#I COULD WRAP MYSELF UP BURRITO STYLE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bukojuiice · 3 years

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my world is changed and it’s cradled by the comfort that is you.

ೃ pairing: (third year! katsuki bakugo x third year! fem reader)

ೃ warnings: cursing c/o of katsuki bakugo

ೃ genre: fluff overload and bakugo tryna comfort you in the most “katsuki bakugo” way possible

ೃ word count: 1,189 words

ೃ my ongoing bakugo x reader smau and my writing masterlist (if you want to see more from me! c:)

ೃ this is very very self-indulgent. channeling your frustrations and turning it into some good ol fluff is the best remedy. i am very proud to say that i had so so much fun writing this. hope you enjoy reading it too!!

ೃ song inspo: home by reese lansangan

ೃ After receiving a quarterly report on the status of your hero internships and as a 3rd year student of UA Academy, your day is ruined as soon as you began to read it’s contents. Your explosive boyfriend does not want to see you like this. But how can he possibly cheer you up?

You weren't feeling well.

Not in a "Oh no I'm sick! I'm going to be bedridden the entire day!" It was more of a "I hate everything about myself and half of UA Academy's Third Years seems to think so, too".

It was torture for Katsuki Bakugo to see his girlfriend like this, who only actually got up to go to the bathroom and even then she looked absolutely sad. Not even acknowledging her classmates who she passed by all the way to the bathrooms. Katsuki knew he had to get (Y/N) out of bed and do something fun and enlightening or something to make her feel a little bit better...

That's the problem though. He has no idea how to. With how he tends to act most of the time; (aka his explosive and hot-headed antics for a lack of a better word) trying to be a soft and comforting boyfriend was a foreign concept to him.

But... he had to find a way.

This is for your sake after all. He doesn't want to see you looking like this again. Rather, this is the first time he's seen you look like you're drowning in endless sorrow and... it was not a happy sight.

Your sunny and bubbly disposition in contrast to his rough and proud nature, was one of the many reasons why he fell for you in the first place. (A point he has yet to admit to his family and friends but he's getting there) You were the sun to his moon, and the sky was your love. An excerpt from the poem you dedicated to him for your 1st year anniversary. He found it cheesy as hell but it had a special place in his heart. No one had ever done something like that for him after all.

Bakugo knocks on the door of your dorm room before walking in, frowning and scrunching his nose at the sight of his girlfriend sulking and wrapped around her blanket in a style of a blanket-burrito.

"Hey." You jump a little in your little burrito and your lips don't even quirk at seeing your spiky haired boyfriend. Which is unusual because as far as Bakugo is aware, you show him your most brightest smile and say your most loving words whenever you see him enter your room.

"Hi." You mumble slipping in further, burying your face on your pillow. Katsuki sighs and sits next to you on the bed. He moves some strands of hair from your eyes and pouts. You glance at him and huff, eyes still red though your lips are quirking up. "Don't pout and get mad at me Suki-kun. You know how much that makes me weak. I'm not really in the mood to argue with you."

Katsuki scoffs in a rather playful and affectionate way as he lays on top of you making you squeal. "Katsuki! I can't breathe! Please!" You giggle, your face turning beet red. Your thoughts battling each other as you don't know whether or not to savor the moment or to go back to your sad thoughts. "Not until you stop sulking like a fucking weirdo." You wriggle around and manage to get your arms free so you could shove him off lightly. "I am really not in the mood Suki. I mean it." You say giggling still. Bakugo continues to give you an unimpressed look, his brows furrowing, as he pecks your cheek.

"You okay? On a scale of 1 to 10 how much do you feel like shit?" He says in a rather more gentle and polite manner this time. You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. "Could be better. I feel like shit times infinity." Bakugo grunts, as he hesitantly interlaces your fingers together. You shiver at the touch of his hand with yours. Your cold fingers interlacing with the heat emanating from his. It felt weird yet comforting.

"What the hell happened? If this is because of either Monoma or Mineta again, I'm going to beat them to a fucking pulp-" You shake your head rapidly, pulling away to grab a copy of the Third year student rankings and then placing it on Katsuki's lap, lying back down and sighing loudly.

Katsuki looks at the paper you had placed on his hands, and sees a stupid remark about your hero internships. Saying something along the lines of you and your quirk not being good enough, especially during battle-oriented situations. Another critique went far as to say that your quirk is useless and that you don't deserve to even be studying at UA at all. Katsuki clicks his tongue, crumpling the piece of paper and shooting it in the trash can. He sighs heavily, laying down next to you.

"(Y/N." Katsuki begins, "Are you really listening and or putting these shitty fucking critiques to heart? (Y/N) you're better than this."

You sniff and shrug. "I don't know. I guess I should. These statements are coming from the general public after all. The people who watch our every move."

Katsuki sighs and brings you close to hug him, kissing your forehead. "You're more than that, okay? You may act like a dumbass sometimes, but you've got a lot of heart and that's what's important." You shrug once again. Your eyes widen when Katsuki lifts you up, and positions you on his lap. You sit comfortably with his face inches from yours, and his strong arms wrapped around you. You look away, trying to hide the half-hearted smile forming on your face.

It was a gesture of affection you rarely see from him and if the circumstances were any different right now, you most probably would have been screaming internally and your face would be flushing a shade of red you have never seen before. You most probably would have d worded from embarrassment too.

"Listen... fuck what other people think. People shouldn't judge you on what makes you happy and what makes you special, especially as a hero. You are worth more than they made you think." He pecks your lips and touches his forehead with yours. "You saw something different in me. You still tried to be my friend even though I looked down on everyone and acted like a pompous ass every single day. Yet you still saw the good in me. You loved and accepted my flaws that I despised with a burning passion. Now it's time for people to find the good in you too. No matter how long and how hard it takes." You nod bringing yours lips to meet Bakugo's. He smiles into the kiss and you wraps your arms around his waist, pulling him flush against you, burrito blanket and all.

"Thanks for that reminder." You whisper, kissing Katsuki's nose. Katsuki mumbles softly and kisses you again. And again. And again. And again until you're giggling like a little girl against his lips. "Tch. Any time." He replies annoyingly.

You smile as the two of you look at each other with nothing but love in your eyes.

and from then and there, he doesn't mind doing anything else for the rest of the day.

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rohobi · 3 years

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Serendipity 11 | (M)

Story Description: After you reveal your inexperienced sexual status to your best friend, Jungkook grapples with the news, startled by the idea that the girl he always thought could get anyone, is a virgin. After finding his porn at 3AM, you decide that maybe it’s about time to stain the white sheets of your world with the colors of a forbidden fruit Jungkook seems to have in the palm of his hands. Pairing— jeon jungkook x reader, friendwithbenefitsAU Genre/warnings— smut, fluff, slight angst, swearing words—5,169 ↳ 10 ← CHAPTERS → CHAPTER 12

Previously on Serendipity:

"I can't do this. I can't hold myself back anymore. I'm getting jealous. I want to have you around all the time. I want you to study with me. I want you to call me in the morning and before you go to bed. I want to hold your hand when we walk around campus. I want people to know that you're mine and that I'm yours. I want to kiss you. I want to fuck you. I want to hold you as you cum. I want all of it. "

You're confused. "What? Jungkook, I-

He presses his hand up against your mouth.

"I don't like this uncertainty of who I am to you, I'm creating a boundary right here and I want it around us," He releases his finger to let you respond, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

* * *

You're hiding behind a burrito.

It's important to state that you are not physically hiding behind the burrito, you're shoving it in your mouth and hoping your emotions of excitement and fear are hiding behind it. You see, you thought you were his girlfriend already, it just kind of felt like you were.

And to everyone else, he was your boyfriend too.

No one crossed the line between us, no one dared to.

Jungkook knows the answer is yes. Of course, you'd be his girlfriend but you're in love with torturing him with silence and this is the best meal you've had in a while. Grilled chicken is the best.

Jungkook wishes you'd just grill him instead.

"Y/N, come on," He leans back into his chair. Crossing his arms over his chest. "You haven't answered my question yet. Do you not want to be my girlfriend? Because I'm happy to leave this table right now and not come back."

Shaking your head, you take a sip from your drink before replying. "I told you that I was going to eat before answering it."

"I'm going to be real with you, I don't think I can handle just being friends with you anymore. I'm so possessive and obsessed with you, like in a healthy way but like, come on, be my girl," Jungkook leans over the table, appearing more desperate as you finish your burrito. "And, you're moaning over a burrito and it's making me feel things, say yes so we can get out of here and feel each other instead."

He winks, his mouth forming a charming shit grin.

You frown. "If you want to date me for sex, go burrow a hole in your mattress, I'm a whole ass person."

"The hole in my mattress isn't as nice as you." Jungkook licks his lips and fiddles with the rings on his fingers. "Can't suck my dick either."

"How romantic Jungkook?"

"Never mind that," Reaching over to your chair, he pulls you close, dragging the chair against the concrete so he can wrap his arm around you. "You're torturing me, I don't appreciate that little miss. Do I need to give you some time to think about it or something, I don't mind leaving you to think?"

"No, I don't need to think about it. I'll be your girlfriend Jungkook but there are things we need to talk about regarding our relationship."

Jungkook stands immediately, putting his hands up in surrender. "I refuse to keep this a secret, I'm dating your whole life so you gotta tell your friends and family and pillows."

"I think I might be dating an overthinker," He looks worried so you smile in reassurance, "I meant, boundaries and communication styles. Normal people things."

"I have no idea what you need to discuss," Jungkook sits back down, scooting close to you. "I respect and value you. Communication is important but I don't think we need to discuss boundaries unless there's something I haven't been doing up till now that you'd like me to?"

"Where do I begin," Jungkook is gazing at you attentively, waiting for you to speak up. "Jungkook, you have a problem with closing things. You leave doors open and you leave toilet seats up, you leave curtains open and you leave porn tabs open. Please be mindful of our privacy."

His mouth forms the "o" shape.

"Not to mention, when you have a deadline, you don't tell me and then you seen me without replying for HOURS," you poke his bicep. "When you're drawing your assignments, let me know when you'll be offline so I don't wait for you to give me attention. It's very distracting."

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize," Jungkook smiles thoughtfully. "Thank you for telling me, I'll be sure to send you pictures of me working so you know. Anything else?"

You shake your head. "Just remember to communicate with me and I'll do my best to communicate with you.

Jungkook grins. "Of course, you're my girlfriend after all."

Girlfriend Your cheeks heat up at the new title. "Anyway, that's all I have to say. Pass me my bag. I gotta go to class."

