#instead of banding together and supporting each other everyone moves away and never speaks

[realwizardshit]

oh boy i have to write a 5-6 page autobiography about my Family Experience. Bro my family is the kind of white that, when they came to the US, absolutely obliterated their own cultural background in order to assimilate. It's like if you took a 1950s era recipe for hot dogs in gelatin and turned that into a family philosophy. There's legitimately nothing there. On top of that no one lives within 500 miles of each other and we're all rather poor so no one sees anyone basically ever.

[blu-joons]

Your First Time Being Affectionate In Front Of Another Member ~ Stray Kids Reaction

Bang Chan:

He couldn’t hide his relief as he walked off the stage, noticing you stood in the wings waiting for him. “Hug me,” he smirked, throwing his arms tightly around you.

You did as Chan said, moving your arms tightly around his waist. “You did so well, I’m not surprised your absolutely exhausted now,” you complimented into his ear.

“Cute,” you suddenly heard a voice mumble from behind you.

Both of you looked back to see Hyunjin watching the two of you closely. “Something you want to say a little louder?” Chan grinned, noticing the blush on Hyunjin’s cheeks.

“I’ve just never seen the two of you actually hug before, it’s cute,” he repeated, offering you both a warm smile, “you look good together like this.”

Chan’s brows knitted in confusion, “what are you trying to say we look like when we’re not hugging each other?” He challenged, “what’s so different.”

“Nothing,” Hyunjin chuckled, quickly correcting his mistake. “It’s just nice to see that you’re in love now rather than just constantly hearing you just say it.”

“I don’t constantly say it, don’t lie in front of Y/N.”

Lee Know:

You knew as soon as Minho pulled you to one side what his intentions were, pinning you up against the wall. “Stop, before someone ends up spotting us both.”

Minho’s head shook, pressing one of his hands against your crimson cheeks, “we’re all alone, don’t worry about any of them, just put lipstick on my lips, please.”

“Excuse me,” a voice coughed as soon as you pressed a kiss to Minho.

In an instant, you pulled away as Felix tried to walk down the corridor. “There are other routes you could take to the kitchen,” Minho hissed, stepping aside for him.

“But this way is quicker,” Felix smirked, smiling forcefully as he passed you by, “and I’m too nosey to ignore the fact I saw you both sneak away too.”

Minho’s eyes rolled, sensing your frustration from beside him. “Can’t you just hurry up and go to the kitchen so we can get back to what we were doing, before being interrupted?”

“I could,” Felix whined, extending every word, “but I wouldn’t get anywhere near as much satisfaction from winding you up if I went now.”

“Your impossible, do you know that? And everyone says your harmless.”

Changbin:

His hands grabbed onto you as soon as the door opened, knowing how tempted you’d be to run away. “Oh, hello?” Jisung smiled as he walked into the room.

Your eyes sent Changbin a glare, far too strong for you to get away from. “Don’t mind us,” Changbin smiled, pulling you back tightly against your chest.

“Don’t worry, I’m not stopping,” Jisung informed you both.

You buried yourself into Changbin’s chest, feeling his head rest against yours. “Don’t feel like you have to leave for us, we don’t mind you sticking around.”

“No, you guys look cute, I don’t want to disturb any moments,” Jisung quickly assured you both, grabbing what he wanted from around the room.

Whilst you remained hidden, Changbin spoke up once again, “the other members aren’t hiding out are they, because we’re here instead?”

“No,” Jisung chuckled, “they’re doing…well, whatever they’re doing. So, Y/N, you don’t have to get so red next time too, we honestly don’t mind you both.”

“See, I told you there was no reason to get embarrassed.”

Hyunjin:

A hand grabbed onto you, pulling you into the corridor of the dorm where a bit of privacy could be had. “Why don’t you stay the night, we can be quiet, right?”

Just as Hyunjin finished speaking, a bright light caught your eye, causing you to flinch into Hyunjin’s chest. “What the hell was that?” You questioned, covering your face.

“Shoot,” you heard a voice mutter, looking to see where it came from.

As Hyunjin noticed Jeongin stood staring at you both, he knew exactly what had happened. “Were you sneaking up on the two of us and taking photos?”

“Maybe,” Jeongin smirked, placing his phone away. “I wanted to prove to the boys how cute you were, but then the flash went off and ruined it.”

You grabbed onto Hyunjin’s hand to stop him approaching Jeongin. “You know, you could just tell them we’re cute rather than having to take a photo.”

