what she means:WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON I ACTUALLY THOUGHT THAT OUR PRECIOUS GENTLEMAN HONG JISOO WAS AN INNOCENT VANILLA CUPCAKE THAT JUST LIKES MUSIC AND ANIME BUT NO FIRST HE DECIDES TO BBOY AND NOW HE REVEALS THAT HE LIKES TO LISTEN TO THIS SONG WITH LYRICS LIKE "NO PANTIES NO SHIRT" AND "HOW YOU MAKE THAT PUSSY TALK" ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME I AM NOT READY FOR SAVAGE JOSHUA LIKE I'M PROBABLY GOING TO FAINT WHEN THAT HAPPENS OR MOST PROBABLY HAVE A HEART ATTACK AND DIE OMG PLEASE SPARE MY LITTLE FANGIRL HEART JOSHUA PLEASE I BEG OF YOU
To be sharing such a personal story with everyone, I promise you I wouldn’t be sharing if not for the continued harassment and the toll on my physical and mental health. If you have no desire to pay attention to such personal drama, please feel free to ignore it, I promise it will not persist. My story is told, and there is really nothing left to say now.
ok so this is like super short and it literally barely took 10 mins to write and it kinda sucks but. here it is
Castiel was a big dude, no doubt about it. Not quite as big as Dean, definitely not as big as Sam. But he was fairly large.
Which is precisely why he looked absolutely ridiculous curled up in the front seat of the Impala, knees to his chest and head against the window. He shifted uncomfortably in the seat, his shoes forgotten on the floorboard and his feet tucked under him.
Dean finally sighed and pulled the car over, waking Castiel up from his light slumber. “Cas, buddy.” he said quietly, smiling fondly. “You look so uncomfortable, why don’t you, like, lay down?” Dean suggested softly, his hand still on Cas’ shoulder.
Cas blinked at him for a few seconds, his vision bleary and his eyes wide. “Cas?” he heard Dean say, frowning. He finally flickered his gaze to the hunter, blinking twice. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” he mumbled, barely coherent.
Dean was about to unlock the doors so that Cas can climb into the back seat and lay down, when suddenly there was a head in his lap, and long fingers splayed out across his denim-clad thigh. “Oh. Okay, that works too.” He whispered, and it was almost like instinct for him to place one hand in Cas’ hair, the other on the steering wheel as they drove into the night.