Jungkook looks dumbfounded. "What? You're going instead of celebrating with me?"

You nod. "I have class."

Pouting he whispers, "But... babe-

"-are you going to call me babe from now on?" You smirk, watching him blush.

"Do you not want me to? What do you want me to call you? beautiful or honey or baby or bitch?"

"My name is okay," You poke his forehead. "Whatever feels natural Jungkook, you don't have to call me babe straight off the bandwagon."

"Too bad, I'm babe-ing you up. Gotta let the hoes know you're mine," Jungkook wraps his arms around you, kissing your cheek. The heat makes you tingle and your heart flutter. Leaning into your ear, he whispers. "Although, I do like love as a pet name. I always imagined calling you my love, it just feels right. How does it sound, my love?"

You close your eyes, the feeling of his closeness so lovely and warm. Placing your hand on his thigh, you turn your face to his. "It sounds ...nice."

Jungkook peers at you with shiny warm eyes, his gaze lowering to your lips. "Would it be too much if I gave you a kiss?"

A soft laugh escapes your lips. "How else will we stamp our agreement of a relationship."

"I'm glad you said yes, I'm so happy, my heart is so happy, you make me so happy," his voice softens and it doesn't matter that you're in the middle of the uni cafeteria because it feels like you and Jungkook have the entire room to yourselves. "Thank you Y/N."

Jungkook leans forward, his nose grazing against your face before his soft lips touch yours. He drops an arm from around you to place his palm comfortably on the nape of your neck.

The warmth of his hand on your neck calms the raging butterflies in your stomach. It's a soft kiss full of promise and love, nothing quite like the passionate one you had exchanged earlier.

"I'll take care of you Y/N." he whispers and you swallow, feeling your heart rate spike from the genuine kindness.

"And I'll take care of you too," you promise, reaching your hand up to caress his jaw. "I don't want to ruin the moment or anything but you're so hot, what the hell, I'm so lucky."

He laughs again, tangible happiness roped around you. "You're my biggest cheerleader."

You gasp, pushing yourself off him. "That better not be a fat joke, Jungkook. I swear to god, I like you but I'll throw hands."

Jungkook launches forward to kiss you again. There's no doubt in your mind that this kiss was just to shut you up. A tactic you warmly embrace.

The first and second kiss of us.

And it was nice. Jungkook is nice.

#bts fanfic #bts #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook friends with benefits #bts friends turned to lovers #its snowing right now and im bored #bangtan boys #bangtan scenarios #Bangtan imagines #bts fiction #bts fanfiction #bts ff

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thesolotomyhan · 3 years

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ramon arellano felix as a dad would include

a/n: heyy mis carinos youre favorite clown is back with something none of you guys asked yet here i am sharing this with you all i was soft but also because i havent written anything for my arellano boys in a minute and i got inspired wow anyways i hope you guys enjoy my desmadre

taglist: @fandomnerd16 @visintaes @sheeshgivemeabreak @artemiseamoon @umvirgo @redhairedace

let me know if you want to be tagged!

ok right off i want to mention ME MUERO imagining ramon with the mini versions of himself

like he would be the fun dad thats always playing with his kids and always wanting to be around them constantly :(

but also my heart hurts imagining this ball of emotions being so happy about having kids with you

like i cant with the thought of him in the very moment you tell him youre pregnant-

like this soft ass moment where hes just in disbelief,, holding your face- “embarazada? de verdad princesa?”

i just- him being so excited,, wanting to hear you say it again and again before he picks you up from so much excitement :((

wow would not even hold back before hes already walking you both over to announce it to all his siblings :(

and like enedina would be the most excited because you know she would :( and i just have a feeling dina is going to go all the fucking way to be the consentida aunt :((

wow? um she definitely gives me the vibes of her always being around you to make sure your ok,, making sure you and her little niece/nephew have everything available to you within arms reach-

because she adores you with mon :(

but also ramon being constantly worried about you when hes not with you even tho he knows youre the safest person breathing in mexico

and because he knows dina is there with you all the time puts him a little at ease-

like omg if something,, even the slightest look,, happens to you or your kid, he would shoot up all of tijuana becasue no one touches his familia- his overprotectiveness goes through the roof- i

i am crying at the thought of him always kneeling down and talking to your stomach,, like that is a daily thing he does all the time-

like :(( imagine him doing it right after you told him your pregnant or something :( i-

no but also because the very fucking moment he knew about his kids existence in you,, he would give up his crack usage :/

todo porque he wants to be the best dad figure for his kids :((

like he vows to that shit even more once he had his kid in his arms- excuse me let me go cry,,

im sorry this is supposed to be a dad hc yall im starting to get carried away-

BUt WOw i cant even explain the way i go soft imagining this cabron as a dad with his kids :((

because you know what i thought of that first came to mind?

UM NIEVE DATES WITH HIS KIDS ANYONE???

where he for sure would always give into them whenever they ask if they can get some ice cream for breakfast or something-

he would probably have his kids pinky promise to him to not tell you anything about skipping meals just to have an ice cream cone :((

and like having them happily eating their ice cream while he picks them up and sets them on his hip :((((

i am sorry,, but you cannot tell me park visits are not a thing right after having ice cream:(

like the thought of him pushing his kids on the swing set :(( or going on the slide with them is breaking my heart- :((

but ramon also being extra af with protectiveness with his kids :(

like him making sure everything and anything that could hurt his kids in anyway,, hes moving his kids away from them-

:(would make sure his mens guns and his own guns are away from his kids sights-

and moving a whole bunch of dangerous things away like in hard to reach places so his babies dont even get the glimpse of danger :((

all because he would never forgive himself if something he could have prevented hurts his ninos :(wow

:((((( AH he would love styling his kids hair all the TIME

omg i fucking cant at the thought of him having a daughter and loving to braid or putting his daughters hair in these little pigtails??? :(((

like him sitting her on his lap in the morning,, the both of them watching some kids show on the tv as hes just gently as fucking possible brushing her hair out :((( why do i do this to my s e lf

and he would like,, give her a little kiss to his ninas head like “mi princesa hermosa,, la mas guapa de la casa” :( WOW

or if he has a son,, the mini fucking version of him and dressing him up in those pinshis camisas :((

im just- holding in my tears imagining ramon being the dad that would love to bathe his kids :((

and like him having all these toys for them too,, playing with them all the time just to make his kids laugh-

fuckk- he would definitely do that cute shit where he would gather bath bubbles in his hands and place them on top of his kids hair :(( no one look at me

him def being the dad to like,, burrito wrap his kids in towels after their baths :(( carrying them around the house while they dry :(((

bro? picking out their clothes?? for them to wear?? because he has style??? :((((( im sorry

would always be seen walking around with his kids sitting on top of his shoulders when theyre old enough-

like my mon is a toll bby and his kids love getting upsies from him beacuse of that :(

wow would this one loving blowing all his fucking money if it means his kids have the best birthday party in all of mexico even if its like their first birthday loL

just christmas and birthdays especially being a mf highlight for him because he buys so much presents for them to have

decorating the house from top to bottom,, every year it’s somehow better than the last-

ok but also him buying everything and anything for his kids when he’s out with them

like before his kid even finishes their sentence that they want some car toy on the shelf

his ass is already shoving it into the cart because his little angels will get ANYTHING their little hearts desire ok?

i laugh because you probably scold him at times that he’s spoiling them too much

but he’s always on defense like “mi amor,, dime como les puedo decir que no a estas caritas preciosas????” :(( like low key tho he loves consintiendo his kids because he cant help it :(

oh my god??? you know what just attacked my mind that it made me start bawling??

the fact that mi ramon would love dancing nortenas with his kid/ daughter :((((((((

OR THE FACT THAT HE WOuld love taking you to bailes-

dancing with you all pegaditos to banda or nortenas,,, tu by los elegantes de jerez anyone??

AND HAVING HIS FUCKING KID IN BETWEEN THE TWO OF YOU :(((

im definitely not in the club crying my soul out at the thought of him kissing the top of his kids head and then you-

his stupid smile and heart eyes as he leans his forehead on yours and tells you “como te adoro princesa, por darme la mejor bendicion de mi vida” :(( someone pls come hug me

no :( i swear all i do is hurt myself because get this-

like do you guys remember when miguel angel killed off mi amor gueritos family?? holy shit could you imagine the way ramon would go fucking frantic to make sure that doesnt happen to his own family :(((

i kid you not he would go through anything to make sure you and his kids dont even get a single little piece of hair touched-

like im almost positive ,, family man ramon would fucking THREATEN to the max if miguel angel even looks or breathes in tijuanas direction-

wOW like when all the plazas got together and left in s2

and miguel angel saying some shit like “con cuidadito eh,, dicen que en tijuana anda bien peligroso,, no quiero que nada le pasa a esa hermosa familia que tienes, ramon”- ALL FUCKI NG SMUG WHILE MIGUEL THREATEN S HIM AND THE TJ BOYS FOR LEAVNI G-

good god- and ramon not hesitating for a second to try and pull his gun out,, all heated- im sorry for bringing that thought up

but overall just such a soft, overprotective family dad whos always going to be there making you and his kids as happy as possible :((

#narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico imagines #ramon arellano felix x reader #ramon arellano felix #narcos mexico #narcos: mexico

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moonlitceleste · 3 years

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dream of you (ch 1)

Marinette and Jason are soulmates… except according to them and everyone else, they’re not.

A/N: I’m so excited to be posting this, because it’s actually the first Maribat idea I ever had! I started writing it 10 months ago in the form of a one-shot, but I struggled a lot because I was putting too much pressure on myself to finish it all at once. I finally decided to break it into chapters, and I’m so so excited! I hope you guys will be too :D I based this chapter on what I originally wrote and just edited a bit, so it’s a little choppy because my writing style has changed quite a bit. It’ll get better soon, so don't worry!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Jason Todd first met in a dream.

She was ten years of age when it happened, still young and small and fresh-faced.

Her parents tucked her into bed that fateful night, pulling the fluffy pink covers over her body before leaving a goodnight kiss on her brow.

Marinette closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into the soft material with a smile on her face; it was one of the few times they were home, and she made sure to cherish every moment.

The door closed with a quiet click only moments later, after which she yawned and stretched her short arms in the air before wrapping them around her black cat plushie.

Content in the safety of her burrito blanket she nestled down further, breaths evening out into a slow, steady pace as she seamlessly drifted off into sleep.

After what felt like a night’s rest but was actually seconds after falling into unconsciousness, Marinette opened her eyes and blinked blearily. Her vision blurred as she sat up and stretched, drowsiness and lethargy slowing each movement.