“It was too good of an opportunity,” Jeongin argued, “no one’s ever really seen the two of you together before, and I wanted to use it against the others too.”

“So, you’re using our relationship as a bribe. I see how it is.”

Han:

Your eyes widened at the sound of the main door to the dorm opening, noticing Seungmin walking in. “Sorry, I thought everyone was in their rooms.”

You desperately tried to roll away from Jisung, but his arms stayed around your waist. “We just thought we’d make the most of the big sofa without anyone around.”

“I’ll leave you to two it in a minute then,” Seungmin smiled.

You finally relaxed as he walked into the kitchen to grab himself a drink. “Your members don’t want to see us being all cuddly, I thought we always agreed on that?”

“Don’t worry Y/N,” Seungmin called out from the kitchen, only leaving you more embarrassed. “We all adore how close the two of you are anyway.”

A groan escaped as Seungmin walked back into the room, “still, this is your home, I’ll make sure to be more respectful, even if Jisung decides otherwise.”

“He’s always rubbed your relationship in our faces, I don’t think you’ll be able to change that about him any time soon,” Seungmin teased.

“Give me time, I know his weaknesses remember.”

Felix:

As soon as the group were called, Felix pulled you up to your feet so that he could hug you tightly. “Congratulations,” you quickly whispered before having to let him go.

With the band already on their way to the stage, Chan hung back, throwing his arm around Felix. “Y/N’s a great girl, your really lucky to have her support.”

“Where’s this suddenly come from?” Felix quietly responded.

Chan’s eyes flickered back to you momentarily, noticing you sat back down. “I saw the way you hugged her in amongst all of the chaos, you’ve never been like that.”

“She’s great,” Felix agreed, turning back to look at you too. “I couldn’t help myself; it was just first instinct to grab onto her and celebrate too.”

Chan smiled across to his best friend, “I think that should tell you a lot about how you feel about her and how important she is to your life too.”

“I’m sure there were plenty of cameras around to catch the moment too,” Felix sighed, unable to completely let himself go with excitement.

“Don’t worry about it, sometimes life is too important to worry.”

Seungmin:

Your eyes rolled as Seungmin stepped towards you, glancing into the living room before pressing a kiss to your lips. “I saw that! A voice yelled, however.

Seungmin turned first, noticing Changbin’s face peering just around the wall at you both. “Can I not even get a moment to myself in this place without someone there?”

“I just knew you’d kiss her,” Changbin excitedly responded.

You hit gently against Seungmin’s chest, “I thought you assured me that no one would be around to see the two of us, let alone in a situation such as this.”

“No one was supposed to be around,” Seungmin argued, only for Changbin to poke his tongue out at him. “But some people just can’t help themselves.”

Changbin continued to stare back innocently, “I just wanted to be the first to see the two of you and tell you what a cute couple you make with one another.”

“Is this your way of an apology?” Seungmin questioned, “or are you going to let me get to say goodbye to Y/N properly before she heads home.”

“I’ll leave you alone, it’ll be like I was never here.”

I.N:

A shy smile appeared on Jeongin’s face as you walked into their dressing room, “I’m glad you could make it,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes instantly locked with Minho who was stood just to the side. “Why are you smiling so wide?” You asked him as Jeongin pulled away, looking for himself.

“You look creepy,” Jeongin teased when he saw his wide grin.

Minho’s eyes flickered between the two of you, “I just enjoy seeing how in love you both are, and how comfortable you are to finally be affectionate with one another.”

“That’s why your smiling,” Jeongin groaned, pushing his elder against the arm. “I thought something really good had happened or something.

Minho looked wide eyed back across at him, “something good has just happened, the two of you. I don’t think I’ve said it before, but I’m really happy for you both.”

“Something about this doesn’t feel right,” you chuckled, glancing suspiciously at Minho. “Your never normally this nice, especially to me.”

“People change Y/N, especially at the sight of love.”

---

Masterlist

[ragingbookdragon]

The Four Corpsmen And Their Cheerleader

Lanternsis x Lanternfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I am obsessed with the Blue Lanterns you guys. Like they're legit my favorites. And since blue and green rings work best with one another...here's a story of that happening! Enjoy! -Thorne

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

The guys were at their wits end against the troop of Yellow Lanterns; which wasn’t a common occurrence—being at their wits end that is, Yellow Lantern attacks were actually fairly common. Kyle winced as another barrage of yellow energy blasts hit the construct he’d formed; the eyes of the other two Lanterns turned to him.

