhome, @feelmyroarrrr, @winchesters-princess, @beachy2014, @fandom-book-nerd, @katnharper, @impossible-box, @tia58, @castiels-forbidden-angel, @sunriserose1023, @winchesterswoonathon, @jotink78, @notnaturalanahi, @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave, @babypieandwhiskey, @mysaintsasinner, @besslincoln-bruh, @wheresthekillswitch, @shelovesallthethings, @revwinchester, @pinknerdpanda, @quiddy-writes, @inmysparetime0, @hexparker, @alangel1895, @amanda-teaches, @emilywritesaboutdean

95 notes · View notes