It wasn’t until she opened her eyes once more that she realized she was no longer in her room.

Rather than pink-painted walls, she was met with what looked like an endless expanse of stars, scattered and strewn as far as the eye could see. It was as if someone had sprinkled fairy dust from the heavens, like diamond fragments that rained down before being suspended in midair.

Most would react with fear upon finding themselves in an unfamiliar destination, but Marinette was much too awestruck to consider it an option.

The sight was spellbinding, so much so that she barely paid attention to the green blades tickling her legs.

The sky was a pitch-black veil, the darkness assuaged only from the light of the brilliant full moon and twinkling stars. They flickered invitingly, winking at her in a playful manner.

They looked close enough to touch, as if she could simply pluck one from the sky; Marinette reached out in wonder, just barely able to make out the outline of her hand in the darkness.

Despite being somewhere completely foreign, she felt an odd sense of familiarity and contentedness settle into her bones and warm her chest. It felt right.

She lowered herself back into the lush grass, legs splayed before her and arms propped behind. With her head tilted up at the sky, she closed her eyes and let herself relish in the sensation of the warm breeze ruffling her hair.

Marinette didn’t know how long she had been sitting there before she finally looked up. It was on sudden impulse; she swore she could feel someone’s presence beside her, like the tingling sensation one felt when another’s gaze was on them.

Her instinct proved to be right, because only seconds later, she caught sight of a shadowed figure slumped in the grass a few feet from her.

The moon illuminated the person’s face enough that she could just barely discern their features; it was a boy, who appeared to be in deep slumber judging by the steady rhythm of his rising and falling chest.

Long, dark lashes framed his closed eyes, and his fair skin glowed luminously under the moonlight. Silky strands of hair brushed against his forehead, ruffling slightly in the wind; Marinette’s juvenile curiosity made her want to reach out and shake him awake, but the serene expression on his face stopped her as her hand was only mere inches from his shoulder.

Scooting some distance away, she opted to lay spread eagle on the grass with her hands beneath her head and closed her eyes as if she were soaking up the moonlight.

She could always wait for the strange boy to wake up—right now, she had all the time in the world.

Unbeknownst to her, the person beside her began to stir.

☁️

Jason blinked open his eyes and let out a low groan, fully prepared for the full force of Gotham winter to hit him as soon as he came back into consciousness.

But as his hands pushed himself up, he soon noticed the soft ground underneath him, so unlike the hard concrete of the streets he slept on every night

He sat up abruptly at this realization.

Something was wrong.

This time of year, he never woke up without feeling the brutal chill that froze his limbs over and made his teeth chatter.

He never woke up with a full stomach, or with the feeling of calmness that was currently overtaking his senses.

Everything felt right, and it did nothing but disconcert him. Nothing in Jason’s life ever went right.

His eyes darted around the strange place cautiously, taking in the view; part of him wanted to sit and stare at the twinkling stars in awe, but he forced the juvenile desire down. He couldn’t afford to get distracted.

He was in the middle of quickly assessing his immediate surroundings when a quiet gasp broke the bubble of tranquility around him.

Before he knew it he had shifted into a fighting stance, and he whipped around to see a figure sitting on the grass a short distance away.

His entire body tensed at the bluebell eyes staring back at him in shock; they belonged to a girl with short black hair, seemingly a few years younger than him, whose lips were open in an “o” shape.

Jason’s brain urged him to move, to do something, but his body refused to obey. It was as if time had frozen him in that stance, rendering him incapable.

The trance was broken as the girl scrambled to her hands and knees and stood, eyes shining with wonderment.

The next words, spoken in a breathless voice, were written in the stars.

“You’re my soulmate.”

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior *@bluesimani @enternalempires @flower-girll @freesportspalacesalad @glastwime859 @h1sss @heart-charming @jalaluvsu @kitsunebell @maskedpainter @moongoddesskiana @nathleigh *@no-username2544 @too0bsessedformyowngood

#celestewrites #maribat #jasonette #soulmate au #cel's fics

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itsallyscorner · 4 years

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Hi Ally! Can I request a seb x reader with an age gap where the reader is sick all the time and he's always taking cara of her doing everything in his power to make her feel better? Only if you're up for it. Thank youuu

Hellooo lovely! Thank you sm for the request, I appreciate it! Sick fics make me so soft, I have no idea why. I hope you like it!🥰

💌.

Doctor Stan

You had the worse immune system ever. You were healthy but when it came to your body defending yourself from a fever or the flu, your immune system was out the door. Literally everyone who knows you knew you were bound to get sick at any moment. Whether it was catching a fever, some sniffles, or a sore throat, you were going to catch something. Knowing that you could easily catch a cold, your friends and family were very protective and caring towards you. Especially your other half, Sebastian.

Even since you guys started dating, Sebastian was always there to take care of you. From staying over at your house to helping you go to the bathroom, he did everything in his power to make you feel better.

It started off as a sniffle. Did you think it would get worse? No, but knowing you, you should have. Earlier that day you and Sebastian decided to have breakfast at a cafe near your apartment and ended up going to Central Park for a nice stroll and some sightseeing. The weather was nice so instead of wearing a jacket you pulled on a light cardigan. When you guys got back home you decided to take a nap, tired from your guys’ morning outing.

You woke up with a pounding headache. You moved to stretch your body out but stopped when you felt your limbs aching. Turning over to check the time on your phone, you felt a cold shiver run down your spine as the covers slid down your back. Groaning, you realized that the sheets were moist with your sweat. Feeling disgusted with yourself, you moved to sit up so you can change into something more comfier.

“Baby, you’re up! I was thinking that we should go out for dinner tonight since the weather is—,” Sebastian stopped talking as soon as he saw you slouching on the bed rubbing your temples.

“Oh, honey. I told you to wear a jacket instead of that cardigan.” He softly scolded as he approached the bed to kneel in front of you. Looking up at you he could see a pout on your lips and your nose was scrunched up. He found your disheveled state adorable even if you were sick and had bed head.

“I know, but I thought my body could’ve taken it.” You grumbled as you wrapped your arms around you to stop the shivering. Sebastian immediately noticed and began to run his hands on your arms to generate some heat.

“Were you going to change?” He asked as he continued his motions. You nodded and moved to get up but was gently pushed back onto the bed by him.

“Stay here. I’ll get you some of my clothes and a rag to wipe you down.” He explained before pressing a kiss to your warm temple. Sebastian was already used to you getting sick and knew there was a routine. For comfort, one of the things you always wanted were his clothes. An oversized shirt and one of his sweatpants did the job with a pair of fluffy socks. He also wiped your body down with a rag to keep you warm and clean you up. The rag thing was something his mother used to do when he was sick and he remembered that he would somewhat feel a bit better after it. He also remembers your mom mentioning it when he asked her about ways he can help you when you were sick.

After he got some of his clothes out and a wet rag from the bathroom he found you cuddling his pillow and sleeping again. A small smile makes it way onto his lips but then he remembers the task at hand. He didn’t want to wake you up so he carefully wiped your forehead with the rag. He continues to remove your clothes, being careful to not expose your skin to the air so much. He moves quickly and soon you’re dressed in his clothes.

“We should tie your hair up.” He hums to himself as he goes through the nightstand for a hair tie. He grabs a comb and gently brushes your hair away from your face, gathering it together in a low pony. The action caused you to stir in your sleep.

“Sebby.” You whined nuzzling your cheek against his palm. Sebastian lovingly smiles down at you and runs his thumb across your cheek.

“Don’t worry înger, I got you.” He assured you as he strokes circles onto your back. His actions causing you to doze back to sleep.

“Thank you, Seb. I’m sorry I have a bad immune system.” He hears you mumble. Sebastian hates to see you sick, he doesn’t like that fact that you’re in pain and he can’t do anything but just try to mitigate your sickness. Though, he enjoys taking care of you and kind of babying you. He’s noticed that whenever you’re sick, you’re more needy towards him. For example, wanting to be held or just having him near you.

At first you weren’t comfortable cuddling him when you were sick because you didn’t want him to catch anything but he kept on insisting that he wants to cuddle.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I’ll do this for you any day.” He pressed a kiss to your palm, you hand had lazily made its way to run through his hair and rest on his cheek.

“Always?”

“Always.”

Sebastian then picked you up bridal style and carried you out the room. You two ended up in the living room. Before you can settle down, he sat you on the couch and went to the closet. He pulled out a big and fluffy blanket and two pillows. He laid the pillows against the arm of the couch while you moved to settle against them.

“Comfy?” He asked before throwing the blanket over you. You wiggled a bit to make yourself comfortable against the pillows.

“Comfy.” You confirm with a slight nod. Sebastian proceeds to pull the blanket on top of you and makes sure to tuck you in like a burrito.

“I’m going to make some soup. Here’s the remote, turn some Netflix on or whatever, and just relax.” He hands you the remote and kisses your head. He makes his way to the kitchen and begins to prepare some soup for you. He got the recipe from your mother during one of your worse fevers. He was panicking most of the time and ended up calling your mom for help. She suggested making the soup and sent him the recipe. Till this day, the recipe was still in his notes on his phone. He’s memorized it but still referenced back to it every now and then to make sure he made it correctly.

While the soup was cooking he decided to throw the dirty sheets from the bed into the washer. He then replaced them with fresh sheets from the closet. He made the bed and walked back out to see you were watching Harry Potter.

“Is that Prisoner of Azkaban?” He asked as he leaned over the couch.

“Yup, want me to pause it so you can catch up?” You ask groggily.

“Mm, sure. The soup should be ready.” He says as he walks into the kitchen.

“Wait! Sebba can you get my phone? I think I left it in the bedroom?” Knowing you were going to ask for your phone, he fishes it out of the pocket of his sweatpants. “Here ya go.”

You thank him before he leaves the room. He turns the heat off the stove and gets a bowl for the soup. He gets a tray to put the bowl of soup on. Along with the soup he has a pack of crackers and a Gatorade. Since you get sick so often, you guys always had a stock of Gatorade in the fridge.

Sebastian returns with the tray and sets it on the coffee table. He helps you sit up properly, adjusting the pillows and blanket so they wouldn’t bother you. You press play on the remote resuming the movie. Sebastian sits on the edge of the couch beside your legs. He gets the soup and scoops some of it on the spoon.

“Seb, I can feed myself, you’ve done enough for me already.” You protest.

“No, I refuse to let you feed yourself. Plus the bowl might slip and I know we both don’t want a repeat of last time.” He reminded you. Last time you tried to feed yourself while you were sick, the bowl slipped from your hands causing the soup to spill all over you and the couch. You suffered from another headache and burning thighs, making your fever worse.