“You good, Kyle?” Guy asked, pressing his own hand to the construct to pour power into it.

He nodded, though the strain was evident on his face. “Yeah, I’m good.” He shut his eyes and forced another surge of power into the construct, keeping it up and around them. “Have a plan yet, John?”

Their leader shot a quick glance from the side. “Hal’s keeping them busy at the moment, but his fly-boy distractions are only going to last for so long.” He looked at them. “We need to—”

“Coming in hot!” They all looked towards their rings at the voice and then Hal darted over the side, grunting when a yellow flash shot him in the side. He sunk down the construct wall. “Okay,” he breathed out in shock. “New plan because distraction’s gone out the window as of now.” He glanced at Guy. “Kick their asses?”

Guy snorted, cracking his fists. “Thought you’d never ask, Jordan.” His green eyes fell on John. “Any big speeches before we go in?”

John merely grinned but before he could speak, a scream pierced from behind the construct wall, and everyone shot each other confused glances because no one had moved or formed a new construct besides the wall guarding them. Kyle warned them as he dropped the barrier and they all saw a blue figure darting between the yellow suited Lanterns.

A nova of aqua shot out from the mysterious person as they flew towards them and they rose, the blue cape billowing around them as they cheekily grinned, “I thought we agreed that the four corpsmen needed a cheerleader?”

Hal matched their smirk. “(Y/N)! What are you doing here!”

She merely raised her hand and cool aura surrounded them as their rings recharged, powers surging to the highest levels without overpowering them. “Well, it seems I’m bailing my big brother and his best friends out of trouble.” (Y/N) turned and raised her hands, surrounding her own body with an aura. “Leave now or face the four corpsmen and a Blue Lantern!”

The fear-wielders practically hissed at her, and she tipped her chin up. “Corpsmen! To me!”

“We’ve so gotta talk about you thinking you’re bigger than us,” Kyle griped, even as he flew to her right just as she’d ordered; she snorted as Hal took her left, Guy and John on either side of the other two men.

“Please, I don’t think, Kyle.” She winked at him. “I hope.” Reaching down, she took Kyle and Hal’s hands. “Mind if I borrow some power?”

They merely smiled in return, and she shut her eyes, drawing deep from the well of hope inside her. She let the power flow evenly between the men holding her hands who in turn took Guy and John’s hands, letting the power even between the five of them.

“In fearful day, in raging night, with strong hearts full, our souls ignite…” The Green Lanterns beside her joined in on the oath, all speaking in unison, mighty and powerful. “When all seems lost in the War of Light, look to the stars—” (Y/N) opened her eyes and they glowed a beautiful blue. “For hope burns bright!”

The cosmos seemed to still as the power exploded from their bodies, and they watched as strong green and blue arcs echoed outwards. The Yellow Lanterns across the expanse of space screamed as the waves hit them and soon, they were turning around and fleeing.

Satisfied that their enemy had been defeated, she let go of their hands and rose a few feet up and away from them, a mile-long grin on her face. “Now that that’s over with…how about we go back to Coast City and hit a bar?”

Each of them smiled and nodded at the idea, when suddenly Kyle pointed. “(Y/N) look out!”

She barely had time to spin around when the space around her warped and a Yellow Lantern came into sight. A gasp escaped her as they thrust out the construct blade in their hand into her gut and she bent forward. The men around her shouted and instantly the enemy was being yanked off her, probably being pummeled into a pulp, but all she was concerned about was the fizzling blade that disappeared from her gut.

Someone put their hand against her stomach, and she collapsed into their arms, realizing it was Kyle. “Hey, I’ve got you,” he worried, pressing tight to her abdomen. “You’re going to be okay, (Y/N).”

“Don’t get blood on your suit,” she joked, and he frowned at her, concentrating hard to heal the wound.

“Don’t make me laugh right now. This is serious.” He gazed into her eyes, whispering, “I can’t lose you.”

(Y/N) took his hand and forced him to look into her eyes. “Kyle Rayner, you needn’t be afraid when I’m here. Even if I’m wounded.” She smiled and leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. “Fear is merely the belief of imminent demise.” She shut her eyes and exhaled, the pulsing blue aura coming again as they held each other. “Hope, however, is the belief of imminent success. And I will always believe that.”

The aura was blinding and even the other men had to shield their eyes as it grew brighter and brighter, lasting for what seemed like forever, then it faded and (Y/N) stood before them, healed, as if she’d never experienced the wound—though her suit was new.

A deep blue, off the shoulder, long-sleeved dress/leotard that parted down the middle of her chest and back, turning sheer as it flowed down at her hips. Her gloves had morphed too, now a silver ring around her middle as the white sleeve stretched up her arm; her boots differed too, no longer closed around her feet. Instead, a silver ring was around her second toe, sapphires on the silver chain that wrapped around her ankle and calves. Her head was adorned with a silver and sapphire diadem, and around her neck was a silver band, and in the center was the symbol for the Blue Lanterns, growing bright as the day she received her ring.

(Y/N) opened her eyes and smiled, holding out her hand to Kyle. “Beloved.”

He matched her smile and pulled her into a hug, lifting her in the air—well, the space around them—and breathed, “(Y/N), you look like a goddess.”

“I’m your goddess,” she murmured, placing her hands on his shoulders.

They seemed to be lost in their own little world of love and devotion, and Guy blinked, looking over at John. “It’s so sweet, I almost don’t want to warn them that Hal here is about to blow his afterburner.” John cracked a toothy grin as Hal exploded in anger.

“CAN SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THE FUCK I’M LOOKING AT! BECAUSE IF IT’S ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS AND MY PRECIOUS BABY SISTER I’M LEGITIMATELY GOING TO COMMIT MURDER! QUIT FUCKING LAUGHING GUY! IT’S NOT FUCKING FUNNY, YOU DICK! WAIT! DID YOU FUCKING KNOW ABOUT THIS!”

John rested his hand on Hal’s shoulder. “Hal…everyone knows about Kyle and (Y/N).”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah, why do you think the two of them always ‘patrol’ together?” Guy asked.

“WELL, I DON’T KNOW! MAYBE BECAUSE OUR RINGS WORK BEST IN THE PRESENCE OF A BLUE RING, GUY! AND MAYBE I JUST ASSUMED THEY WERE SUPPORTING AND ENCOURAGING EACH OTHER!”

Guy snorted. “Yeah, ‘encouraging’. More like fuck—”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! KYLE YOU’RE DEAD!”

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (18)

   jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: suggestive themes, lots of teasing & domestic fluff 🥺

words: 7.1k

   chapter eighteen

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing that you felt wasn’t the disruptive rays of sun on your face – you’d forgotten to draw the curtains last night – but soft, almost feather-light touches of fingertips on your collarbones. And, even though you had never woken up next to anyone like this before, you didn’t flinch or pull away.

Instead, you opened your eyes and immediately regretted not doing it sooner. Jungkook was laying on the bed next to you, his eyes still hazy with sleep and his lips parted in concentration as he drew patterns on the edges of your skin.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice quiet. You weren’t sure if you were truly awake yet, or if this was one of the overly realistic dreams that you’d had before.

Jungkook looked at you, surprised to hear you speak – he hoped not to wake you – but relieved when he saw the soft smile on your face.

“Trying to make sure you’re really here,” he answered, his morning voice breathy and raspy, and enough to make your stomach clench and your smile spread in admiration, despite the corny words.

You closed your eyes again. “Did you practice that line?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, shameless. “How’d I do?”

You hummed in content. “The delivery was nice. But it’s all very cliché. I’d say a six out of ten.”

He chuckled lazily, pulling his hands away and prompting you to look up at him again, in a way a dog would look at the person who’d stopped scratching its’ head – disappointed and outraged by the audacity.

“I’ll do better next time,” Jungkook promised, almost naturally reaching for you again – this time, to brush an unruly strand of your hair away from your face.

“Next time?” you asked, not trying to insinuate anything other than your intention to find out his plans for the immediate future.

He read too much into it, however. He cocked an eyebrow as he lifted himself up on his elbows.

“I don’t like that voice,” he said. “You’re about to tell me I was just a one-night-stand for you, aren’t you?”

You laughed, turning on your back but still watching him. “I’ve known you for twenty-three years.”

“Not like that, you didn’t.”

You looked away, your face warm. The smile on your lips was relentless, however – it gave no opportunity for you to pretend like the stressful night last night, and the way it ended, wasn’t a pleasant visitor in your memory.

“What do you want to do today?” Jungkook asked, feeling his arms go numb from supporting all of his weight, but not caring about it too much because, this way, he could see you better.

“Not a thing,” you told him, completely serious. “I want to stay in bed.”

“Alright,” he said, laying back down next to you as he decided firmly, “that’s what we’re doing then.”