“Here comes the airplane.” He teases a cheeky grin on his face as he holds the spoon up to your face. You stifle a giggle and open your mouth. He had the bowl beneath your mouth to avoid any liquids falling onto you.

“Wow, you’ve really got that recipe down.” You complimented him after you took a sip of the soup.

“I had lots of practice. Thank your mom because if she never had sent me that recipe you’d be eating packaged soup.” He cringed as he continued to feed you.

“You know, she’d be proud that you’ve mastered the recipe.” You start. “Wanna know a fun fact about it?”

“The soup?” He asked, you hummed in response. He motioned for you to continue.

“The recipe’s been passed down for generations in my family. You’re the only person who isn’t blood related to us that knows it.” She stated. Sebastian settled the spoon in the bowl and looked at you.

“Really?” He asked a surprised look on his face. You nodded.

“Well, I’m honored to be part of something so important to your family. Thank you, iubirea mea. It really means a lot.” He confesses as he gazes into your eyes. You lovingly smile at him as he goes back to feeding you soup, though a smile was permanently on his lips the entire night.

The day ended in cuddles on the couch. After you ate and fully digested your food, Seb helped you to the bathroom. You guys settled on the couch for the night, Sebastian’s head on your chest as he wrapped his arms around your torso, limbs tangled with each other. You guys took turns sleeping as the movie played.

It was during Order of The Phoenix when you realized that Sebastian was your person. His head resting on your stomach as he softly snored against it. Your hands were tangled in his hair while you admired the relaxed state he was in. Sebastian did so much for you, not just when you were sick but in general. Whether it be something simple or something grand, he did it with his whole heart and because he genuinely cared. You knew he’d move mountains for you and you’d do the same for him. And when the time comes you’d be ready to take care of him just as much as he took care of you.

Înger ~ angel

Iubirea mea ~ my love

#ally’s requests #marvel #mcu #avengers #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan headcanons #sebastian stan drabble #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastan stan #Bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel cast x reader

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noona-clock · 4 years

Text

Traveling Love (Collab) - Part 4, Final Chapter

Genre: Fluffy/Romantic AU

Pairing: Nam Joo Hyuk x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, Masterlist | Words: 2,094

A/N: Welcome to the third series in the monthly Love In Fours Ways collab with myself, @jackiejacks923 @prettywordsyouleft & @this-song-thats-only-for-you . We have all taken inspiration from 4 illustrations (linked below), and during the last week of the month, we will each be sharing a 4-part mini-series based on those drawings.

Credit to: Puuung - Love Is In The Small Things

Part 4: Tucking Her into a Perfect Sleeping Burrito

You’d never experienced the feeling of Post-Vacation Blues quite as acutely as you were now.

When you’d planned this trip over the last several weeks, you’d had a feeling it was going to be wonderful -- not only because your destination had too many fun and exciting things to do and see and visit and eat, but because you were going with someone you loved. Plus, Joo Hyuk had really needed this vacation.

But you hadn’t been prepared for just how wonderful.

If you could’ve designed your perfect vacation with no limitations, it wouldn’t have been as perfect as the one you’d just taken with Joo Hyuk. You had absolutely never been on a trip like it, and you would absolutely never go on another trip like it again.

It’s not like you did anything extremely special or note-worthy; you explored the city, you took pictures, you ate delicious food, you saw beautiful scenery. Very typical vacation stuff!

Something about it had just been... special, and no amount of money or planning would ever be able to recreate this past week.

...However.

And you were very reluctant to admit this however, and you certainly wouldn’t admit it out loud to Joo Hyuk.

But. However.

All of the planning and the fact that you’d known how very much Joo Hyuk had needed a break from work had built up quite a bit of pressure for this vacation to be as perfect as it could be.

It had been as perfect as it could be, but perfect never comes easily.

You’d worked hard to help it become perfect, and now that it was all over and you were very soon to arrive back home...

You were feeling it.

All of the work you’d done before the trip, all of the activities you’d checked off during the trip, and the unconscious demand lurking in the back of your head for the trip to be just what Joo Hyuk needed... It was all coming to the tipping point the closer you got to your apartment, and by the time you stepped in through the front door, you felt like you were going to collapse with exhaustion.

“It does feel good to be home, though,” Joo Hyuk said, and his tone made it obvious that hadn’t been the first thing he’d said.

Were you already so tired that you were zoning out and missing full sentences?

“Mm,” you hummed, deciding not to let on that you were kind of about to drop right here on the floor and fall asleep -- that you were so exhausted, you’d completely missed the first part of whatever your boyfriend had said.

“I’m just going to check my email,” Joo Hyuk murmured as you began to lug your suitcase back toward your shared bedroom.

Again, you simply hummed in response -- and that’s how you knew your brain was fried. Joo Hyuk checking his email just after arriving home from vacation should have made you stop and warn him that he at least needed to wait until tomorrow to get back into Work Mode. But, no. You just hummed and trudged through your apartment to go unpack.

When you reached your bedroom, you let your suitcase fall to the floor, and you dropped onto your knees beside it to unzip it.

Your arms felt like lead -- or like they were stuck in Jello -- as you began to take out your clothes and put them in a pile next to you.

If you were in your right mind, you would have taken your suitcase closer to your clothes hamper to cut out the middle man.

But you were, apparently, just too tired to think efficiently at the moment.

Joo Hyuk’s voice suddenly cut through the silence, and you jumped a little --

...Wait.

How had he checked his email so quickly?

And why had his sudden presence startled you that much?

...Had you been --

“Why didn’t you tell me you were that tired?” Joo Hyuk said softly as he crouched down next to you.

Well, then. You had just fallen asleep while unpacking your suitcase.

You knew you were exhausted, but you didn’t realize you were that exhausted.

“Sorry,” you murmured, your brow furrowed as Joo Hyuk reached to pick you up. He slid one arm behind your knees, the other across your back, and stood up to carry you bridal-style to your bed. “I guess it just hit me all at once when we got home.”

“No, don’t apologize,” he replied, carefully leaning over and setting you on top of the bed. “You did a lot of work, and we were pretty busy this whole week. You just get some rest, and I’ll finish unpacking, okay?”

The second your head hit the soft cushion of your pillow, your eyes began to droop. You weren’t sure if you even responded to him, and the last thing you remember was Joo Hyuk reaching for the throw blanket at the end of the bed.

An indeterminate length of time later, the scent of something cooking tickled your nose. You smelled it first before you even blinked your eyes open, but when you did open your eyes, you found that not only had Joo Hyuk covered you with a blanket...

He had wrapped the blanket around you like the tortilla of a burrito.

A smile tugged at your lips, and you nestled into the blanket even further, letting out a soft sigh of contentment.

You were wrapped up in your blanket like a burrito, the apartment smelled like the most delicious dinner was cooking, and you had just taken a much-needed nap.

There was no way you could be even remotely upset right now. Not even the tiniest bit.

With a groan, you began to sit up so you could unroll yourself and make your way to the kitchen. The smell of dinner was just too tempting to resist, and your stomach was on the verge of letting out a rather audible grumble.

But before you could even lift one corner of the blanket around you, you heard footsteps shuffling toward the bedroom. And when your gaze landed on the doorway, you saw Joo Hyuk had appeared gingerly carrying a steaming bowl, his hands covered by your favorite floral pot holders.

You managed to inch up into a seated position by the time he got to the side of the bed, and you asked, “What’s this?”

“I thought I would make you some soup,” he answered, perching on the edge of the mattress and shifting the bowl to cradle it in one hand. After slipping the pot holder from his now free hand, he took the spoon from inside the bowl and dipped it into the soup.

“Babe, you don’t have to feed me,” you chuckled, though you still accepted the spoonful he offered, slurping the soup carefully. Once you’d swallowed it, feeling the comforting warmth sliding down your throat, you added, “I’m not sick! I’m just exhausted.”

Joo Hyuk held out another spoonful of soup for you, waiting until you’d taken it before replying with, “Yeah, but you took care of me this whole week -- and a long time before then, too. It’s time for me to take care of you.”

“I did not take care of you,” you retorted with a soft grin.

“You absolutely did.”

“I just planned our trip! Once we actually got there, we did everything together.”

Your boyfriend let out a soft sigh and leaned over to set the bowl down on the nightstand. “I know, but... I know it hasn’t been easy because I’ve been so stressed out.”

“It really --”

“Just let me finish,” he interrupted, shooting you a playful smirk.

You pressed your lips together and snuggled back into your pillows.

“I know I’m not always the easiest person to live with because I don’t share things easily. Or... at all. Unless you force me to. And no one should have to do that to their partner, so I’m sorry I clam up when I’m stressed. But if it annoys you or worries you, literally no one would know. You either do an amazing job of hiding it or...”

He trailed off, so you took this opportunity to say something.

“Or I just know that’s how you are, and I love you. Unconditionally,” you said quietly.

Yes, sometimes it did annoy you that Joo Hyuk had such a hard time sharing how he felt. Sometimes you did feel like you were nagging him to be more open and forcing him to tell you what emotions he was experiencing.

But... you also understood that emotions can be super tricky. And complicated. And hard to express. Everyone is different, and everyone handles emotions differently. So, if you loved Joo Hyuk unconditionally, you had to accept that he was one of those people who just had a difficult time with them.

If you didn’t accept that, wouldn’t it be a condition to your love? You only loved him if he expressed his emotions freely?

So, you mustered all your patience and you gave him time. You helped him out as much as you could and stepped away when you felt like you needed to.

Joo Hyuk smiled down at his lap, shaking his head gently. “I... don’t know how I got so lucky finding you, but...” He lifted his gaze, looking at you with more love in his eyes than you really even knew what to do with. “I hope you know how much you mean to me, and that I never want to take you for granted.”

“Of course, I do,” you murmured, finally wriggling your hands free from your blanket burrito so you could cradle his ridiculously handsome face in your palms. “I know you, and I know that you letting me in is just one way you show me that you care. You may not realize it, but you do a lot of little things, and I learned pretty quickly that they all mean you love me.”

Joo Hyuk grinned bashfully, and you leaned in to capture his lips in a brief kiss.

“And I love you, too,” you whispered. “And I really love when you turn me into a blanket burrito and make soup for me, even if I’m not sick.”

Your boyfriend chuckled lightly, his breathy laugh grazing over your lips.

“It’s really good soup, by the way,” you told him as you pulled away and reached for the bowl on the nightstand.

“Thanks,” he replied, setting one of the pot holders in your lap so you could put the bowl there. “I used that cookbook you got me for Christmas last year.”