You turned your head to face him. “Your bandmates will kill you.”

“That’s only if I go home,” he said, not seeming the slightest bit fazed about his impending doom. “If I don’t, then I’m safe.”

His indifference got you to smile; the relationship dynamics between Jungkook and his bandmates resembled a sibling connection far more than just a friendship. Still, he needed to do right by them.

“You can’t avoid them for the rest of your life,” you said.

“You underestimate me,” he shot back, very proud of himself.

“Jungkook,” you countered seriously.

“Well, I won’t really avoid them for the rest of my life,” he defended, “but maybe for the rest of the weekend.”

“Jungkook—”

“I liked the sound of my name on your lips a lot more last night,” he pointed out, deliberately distracting you.

He ran his tongue over his lower lip as if he could physically see the bolt of electricity that his words sent right into your stomach. He couldn’t get used to witnessing how the effect he had on you manifested on your face.

“Hmm,” you resisted the pull of his eyes. “Did you rehearse that, too?”

“No,” he replied, leaning in closer, “believe it or not, a lot of this charm comes naturally to me.”

“Must’ve had a lot of practice, then,” you spoke, your voice so quiet, it was barely above a whisper, as his face lingered a few millimetres away from yours.

“Or a lot of daydreams,” he said, “and night dreams. And evening dreams. And morning—”

You ended up having to be the one who kissed him – to shut him up before you admitted that his cheesy pick-up lines made your traitor heart flutter; but it wasn’t so much the lines, as it was the undisguised fondness in his eyes, really. Smiling into the kiss, Jungkook was quick to take over by touching your cheek with his hand lightly, and shifting your face into his so he could deepen the kiss.

You pulled away with a half-hearted whine, your lips smacking as you broke the kiss. “It’s too early. I haven’t showered or even brushed my teeth yet.”

Jungkook looked absurdly offended. “You kissed me!”

“To get you to shut up,” you clarified.

“Oh, so the sound of my voice annoys you?” he jabbed, “very well. Let’s go.”

He rolled away from you and sat up in bed.

You watched him, confused and somewhat disappointed that his plans, clearly, did not include staying in bed the whole day, after all. “Go where? Where are you—”

Jungkook stood up and pulled you by your hands until you were sitting up. You refused to stand until he answered you and he clicked his tongue at your resistance.

“We,” he said, emphasizing the plural word as he gave you one more pull, forcing you to climb off the bed, “are going to take a shower.”

It already felt unusual – and uncomfortable now that it was daytime – to stand around in your room next to Jungkook, dressed in virtually nothing because you hadn’t bothered to find your respective clothes last night: he gave up after he untangled his boxers from his jeans, and you settled for his shirt. Now that he’d mentioned a shared shower, you started to feel even more self-conscious.

“We are—no, what are you saying?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest defensively as Jungkook realized he regretted tossing you his shirt last night – he didn’t want it back now, not unless you were in it.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand and heading for the door of your dorm.

You stayed put. “Together?”

“You’re not very sharp in the mornings, are you?” he teased and then smirked before you could punch him. “I like that. Yes. Together.”

He kept going – or, rather, tried to keep going because you still weren’t moving – and when he turned to look at you, exasperation was clear in his eyes.

“Jungkook, the showers here are communal,” you told him.

“Even better!” he replied. Not even an earthquake would have changed his mind.

“How is that better?” you frowned.

“I don’t mind an audience.”

You punched his shoulder. “I mind!”

Laughing, Jungkook let go of one of your hands and rubbed his shoulder.

“Well, it’s seven in the morning right now,” he said, not checking the time on his phone again – he’d done that as soon as he woke up, and he decided to abandon the device for the rest of the day. “I’m sure everyone’s still asleep.”

“Seven,” you repeated, all oxygen leaving your lungs until you felt like a deflated balloon. “Oh, God. No wonder I feel so tired. Why were you awake this early?”

“Why would I waste my time sleeping when I’m with you?” Jungkook asked with a face so straight, you’d have really believed all of this came to him naturally. “Now come on, let’s go.”

And you went with him – mostly because he refused to let you refuse, but also because your refusal wasn’t entirely genuine – almost forgetting to grab the towels and the soap on your way out of the door.

You were beyond surprised to learn that the sight of a boy, taking a confident stroll down the hallway, dressed in his boxers and nothing else, didn’t make you cringe and look away at all. If anything, the dorm doors and the people living behind them was what seemed out of place here, because Jungkook – guiding you towards the communal showers – looked like he was right in his element.

“You ever worry your cockiness is going to get you in trouble?” you asked when Jungkook pulled the door open. You exhaled in relief at the sight of the empty shower stalls all around you.

“No,” he answered, smiling. “You do the worrying for me.”

You rolled your eyes. “You give me too much credit. I’m clearly letting you do whatever you want at this point.”

“Oh, so, does that permission include doing whatever I want to you?” he was grinning as he pulled you into the closest stall and pressed you against the tiled wall, forgetting the curtains or anyone who may have walked in at any moment.

“Maybe not while we’re in public,” you replied, managing to push him off of you – and ignoring his disappointed pout, “it’s highly unhygienic.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” he countered while you busied yourself with the shower curtain which had one of its’ plastic hoops stuck on the rod and wasn’t moving.

“Well, then, don’t look so sad,” you said, giving him a look over your shoulder – immediately, he smirked at your tone – and tugging the shower curtain harder until it finally slid down the rod and separated the two of you from the rest of the room. “You should have been prepared for this.”

“You’re the one who has to be prepared for everything,” he pointed out. “I just go with the flow.”

“That’s not always a good thing,” you countered, crossing your arms. “As I’m sure you know by now—”

Not waiting until you finished lecturing him, Jungkook settled for the most childish way to change the topic and turned the shower on. You gasped in surprise when the cold water splashed you, soaking the front of your – his – shirt completely.

“Jungkook!” you scolded, jumping away from the direct stream of water while he, predictably, laughed.

“What?” he asked, all sugar and spice and everything nice. “We’re in the shower.”  

Then, to further prove his point that he hadn’t done anything wrong by getting you wet, even if you were still in your clothes, he turned the shower head towards himself and brought his hands through his hair until he was completely soaked.

You were frozen for a minute – which was exactly what he’d intended – watching Jungkook act out a shampoo commercial right in front of you.

“It’s not showering if you’re wearing all of your clothes,” you muttered under your breath finally, once you painfully tore your eyes away from the droplets of water that traced every crevice of his skin; a cascading waterfall that framed his half-naked body.

“Ah, so you want me to undress!” he translated excitedly and awarded you with a wink that could have made the devil himself flustered. “Should have said so from the beginning.”

“I wasn’t—”

Leaning down under the running water to take his boxers off, Jungkook promised, “your wish is my command.”

After a whole lot of giggling and slipping, and very little actual, legitimate scrubbing and cleaning, you and Jungkook walked out of the shower hand-in-hand, with smiles on your faces. 

The sight of the pure joy in both of your eyes as you crossed the hallway back towards your dorm room, left little to the imagination, but you did not run into anyone, so, for all you knew, no one, aside from the two of you, was aware of what had happened in the shower this morning.

In fact, you loved the idea that you and Jungkook were the only people here – there wasn’t a single passerby, a single (un)bothered observer, or anyone else who could have otherwise interrupted you two. It was just you and him. Finally, you-and-him.

“I’ve never lived in a dorm,” Jungkook said once you were back in your room as he used a separate towel to tousle his hair, splashing water around like a shaggy dog. “But I really enjoy the showers here.”

“You got to experience them at a good time,” you replied. “It’s a lot less fun when there are people in every stall.”

“Hmm, I bet. And less fun without me, too, yeah?”

You gave him a look as you unwrapped your hair from the towel on top of your head. “You’re too full of yourself.”

“Me?” Jungkook feigned innocence. His angelic smile was a clear indication that some inane entity had possessed him today and he was absolutely not going to quit teasing you anytime soon. “I’m the most underrated—”

You interrupted, “self-absorbed, arrogant, inconsiderate—”

“—person there is. Hold on now,” he took a threatening step towards you, raising his eyebrows, “did you just call me inconsiderate?”

“Well, you rarely think about other people’s feelings when you do something,” you retaliated and Jungkook – who enjoyed the proud smirk on your lips, but only because he couldn’t wait to wipe it off with a kiss – pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“You mistake my intentions,” he said. “I always think about—”

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, cutting him off mid-excuse. You turned around in the direction of the sound, breaking eye contact, and Jungkook groaned in disappointment.

“Now who,” he demanded, “is bold enough to ruin my monologue about how caring and selfless I am?”

You scoffed, side-eyeing him before you reached for your phone and, much to your surprise, saw a text from Namjoon – who was wondering if you’d found Jungkook last night and if he was alright.