Your eyes widened, and you beamed over at him. “You did?!” you marveled. “Oh, now I really know you love me.”

“Please don’t take that to mean I want another one this year,” he laughed, shaking his head. “One cookbook is enough.”

“No, you can never have too many cookbooks!” you argued playfully. “Just like you can never have too many blankets.”

“That is also not true. We’re only two people, we can’t use that many --”

“But what if I want to be a different blanket burrito every day of the week?”

Joo Hyuk quirked a brow at you and opened his mouth to reply... but he stopped himself. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re right,” he mumbled before he got up and headed back out of the bedroom. “You’re right. You always are.”

Rather than crow triumphantly after him, you simply smiled down at your bowl of soup. You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from squealing, and that’s when you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Joo Hyuk would be by your side for as long as you both shall live.

After two years, he could still make you bite your lip and squeal like a young girl with a schoolyard crush. He could still make you smile like a kid on Christmas morning. He could still make your heart and stomach flip just like he could the first time you’d met him.

...I mean, you’d already known he was your Forever, long before this. But you know what I mean. You just knew even more.

At home, on vacation, stressed out, in a blanket burrito, with a bowl of soup, out on the balcony, under the stars...

Whenever, wherever, however -- it didn’t matter.

Forever and ever, even more, he was yours.

#kwritersworldnet #nam joo hyuk scenarios #nam joo hyuk imagines #nam joo hyuk au #nam joo hyuk fluff #nam joo hyuk fanfic #kdrama scenarios #kdrama imagines #kdrama au #kdrama fluff #kdrama fanfic #kdrama actor #korean actor #nam joo hyuk

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randomfandomnerd · 3 years

Text

Sunshine and Shadows- Chapter 1

Watching Nico talking to Annabeth and Percy, Will mentally slapped himself in the face. That conversation had gone about as smoothly as the surface of the moon. There was no chance of Nico ever willingly talking to him if he behaved like an overprotective mother hen, although part of him still wanted to wrap the son of Hades up in a blanket, burrito-style, and hand-feed him nutritious snacks.

“Solace!”

The harsh tone of Clarisse’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“Quit admiring Di Angelo! I know you’d be more than happy to do that all day, so I’m reminding you now! You have an appointment after lunch to give Chuck a check-up DO NOT BE LATE OR YOU’LL BE GETTING AN APPOINTMENT WITH MY SPEAR!”

On that friendly note, the newly-elected godmother stormed over to the Athena Cabin to harass the campers who had offered to weave clothes for the new-born satyr. Gods help whoever stood in the way of her warpath. She adored Chuck and was determined to make his life as perfect as possible.

Will nodded vaguely, before turning back to watch the son of Hades. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t his fault that Nico was so gods damned attractive. Nico laughed at something Percy said, the action lighting up his face, making him truly look like the angel his name said he was. He gave Annabeth a high-five before heading back towards where Will was standing in front of the Apollo Cabin.

Will noticed a blush creeping into his cheeks and quickly turned away, mortified. A moment later he felt a prod at his shoulder and looked up to see the son of Hades regarding him questioningly.

“Will? We’d better get these 3 days over and done with then, right?”

Startled, Will let out a weird laugh that sounded like a piece of machinery made by Cabin 9, before nodding, turning round, and promptly walking into the doorframe, much to the amusement of Kayla, who was sitting inside, waxing her bowstring. Embarrassed, he quickly changed from his flip-flops into something more suitable for the infirmary before emerging again onto the porch.

✧✧✧

Nico was waiting for him on the porch, leaning against a post, drumming his fingers against the railing. When Will approached him, he stood up and gestured for the son of Apollo to lead the way. The walk to the infirmary was short, thank the gods, and Will spent the time determinedly staring forwards. A few campers were hurrying around, carrying supplies. Will nodded a hello towards Jake Mason, who was with a few other Hephaestus kids. The older boy didn’t have crutches any more, but preferred to use a cane when he had to walk around. Typical Cabin 9-style it had several cool additions, such as being able to extend into a fighting staff and, if Harley had anything to do with it, probably a flamethrower somewhere. The scarily muscular 8-year-old was chatting animatedly to his older brother, but he wasn’t at his usual bouncy self. Harley had worshipped Leo, and had been devastated by his loss. It didn’t help that now, closer to the start of school, all of his siblings, save for Nyssa, would be heading home or to college for a while. Will made a mental note to hang out with him more.

The two boys reached the doors of the infirmary and Will opened one, stepping aside to let Nico in first. Once they were inside, Will made a beeline for an empty bed at the back of the infirmary.

“We save the front beds for anyone that comes in with a really severe injury”,

he explained. He gestured for Nico to sit on the bed while he fussed around, clearing some of Austin’s sheet music away from a chair before plonking himself down on it. He’d have a word later with his brother about working on his compositions in the infirmary. Glancing up, he noticed that Nico was looking rather awkward (and adorable). He kept moving his hands around, as if he weren’t quite sure what he was doing, whilst desperately avoiding eye contact with anyone. Right. Nico wasn’t a people person, and it was currently quite busy in the surrounding area. Will stood up to draw the blue curtain around their area, before turning to address the son of Hades.

“I know this is primarily for you to get some rest, but I think I should give you a general check just to make sure nothing other than your irresponsible use of underworldy powers is a problem.”

Nico scowled at him but didn’t argue, instead opting for a curt nod. Will continued,

“I’ll start by looking under that bandage on your arm”

He reached out to Nico’s arm

“Is this ok?”,

he asked. Nico paused slightly, before nodding again. As gently as he could, Will raised Nico’s arm and began to slowly unwind the bandage, revealing several nasty-looking red claw-marks gouged into his skin.

“Werewolf claws”,

mumbled Nico. Will frowned.

“These are definitely infected. I’ll check for a fever and get some ambrosia for you. I reckon these will leave scars.”

He hesitated, then leaned in and brushed Nico’s raven-black hair from his forehead. It felt soft and, to his dismay, Will found his cheeks turning pink again. Holding the back of his hand against Nico’s pale forehead, he noticed how warm the son of Hades was.

“Nico, you’re burning up!”,

he announced before rummaging around in a nearby cupboard for some ambrosia and anything else he could use to treat the wound. He noticed a rather sad-looking Aloe Vera plant. Didn’t his siblings know that Aloe Vera should be placed in direct sunlight and not at the back of supply cupboards? He placed the poor plant in the windowsill, before taking a washcloth and some antibacterial ointment from the cupboard, along with the promised ambrosia. After thoroughly washing his hands, he handed the ambrosia to Nico, who began to delicately take small bites out of it, while he wet the cloth under the tap and started to carefully clean the wound. Nico winced slightly when the cloth made contact with the infected area, but had a slightly dopey faraway expression whilst he ate the ambrosia. Will wondered what Nico tasted when he consumed ambrosia. When Will ate it he tasted the sweet lemonade his grandma made whenever he returned home to visit. He tended to remain at camp most of the time, due to his mum always travelling for work and his insistence not to attend any sort of boarding school, but every now and again, he would fly over with a satyr protector to stay at his grandparent’s house with her. When he left, he would spend most of his time wondering when, or if, he’d ever get to go back. Especially after having 2 big wars in the space of a few years. Of course, his problems were all miniscule compared to what Nico had had to go through. He’d had to face the death of his sister, being alone with only a ghost for company, knowing about Camp Jupiter and not being able to tell anyone, being kidnapped and locked in a jar by crazy giants, and then on top of all of that had to deal with everyone at camp avoiding him, because they thought that he wasn’t normal. It all made Will so angry at the world, for allowing some people so many good things, when Nico could probably count the number of times he’d been happy since coming to camp on one hand, and still have fingers left over to spare.

Nico cleared his throat, and Will realised to his embarrassment, that he was staring again. He sheepishly placed the cloth in the sink, before lightly spreading a thin layer of the antibacterial ointment over the claw marks and murmuring a prayer to his father, while wondering if it would even work, seeing as Apollo was probably at that moment in time in the middle of a long lecture from his father, Zeus, concerning Octavian, the evil stuffed-toy destroyer (Percy had treated the whole camp to a story at the campfire of how his panda pillow pet had been brutally slaughtered).

He then covered the wound with a gauze pad, finishing by gently wrapping a length of bandage around, to prevent further infection.

He turned round to clean up while giving Nico strict instructions,

“I’ll talk to Chiron and explain that you are under no circumstances to partake in any sort of training exercises. You should spend most of your time here, getting some much needed sleep, however I think it’s a good idea for you to attend 1 meal a day at the pavilion, which will also allow you to have some healthy time outdoors. The rest of the time I will provide food for you.”

Even though he was facing away, he could imagine the son of Hades glaring daggers at him.

“I can get food myself. There’s a McDonalds near enough that the shadow travel shouldn’t hurt me.”

Will sighed in exasperation, running a hand through his hair and turning around to face his stubborn patient.

“Really? What part of ‘you can’t even summon a wishbone without melting into a puddle of darkness’ do you not get? I’m not even going to start on the ridiculous lack of proper nutrients in a McDonalds meal. What can they offer you that camp doesn’t?”

Nico raised his chin in a show of defiance

“Does Camp Half-Blood offer snazzy boxes? No I thought not. It also has an over-bearing mamma bear watching my every move. When I agreed to this, I expected gentle rest, not a prison sentence.”

He dramatically flopped back on the bed, his head on the pillow.

“I’m not even tired! Not one bit!”

Fixing his glare at the ceiling he mumbled

“This is a nice pillow. Soft and squishy.”

On that note, he fell asleep, still muttering about how fully awake he was. Amused, Will shook his head and stepped out of the curtained area into the main area of the infirmary to see Cecil and Austin chuckling in his direction. Austin was in the process of checking Cecil’s strained calf muscle and met Will’s eyes with an amused look.

“Why William my dear brother, I do believe that you have met your match. He’s just as headstrong as you are!”

Disgruntled, the senior counsellor of the Apollo cabin went to the storage closet to reorganise the medical supplies.

#heroes of olympus #rick riordan #trials of apollo #riordanverse #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #camp half blood

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kafka-ish · 4 years

Text

brother | r.t.

can boys and girls be friends without attached feelings?

word count: 2.1k

warnings/included: angst(?), college AU, fem!reader

a/n: based off of this song

Richie Tozier sat in the parking lot of USC’s Law Department. Become a Lawyer his mom said. You’ll make a lot of money his dad said. It only took two weeks into his freshman year of college for Richie to figure out that he actually hated the judicial system and to hell with it. He was about to light a cigarette even though he pledged to quit months ago: the last day of senior year.