“If it’s Yoongi, tell him that yes, I’m avoiding him, and no, I’m not coming home today,” Jungkook said after noticing the way you bit your lip once you read the text.

“It’s not Yoongi. But you should probably call him,” you said absentmindedly as you tried to compose a text message that involved the right amount of gratitude for Namjoon’s help last night, but also just enough cold politeness, so that Jungkook wouldn’t have any reason to cause a scene. He already had a wary expression on his face after you said it wasn’t his bandmate who’d texted you.

Then, you stopped typing and raised your head to look at the boy, sitting on the bed across from you. “Wait. What do you mean you’re not coming home?”

He shrugged, lying down on your bed. “I’m staying here.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Did we agree on that?”

“Yes,” he replied, “with our bodies.”

You grimaced. “I’m not sure—”

“Oh, you can’t kick me out,” he said – ordered, really – as he patted the bed next to him waiting for you to sit. You did. He continued, “we’ve got so many things we still need to do. All of those movies we haven’t gotten to watch because we keep doing something else when we’re together,” pausing for a moment, Jungkook snickered, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing something else again—did you just laugh at me?”

You bit your tongue, trying to conceal your smile, but the playful mood Jungkook was in amused you too much.

“I just exhaled,” you replied, returning your attention to your phone as you pressed send. “Now, what were you saying about—”

“Who was that?” he asked with a nod at your phone now that you’d finished typing.

“Hmm?” you mumbled, not because you hadn’t heard him, but because something about the way your heart skipped a beat at his question told you that he wasn’t going to like your answer, and you needed to win some time to find a way to soften the blow. “Just Namjoon. He was worried about you.”

Jungkook scoffed but, thankfully, didn’t immediately throw a tantrum.

“Doubt that,” he said instead, with dripping skepticism. “We don’t know each other, why would he care—”

“You went off-the-grid last night,” you said, aware that the patient voice you tried to demonstrate may have come off as accusing. That wasn’t your intention but, now that the conversation came up, you thought it was fair he knew that his actions affected more people than just you and him. “It doesn’t matter if he knows you or not. You could have been dead in a ditch.”

“Is that what Yoongi suggested?” Jungkook inquired in a disgruntled tone.

“No,” you said even though it sort of was. “But we were all concerned for you. Namjoon included.”

He rolled his eyes – partially because he didn’t like to be reminded of the hassle he’d caused last night, but also because he had a hard time believing that people who didn’t know him were genuinely worried about his safety, when his own friends, aside from his bandmates, couldn’t have cared less.

“I know you want to see the best in people, but—”

“I’m not seeing the best in him,” you disagreed, “in fact, we got into an argument at the barbecue yesterday and I realized that there’s more to him than I’d previously thought. But when I told him about you, he was really concerned. He’s the one who drove me back to campus to look for you.”

Digesting this new information for a moment, Jungkook swallowed.

Then, when you thought you were going to have to explain your decision to accept Namjoon’s offer to drive you home, Jungkook dismissed the whole thing.

“So,” he said, “Namjoon isn’t who you thought he was, then?”

“He—that’s not what I meant,” you replied, surprised by the direction the conversation had taken, but suspicious when you saw Jungkook smile victoriously.

“No, I’m curious,” he encouraged, sitting up and scooting closer to you – so close, in fact, that you could see the glistening drops of water that he hadn’t wiped off from his chest, “has he let you down? Are you thinking you shouldn’t be friends anymore?”

Before you could be any more distracted – if not by his words, then by his glimmering skin or by his sneaky, yet lovable, smile – you cleared your throat and looked away.

“You need to call Yoongi,” you said, standing your ground, “or else you’ll be the one who won’t have any friends.”

“Eh, knowing me, that’s inevitable,” he waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “I just want to have you.”

Little needle stabs poked at your stomach after he said this. You blinked, preparing to answer, only to realize that his quick wit had momentarily rendered you completely speechless. Jungkook used that to his advantage.

“I’m thinking breakfast,” he said, changing the topic so quickly, it was like he had the attention span of a squirrel. “Do you have any food here?”

Deeply impressed with his determination to slither out of this situation unharmed – because Yoongi sure was going to rip him a new one – you stuttered, “n-no, wait. I mean, we have milk and—”

“That’s what I thought,” he replied, nodding to himself. Then, he stood up from the bed and ordered, “get dressed. We’re going grocery shopping.”

“Grocery—is that necessary?” you crossed your arms, watching Jungkook pace the room and, most likely, regret his decision to spray his own T-shirt with water because he did not have anything else to wear. “I always have cereal for breakfast.”