He and the rest of the Losers were hanging by the quarry. Beverly was sitting on the hood of Bill’s car, slathering sunscreen on her sensitive skin because she burns easily. Ben sat with her, his arm itching to wrap itself around her pale shoulder. Bill, Eddie, and Stan were playing cards and Mike had to monitor them for cheating. Richie would’ve joined, but he didn’t want to get up from his position that overlooked the quarry’s water hole. He was laying down on the rocks, eyes closed and shades on, in place of his usual glasses.

“I think I’m gonna quit smokin’,” he announced with a certain proudness that his voice normally did not hold.

“O-oh yeah? How l-long’s that gonna luh-last?” Bill looked up from his cards, giving Eddie a chance to sneak a peak.

“I saw that, Eddie!” Mike Hanlon called from above and Eddie flinched.

“Cripes. Warn a guy before you yell first.”

Four months. It lasted four months, Big Bill, as Richie took out his BIC. He had to mess with it a few times to get the flame to startup. He always preferred matches, but the black lighter with flame stickers he kept in his shirt pocker was cooler.

A yellow-orange heat finally flicked the contraption to life when, at the same time, his Nokia 232 buzzed against the gearshift.

Four months and one day.

The small flame died in Richie’s hand that was now pressing his phone to his ear with no hesitation.

“Rich the Dick Tozier speaking, how can I help you?” Sure, it wasn’t the most professional way to answer a phone call, but who was anyone to call Richie Tozier a professional guy?”

“Hey, Richie!” It was y/n. y/n the girl who sat in front of him in his English class. y/n the girl who wore parkas in fucking California because it’s for the fashion and you wouldn’t understand. y/n the girl who got drunk off her ass at the first party of the year—which, ironically, was where they met.

The parties in college were spectacularly different from the parties Richie would go to in high school. More so, the parties in California were more… insane. Wild. The booze was exponentially more expensive—nothing that Bill would ever think of getting at his own. And the girls could closely be mistaken for a Hollywood child star.

Nothing like the parties in Derry Richie thought to himself as he drunkenly swept through the halls of a fucking Mansion. He didn’t realize his feet were working properly until he looked down, seeing as he was standing on all fours—all twos. How he was still standing up remained a mystery to him because he must’ve had ten shots of vodka that was worth more than his entire being and future.

Before him, when he entered the billiard room, stood a girl even drunker than him (somehow). She stood on the pool table, laughing above the crowd of frat boys who were yelling to take your damn shirt off already! And c’mon don’t be a prude. They surrounded her like dogs fighting for the last strip of steak until Richie stepped in.

“A little drunk to be standing on the edge like that.” He took a swig from his red solo cup. “Here, sweetheart, lemme help you down.” He offered her an unsteady hand only to be brushed away like a speck of dust on a grandfather clock.

“I can help myself,” y/n said. She got down from the pool table by sitting on the ledge first, then letting each foot touch the ground one at a time. “See?” She steadied herself using his shoulder and looked up at him with a smirk that let him know they were going to be friends.

And they were friends.

y/n was overjoyed when she found out Richie was in one out of her five classes and Richie was just happy to be able to talk someone’s ear off without them rolling their eyes or giving him the side-eye.

“Hey, y/n/n,” Richie said, mimicking the same enthusiasm from across the speaker. “What’re you up to?”

“Besides calling you?” Richie felt himself beginning to laugh but it felt wrong to do so. As cheery as y/n sounded, there was something off.

“Are you okay?” Richie blurted out, but he couldn’t help himself. It was in his nature; always looking out for y/n; always taking care of her.

“I’m fine, Tozier.” She laughed but he could tell it was fake. The way her voice was still summer in the crisp of fall was fake. The whole call was fake. “You just love checking in on me don’t ya.” Another giggle left the speaker—covering the cracks in her voice, or a sob.

“No, really.” His hand left the phone—his shoulder and cheek propping the device up against his ear—and reached for the gearshift. “How are you?”

Static. But Richie had been over at her place thousands of times before—not needing to ask for her address or pull out a map for directions. And Richie was right (he was always right) when he burst through the wooden door of y/n’s small, but somehow spacious, Los Angeles apartment.

“y/n, I know you’re in there,” Richie said, followed by three curt knocks. His shoulder slumped against the door and he sighed. “y/n, don’t make me go all big bad wolf on your little ol’ door.” He looked down to see the welcoming mat where guests were supposed to wipe their shoes off.

There’s No Place Like Home

A short laugh bounced off the walls from inside and Richie took that as his queue. His hand had a firm grasp around the bronze doorknob, refreshing from the California air. He jangled it, only for the structure to not budge, like it didn’t give a damn that he had to get inside.

“Dammit, y/n/n, get off your goddamned high horse and open the door.”

Richie was never one for words, but at these, the lock broke in and in slipped Richie. It was as if the door had heard his cries and complied—feeling sorry for the boy. But the mysteriousness of y/n’s apartment door didn’t matter when Richie’s eyes caught y/n’s figure—or lack of one. She sat on the leather couch which was a moving present from her parents (“We know how expensive it can be; being a young adult with college expenses. Wow, to think, my baby’s all grown up.”), wrapped in a blanket, burrito style. Even fro six feet away (approximately), Richie could see the tears welling in her eyes and the snot spilling from her nose.

“Richie Tozier, can you ever learn to take a goddamn hint?” y/n’s voice was far too weak to show any sign of malicious intent. He stood in front of her, tentative but also caring. He wanted to help. He just didn’t know how.

“I am taking the hint.” Richie sat down next to the bundle of blankets. He sat close, so close that if y/n’s feet were on the floor, his knees would’ve touched hers. She could smell his mint deodorant and cheap cologne; or maybe she was just so used to having him next to her, that was what she knew he smelled like. y/n smelled like this month’s body wash. Orange blossom. She must’ve taken an extra-long soak today. She always did when something was wrong. “I know you want me here, toots. Otherwise, you wouldn’t’ve called.”

Richie was right and at the moment y/n hated him for being able to read her mind.

She was about to tell him off but a strangled cry left her lips instead. Richie didn’t need to ask what was wrong to know what was wrong. Besides, it would be cruel—condescending—to put a filter over his voice the way you’d talk to a terrier or a baby and ask what’s wrong?

It was clear what was wrong. Judging by the two-hour-long bath she had taken beforehand and off-brand, empty Ben & Jerry’s container on her coffee table: her piece of shit boyfriend had just dumped her. Richie never liked Brandon, y/n’s so-called (now ex) boyfriend. But it could’ve been the other way around, too. His over-gelled head was always stuck in his Levi 512’s and the only time Richie saw that pompous smirk leave his lips was when he walked in on him and y/n kissing. Gag. But y/n had the right to be upset about getting dumped—even if it was by a perpetual twerp who never passed up the chance to brag about his perfect SAT score (wake up, buddy, we all got into the same college).

Richie sat waiting for a reply he was never going to get because y/n was too busy blowing her nose into the sleeve of her robe.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Carefully, Richie unwrapped y/n from the cocoon, similarly to how a cautious child unwraps their presents. “You don’t need Brandon. You don’t need anyone.” It was true. She didn’t need anyone, and if anything people needed her. “You’re y/n.” He spoke the two words with such sureness—confidence. She was y/n, and if that’s not enough for them to see, then they’re delusional.

“How do you know?” She asked. Even if it was just a college boyfriend—her first college boyfriend—it still hurt like hell. The thought of being not wanted. Knowing it was her; that she couldn’t just fix whatever her lover didn’t like that ended up pushing him off the edge. He just didn’t like her.

Of course, she didn’t love Brandon. She didn’t love the way his hair was always stiff and she couldn’t comb her fingers through it the way she did Richie’s. She didn’t love him finding an excuse to say hello to the next blonde he saw whenever they went to parties together. She didn’t love Brandon, and Brandon apparently didn’t love her. But if Brandon didn’t love her, then who would?

Maybe the answer was staring her down right in front of her, or pressing against her shoulder as Richie bent down to pick up the empty ice cream carton. “You are y/n, right?” Richie asked in attempts to bring her spirits up.

And he did.

y/n’s eyes crinkled as she smiled and she chocked on her breath at the laugh she tried to hold in. “Do you think I’m an impostor?”

“Who knows?” Richie sat back down. His shoulder brushed her covered one and his head fell back to look at the ceiling. “Plastic surgery is pretty popular these days. Especially in La City of Angels.” He turned to face her now—a tear-free y/n that stared back at him. Her eyes were much lighter than before and her skin looked like it had just been kissed. By who?

“You’re an angel,” y/n said unexpectedly. Well, this was a turn of events. Richie managed to suppress his cough—a usual reaction that’d take place when he was surprised.

He pulled on the collar of his band-tee (Rock On, AC/DC!) because it was all of the sudden hard to breathe in this small LA apartment of y/n’s. He felt his pulse quicken under the skin of his wrist and neck. A line of sweat was forming beneath his browbone. Oftentimes, it was hard to differentiate if California was undergoing an unforeseen heatwave or if Richie was just drawing a fever. But summer had passed and Richie hand’t gotten sick in years, even if it was just a head cold.

Richie sat there, speechless, and wondered. He wondered why, out of all the nicknames in the world, he hasn’t called y/n baby yet. It was always babe or honey, but never baby. Why was that? Hypothetically, he could call her that. He could call her a lot of things—like his. So why didn’t he? Why had he never asked y/n out?

But it occurred to him, as y/n tucked a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, that y/n was hurting. She needed a friend and nothing more. A brother, per se. He could sense her lean in. For a kiss, perhaps? But Richie was quick to dodge and cup her face in his large palm. An intimate action, sure, but their relationship was far from it.

“Look, y/n/n.” His breath hit her face. It was warm and felt like home. “You’re hurting right now.” His thumb rubbed along her jawline. “We’re just friends, right?”

“Friends,” y/n echoed back to him. And while she wasn’t completely convinced with the words coming from Richie Tozier’s mouth, she’d agree with him for his sake.

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier x reader fluff #richie tozier x reader angst #richie tozier x reader fanfiction #richie tozier fluff #richie tozier angst #it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #richie tozier imagine

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

Text

Kick Ball Change (a Destiel fic inspired by 15x10 “The Heroes’ Journey”)

Dean has the Bunker to himself at a time after he and Sam regain their supernatural abilities. With nothing needing his attention, he decides taking time for himself wouldn't hurt. But the usual fare leaves him bored and tired.

So he tries something new. Something he wanted to try, but wasn't sure he would be good at. Dean starts off strong, but doing it on your own can only be so fun. Get you so far. Luckily a partner happens by and truly allows Dean to enjoy a part of himself he knew was there, but didn't want to share.

He leans forward, studying the laptop screen intently. Frowning, eyes flicking left and right while counting along with the instructor. His finger clicks on the trackpad and then pulls back. Restarts the video for the umpteenth time. When Dean feels confident, he pauses the video at the two-minute mark.

Distancing himself from the table, Dean’s stare dips down towards his feet. Watches them repeat the steps. Slowly, like if he were walking on a wintry lake where the ice thinly covered the surface. Imagines the clicks with each soft tap of his heel or a scratchy swoosh when he dragged his toes across the floor.

Through repetition, his skill improves. Instead of the jerky movements from which he began Dean moves with a touch of grace. Soon, he tears his gaze away and trusts that his feet will lead him through the routine without having to watch. Panting, beads of sweat dripping through his hairline, Dean dances the mini-routine at least ten more times. Then he stops and slumps over to the laptop again.

Two minutes. Out of thirty.

“Son of a…” he runs a tired hand through his hair, ignoring the aches in his joints and hits play.

There was only so much time he had anyway.

“I’m heading out.”

Dean glanced up from a magazine, Sam standing a few feet away with his duffel packed. “Where you going?”

“Jody’s,” he said, walking to the stairs, “she called about issues with a wolf pack and wanted some help. By the time her, Donna, and Claire make it there they’ve picked up and moved on.”

Nodding, he marked his page and stood. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll be ready –“

“Actually,” Sam coughed, blushing, “I was planning on driving over there alone.”

Stunned, Dean allowed a beat to pass before asking. “Oh?” brow raised, “You sick of me already? Alaska to Kansas too long being stuck in a car with your brother.” It’s only been a day since they returned, but it’s all the difference. Dean and Sam felt more like themselves after their luck returned. Being average was an interesting experience, one Dean never wanted to go through again. He would go mad if it became his reality. “Because I’ll tell you,” he continued, “it wasn’t me stinking up the cabin with those Gas-n-Sip burrito farts.”

Sam’s lips pursed and then thinned. “No,” he said, “you were too busy puking into a plastic bag after eating Bess’s grilled cheeses… again.”

Dean shrugged, neck heating up at the memory. “What? They were good.”

“You were lactose intolerant!”

“I call bullshit on that,” he argued, “Cavities, I get. Skills getting rusty, sure. But me gushing chunks after so much as a cheese stick? No – that makes no sense. Chuck was just being a dick with that one… keeping me from cheese.” Dean huffed, crossing his arms, “At least that’s not the case anymore, right? Me and cheese are friends again.” Sam’s bitchiness intensified. “Anyway… why’re you leaving me behind?”

As if Dean stabbed a pin into his balloon, Sam’s irritation deflated into a shyness. His shoe scuffed against the floor. “Well… I wasn’t the first person Jody called.”

“Right, you mentioned Donna –“

“Because, well… because Eileen is still en route.”

The clouds parted. Light streams through and brightened Dean’s face, his grin stretching wide until his cheeks hurt. “Oh,” he said, “that’s why –“

“Dean…”

“You don’t want me crashing your little date,” he chuckled, delighting in Sam’s scowl. “What? Afraid I’d embarrass you in front of her… like she didn’t see enough when she was haunting our home like Casper.”

“Dean –“

“You already kissed her Sam, and she’s still kicking,” Dean said, slapping the magazine across his knee. Aware of how close Sam was to having a meltdown, he pumped the brakes. “Go. Have fun with your girlfriend hunting weres,” he sighed, “I’ll watch the fort… alone… with nothing but my hand for company.”

Sam huffed, a smile threatening the dark corners of his lips. “You can always call Cas.”

“He’s busy,” Dean told him, mirth draining from his voice. “On his way back from Heaven he found a case in Southern California.” He wrung the magazine in his hands, wrinkling the pages. “You’ll probably be back before him.”

After exchanging quick goodbyes, Sam left. Seconds passed after the front door’s heavy slam, Dean wasting no time to sneak away towards the kitchen. Using his first night to revel in all the shameful acts Sam would cast a judgmental stare at. Like piling meats and cheeses – no vegetables – onto toasted bread. Paired with as many different fries he could find in the freezer and empty onto the baking tray. Enjoyed his meal alongside a very adult film, one Sam would make him watch hidden in his room. Where the grunts and moans were contained. They echoed in the War Room, mixed with Dean’s own laughter.

Except porn can only be so interesting.

He lost interest rather quickly without someone being there, around to possibly walk in. Catch him in the act and then admonish him. Loneliness softened the edges of thrilling danger. By the fifth movie, Dean tied his robe shut and waddled off towards the showers to clean up.

All throughout the shower, Dean wondered what he should do next. Pranking Sam felt too pointless, knowing his brother would return with a goofy smile and good mood that would be difficult to ruin. If he wanted any chance his energies were better saved coming up with over-invasive questions to pester him with.

Outside the washroom, Dean turned and wondered about the shooting range. The idea fit like an old shirt. Familiar, but ineffective. Dean outgrowing the need to blast bullet holes in his problems. Especially boredom.

He kept thinking while in the shower, lathering his body on autopilot. Not realizing he finished until he saw his reflection. Towel wrapped around his hair, eyes tinged red from where shampoo must have fallen in, and a piece of floss hanging from his mouth.

“I want you to promise me you’ll floss from now on,” Garth said, shoving the plastic cartridge into his hand.

Lips pursed, he tried handing it back. “If Alaska’s what you promised, I doubt I’ll need to worry about my teeth again.”

Garth fought, forcing his fingers around it with the supernatural strength he reminded Dean at every chance during this encounter. The pressure around his wrist sent sparks firing up his spine like fireworks. “It don’t matter,” he growled. “Luck is temporary. Good teeth are forever.”

His gums tingled with minty freshness, but it wasn’t too horrible. Better than the cavities, or the process it went to fill them.

“But that laughing gas…”

He propped himself up on the sink, remembering the insane choreography his mind dreamed up during that affected state. Inspired by some Ginger Rodgers-flick he must’ve caught late at night when he couldn’t sleep. And after flipping through channels, stumbling upon her spinning in Fred Astaire’s arms and marveling at the ease with which they both glided through the number made the late hours pass in a blink until Sam knocked on his door, inviting him for breakfast.

It looked supernatural, but Fred and Ginger weren’t blessed like Sam and Dean. Their talent came from hard work, and not a boost from God.

“But anyone can be a good dancer,” he mumbled, “I bet, with time, I could…”

Resolved, Dean tore the floss from his mouth and hurried to get changed. A simple hoodie and sweats, easy to move in. Hurried to his laptop left in the war room, frozen in ecstasy, and began the search.

The first few websites he tried were articles. They detailed what Dean needed to start and the different types of dancing he could try. A few looked rather impossible for a beginner like him, and others required two participants. An hour in, he found one written by a former tap dancer detailing the history of the style and their experience in the last twenty years. He sat, captivated, learning how it was more than just simple clickity-clacking. How tap mixed together a variety of cultural styles and grew in popularity. Transitioning from minstrel shows to vaudeville acts and jazz. Booming from the late Eighteen hundreds into its height of the twenties and thirties, slowly falling out of the spotlight after that.

“Each class I took I felt a little bit happier with myself,” the author wrote, “I didn’t really have much to be proud of… some days it was like I passed through the day. Existing, but doing nothing with my life. Watching myself dance in the mirror and complete a complicated routine and thinking ‘I did that’ it… it gave me the energy to make it into the next day.”

At the bottom of the article, a few links auto-populated to tap dancing videos. Dean clicked on the first and spiraled.

He’s hungry, skipping lunch and dinner to dance. It’s probably nighttime, except Dean won’t check his phone. All Dean knows is that there is a minute left of the video, his ankles hurt, and he has only a few more steps to go until putting it all together.

“Okay,” he says, dragging the button to the very start, “let’s give this a try.”

Dean waits for the music to play, nerves twisting together and strangling his heart. He ignores them in favor of focusing on the instructor counting him in. His foot slides to the side and lightly taps the floor. Gentle smack mixing with the jazzy piano and clack from the professional tap shoes. Repeats the process with the other foot.

And then he’s dancing.

It’s not the greatest, Dean stumbling a few times. But he powers through. Does as he read and keeps moving onto the next step.

Halfway through he finds the pain in the lower half of his body overpowered by the ache in his face from smiling too wide, for too long. Exhaustion fades as Dean allows the joy of dance to flood in. Stops thinking and blacks out, coming to when the video ends.

Silent save for the singular clapping from nearby.

Dean whirls around, startled. He trips over himself, snapping the laptop closed. Fire crawls up his shirt and tints his neck, Dean glad the hood hides most of it.

Castiel arches a brow at the display, hands paused on the downswing in a mock prayer. “That was wonderful Dean,” he says, “I didn’t know you could dance.”

Tongue heavy, he tries his best. “I don’t. I mean… not really. Not professionally and, usually, not at all. But I… I had the time, and I thought I could do it. Figured, while I was on my own, I’d see if I could do it.” Dean folds his arms over his chest, huffing a deep breath. Painfully aware of the sweat stains soaking his fists while they hide in his armpits. “Just started doing it a couple of minutes ago actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

He hums, drifting closer. Castiel drags his fingers across the map until he reaches the laptop. Hand hovering over Dean’s, almost touching it. Radiating heat and electricity that leaves him jumpy and frozen to the ground.

“You’re really talented,” he says, “and you never did this before?” Dean shakes his head, too afraid his voice would break if he were to use it. “Amazing… do you think –“ Castiel chuckles, gaze darting to the side and away from Dean. “Do you think I could join you?”

“You… what?”

“I might not be any good,” he continues, “but you were enjoying yourself, and I could…”

His expression shifts, crinkles of delight smoothing around his eyes into a somber reflection. Dean frowns, “Hey. You could what?”

“I could…” He breathes deeply, “I could use the distraction. Things haven’t been going my way the past couple of days…”

“The hunt?”

Castiel draws into himself, Dean following until his fingers hit the edge of the laptop. “I wasn’t all that needed,” he says, “When I got there, it was in time to group up with another pair of hunters who already taken down the shifter in its nest. Barely spent an hour in town…”

“Well,” he shrugs, “at least the monster was taken care of.”

“Still,” Castiel wryly smirks, “I can’t help the selfish feeling of wanting to be the one to solve the case. To come back home with some sort of accomplishment under my belt.”

Dean understands where his angel’s mind is. Replays their last conversation, where Castiel told Dean that none of the angels left in Heaven had an inkling of where Chuck might have gone. If he hung around their plane of existence or moseyed on to greener pastures. How disappointed he felt. “Another failure –“

“Don’t say that,” he mumbled, turning away from Sam so the other man couldn’t hear him. Wouldn’t if he kept his head buried in his book. “You got the Leviathan blossom, remember?”

“And look how well that went.”

There wasn’t any other option. So, when he opens the laptop and clicks on the next video, he guides Castiel to where he stood when practicing. “Let me know when you want me to pause it,” he says, “and don’t be afraid to ask me to play it back if you need to. Oh,” he tugs on the trench coat’s lapels, “You might want to lighten your wardrobe. Probably be more difficult dancing with all this on.”

Castiel nods, slipping free from his armor. Allows Dean to hang both coat and suit jacket on a nearby chair, tossing his tie after unwrapping it. He finishes rolling up his sleeves when the first video begins. “Thank you, Dean.”

“It’s literally nothing Cas. Now pay attention, it’s… dammit, she already started. Hold on let me go back.”

Dean tries his best. But dancing becomes increasingly difficult with the addition to his class. Every so often Castiel’s elbow knocks into his and the entire routine falls apart. Lucky that he didn’t own tap shoes to start with, so mistakes went unnoticed. Castiel’s heavy brow furrowed while he pieces together the steps.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Castiel says, foot flapping on the floor like a dying fish. Laughing, hopping between left and right. “I like this.”

Dean giggles alongside him, dizzy from either the lack of food or air. His friend stealing all of it from his lungs. “Yeah. Dancing’s fun.”

“Why don’t we do this more often.”

“Well, uh…” Dean scratches his chin, “I mean, men aren’t… men don’t dance, all that much. At least we’re not supposed to.”

“Who said?”

“…Society?”

Castiel nods. He pauses the video, never breaking his stare with Dean. “I see… that’s why you were doing this when neither Sam nor I were here, then?” Dean shrugs his answer. “Society’s rules are stupid,” Castiel continues, smiling, “and you’re a lovely dancer. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

“I’m not,” he rushes to defend. Wincing when Castiel’s brow arches at him. “I wouldn’t be… if I knew I was good. I hadn’t done all that much dancing before now.”

“And after?”

“After what?”

“After today,” Castiel asks, “Will you continue dancing?”

His face burns hotter. “I don’t know,” Dean says. Pouts and hides his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “It’s fun, but at my age… all this is kind of a killer on the body. I might not be able to kick for about a month.”

He hums again. “Well,” Castiel turns to the video, “what you chose to do can be… intense. Are there any other styles of dance you’re interested in exploring?”

Dean didn’t think he would agree so readily. And after explaining how it would work, figured Castiel would respectfully decline. Instead he asked Dean what song would best fit the style. Hung close while Dean typed into the search bar, hip pressed tight to his shoulder. Devil nowhere in sight because the presence of his angel shone too bright.

“So,” he says, soft music playing in the background, “we kind of… leave our hands like this.” Dean places one of Castiel’s on his shoulder, the other floating for a long beat until, taking too long, Castiel twines their fingers together. “What –“

“I’ve seen some people do this,” Castiel says, “Is that not right?”

“No, no you’re right. It’s just…” Very intimate. A loaded gesture. Not an act he ever would have pictured escaping his dreams and becoming reality. People like Garth and Bess could enjoy it… Sam and Eileen if they worked through their issues… but him and Cas? “It’s fine,” he says, “really.”

“You’re sure –“

“Dammit Cas, shut up and sway.” Dean ends their conversation, coaxing the other man into a rhythm so he wouldn’t have to talk any longer. Calmed when he joins and relinquishes the fight. He dives headfirst into the gentle waves of guitar strings. A soothing country melody the soundtrack to their first dance.

Dean peeks at Castiel’s profile and tamps down the awed sigh exploding in his chest. Only a glimpse needed to see the whole picture. Fills in the blank canvas with an unviable future. Maybe Dean wears something fancier than the hoodie with holes in random places from countless moth bites. A sleek black tuxedo tailored to show every curve and angle. Or pure white, so radiant and shining he personifies Heaven. Shiny wingtips that would capture the reflection of the happiest day his life could produce.

All the fancy window dressing for him wouldn’t fit Castiel. He would wear his armor like always, Dean holding tight to the trench coat as they circled the floor. Dean stares at it where it rests now. Hides his smile in Castiel’s shoulder, giving nothing away.

“Dean?”

Humming, Dean squeezes and grips Castiel’s shirt tight in his fist. “Yeah?”

“I don’t think this is appropriate…” Wings clipped, Dean hurdles to Earth. His feet stumble over each other in his rush to stop, and suddenly his angel’s touch turns cloying. Before he can say anything, though, Castiel continues. “Aren’t we supposed to go fast when the music picks up?”

“What?”

“The song’s over,” Castiel says, lips quirking at the ends. Dean tunes into his surroundings to find the music changed to a mid-tempo rock song that, while not too speedy, definitely put their earlier moves out of place. He blushes, stepping away from Castiel. “Wait,” he says, closing in around Dean’s wrist. Keeping him close. “are we done dancing?”

Hope glitters in Castiel’s eyes, blinding Dean from escape. “No,” Dean tells him, “We can still dance.”

“How does one dance to a song like this?”

“…Watch.”

Dean spins on his heel, startling Castiel. Wastes no time in shedding the sludge of his overreaction, shaking it off with each wild bounce of his limbs. Hops from left to right, grinning like he was sixteen again. Slammed between punks in the middle of a crowded room while a band blasted his eardrums deaf.

“What are you doing?” Castiel asks, laughing.

Dean bounds close and snags Castiel’s hand, dragging him forward. “I’m dancing!”

“This is dancing?”

“Yeah!” He won’t release him until the other man joins him. Holding Castiel hostage, demanding a ransom of stupidity and silliness. His angel reluctantly allows his shoulders to shrug in time. From how horribly he schools his features, though, Dean knows not an ounce of disdain lives within. “Come on, Cas. You wanted to dance? It’s not all sweeping ballrooms or planned directions. Sometimes it’s frantic. It’s crazy. It’s the first thing that comes to mind!”

“The first thing that comes to mind?”

Dean reigns in his excitement at the deviousness peppering Castiel’s grin. Lessens his jumps to tiny hops. “What are you -?”

Castiel spins him off. Sends Dean flying with a strength that nearly has him kissing the floor. Instead he slides to a stop and spends a beat regaining his balance. Confident in his ability to stand straight, Dean whirls to face Castiel. The comment locked into the barrel of his mouth misfires and leaves his jaw hanging.

His angel mirrored him, slightly. Jumps tinged with caution, hesitation etched into the lines of his smile. Arms arcing to and from, fists raised high above his head until slamming down. “Like this?” he asks.

Nodding, Dean hisses a low whistle. “Beautiful.”

“...Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to watch me or are you going to dance?”

He chuckles, “What I do Cas… you can’t just call dancing.”

When listening to music, Dean always paid attention to when it began and ended. Learned how to tell when one song bled into another. Differentiate between the minutia, varying chords played or notes sung in the arrangement. Could identify a song in the first few seconds of air time.

However, with Castiel, Dean cannot believe one song can last into eternity. Loses himself in the moment and lets everything else fade into static. Nothing more important than seeing how wide Castiel’s lips can stretch until they rip in half. Dean goads his good humor with ridiculousness after ridiculousness. He shimmies hips and drags his fingers across his eyes, Castiel smirks. Kicking a chair, collapsing into it and pretending to drop a bucket of water over his body makes his angel chuckle. Laughter erupts when Dean tries to teach Castiel how to do the macarena.

They’ve devolved in their movements. Exhaustion cutting the wires above Dean’s elbows and wrists. His panting overpowers the music.

Dean shuffles backwards to sit on the edge of the war table. Castiel joins, bracketing him in on either side with his arms. Accidentally closing the laptop with a drunken slap from his hand. “Oops.”

“Cas,” Dean sighs, lightly shoving his chest, “serious party foul.”

“My bad,” he says, tilting his head in the familiar way that causes Dean’s hear to beat double-time. “Although… I doubt this party would have lasted any longer.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The fact you can barely keep your eyes open for less than a minute…” Castiel’s hand traces Dean’s arm, crawling up it and leaving fire in its wake. It settles on his cheek, thumb brushing against the stubble there. “Dean…”

He fights against the molasses slowly pouring down his face and covering his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Dean, I –“

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.

Castiel slaps his face. He doesn’t, but the speed with which his hand tears itself away from Dean stings like a slap. Both turn and stare above at Sam, the taller man clapping from the balcony.

“Wow,” he says, stomping down the nearby staircase, “you two were good. I didn’t know either of you had the skills… but I guess that’s on me, isn’t it?”

“Sam,” Castiel says, pouting, “How long have you been…”

“Not long.” He shrugs off his duffle, dumping the bag at his feet. “I caught the grand finale… a nice welcome home. Although you didn’t have to. I could’ve enjoyed it at breakfast instead of three in the morning.”

“Three in the morning?” Dean asks, fumbling for his phone. Blinking on, the curved number mocks him. “That long…”

A throat clears from nearby. He looks from his phone to Castiel, his angel fiddling with his hands. “I didn’t realize,” Castiel says, gathering his jackets, “it’s late… I should probably let you two rest. Sam. Dean…” One meaningful gaze that leaves Dean feeling exposed and raw later, Castiel exits.

Something rocks into his side, knocking him to the left. Sam smirks, sitting too close to him on the table. Eyebrow cocked in brotherly mischief. Dean scowls, “Seriously?”

“What?”

“You’re a jerk, you know that.”

Sam laughs, “I think I was within my rights.”

“I could’ve been so much worse to you, y’know,” Dean says, “I almost cut holes in all your underwear.”

“Glad to hear you didn’t.” He claps Dean’s leg, pushing off the table and snatching his duffle. “Cas is right. We need our rest…” Sam walks as far as the doorjamb, stopping underneath to round on him. “By the way… remember what I was talking about? About Cas’s staring? That’s what I meant.”

Dean fumes in his wake. “Oh yeah? Well… at least he stares at me!” His brother’s obnoxious laughter was the worst music he heard that night. Too wired to follow the others to their respective bases, Dean instead opens his laptop again and hits play.

It’s not the same, but it’s a reminder. A possibility. Hope.

#Supernatural #Spn #Spn15 #15x10 #the Heroes' Journey #Dean Winchester #Castiel #Sam Winchester #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #spn fanfic

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