“It’s not just cereal we need to think of,” he pointed out, choosing to just settle for that T-shirt. It was supposed to be warm outside anyway. “We have to stock up on food so we wouldn’t have to leave this room for the rest of the day.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You were serious about that?”

“I’m serious about everything,” he retorted and then, untying the towel on his waist in order to put his jeans on, he nodded at you and urged, “come on.”

Not moving one bit, you declared, “call Yoongi first.”

“I’ll call him later.”

“Call him now,” you insisted. “He’s been worried sick since last night.”

“He’s probably still hungover, I’ll call him later—”

“Jungkook,” you said, your voice firm. You didn’t want to enter another conflict with him but, now that you two were obviously going to be spending a lot of time together, it was important for you both that Jungkook actually took responsibility for the things that he did. “He didn’t sound drunk at all when he called me last night. Call him.”

As stubborn as he’d ever been, Jungkook shrugged – and then nearly toppled over as he lost his balance while pulling his jeans up his legs – and said very casually, “then maybe he was high and you couldn’t tell over the phone.”

You could have laughed at this.

“Oh, no, trust me. I’ve talked to a high Yoongi once before,” you said. “I can tell.”

He had several other arguments up his sleeve – excuses were his specialty – but you looked determined to shoot down every single one of them and, at the end of the day, Jungkook didn’t want to spend the rest of the day arguing with you about this.

“Fine,” he gave in. “Give me five minutes and a soundproof room.”

You knew this wasn’t a compromise – Jungkook didn’t look like he’d changed his mind and suddenly understood that he had to do this; he looked like he was only doing this as a favor to you – but it was still something, so you crawled down the bed towards where he’d left his phone last night, and handed it to him.

“He’s not going to yell—okay, he probably is,” you admitted, “but you deserve it. Go talk to him in the hall, though. I’ll get dressed.”

This intrigued Jungkook and he took one last chance to stall, “ooh, can I watch?”

“No,” you answered and got off the bed, watching him buckle his belt. “You focus on your redemption.”

“My redemption,” he repeated, mocking the pretentious word and still refusing to move.

Ignoring that, you pushed him out of your dorm and into the hallway and, waiting for a second to make sure he really was dialing Yoongi’s phone number – “I’m doing it, alright? But if you’d rather I helped you get dressed—” – you shut the door and returned to your room to find some clothes.

When Jungkook returned several minutes later, he looked more solemn than when he’d left, but the glint in his eyes wasn’t too far gone.

“Did he give it to you good?” you asked, as you rolled up the sleeves of your cardigan.

“Actually, I think he was holding himself back a little,” Jungkook replied, scratching his right ear to indicate just how much yelling he’d had to endure out in the hall. Then, inhaling and seemingly dropping everything he’d just heard, he asked, “so, you ready to go? I was thinking it’d be nice to have some eggs.”

You spent the rest of Saturday in your dorm room, being about as unproductive as it was possible for two people to be. You got through two movies (you’d tried to watch five; Jungkook had no patience to sit through the rest) and finished a full bag of popcorn (you’d opened three; the rest of it ended up on the floor of your room as you played a very unsuccessful game of throw-and-catch and then, consequently, throw-and-try-to-hit).

You lost count of how many tears of laughter you’d shed. Or how many times you’d punched his shoulder. Or how many times he cut you off with a kiss when you gave more attention to the movie than to him.

“You’re like a retriever,” you told Jungkook that night, when the two of you were laying on your backs, side-to-side, your hands and hearts intertwined. “You’re hyper-active, unpredictable, and you need constant attention.”

“Also self-absorbed, arrogant, and inconsiderate,” he added, mentioning all the colorful adjectives you’d called him over the course of this one day.

You exhaled in a half-snort, trying to pull your hand out of his, but failing when he refused to let go, pulling on your hand until you turned to your side to face him instead.

“Is there anything good about me?” he asked you.

You squinted. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

Jungkook smiled, shaking his head. “No. I’m just asking. Because if there’s not, then why do you put up with me?”

“Because you’re trying,” you offered, “because you never give up. You work hard, you’re dedicated and determined. You’ve always got your eyes on the prize—”

He cut you off, “that sounds like the opposite of all the negative things you’d said about me.”

You didn’t see the problem there and you shrugged your shoulders.

“There are two sides to every coin,” you said, unsure if he expected you to shower him in compliments at all times, regardless if he deserved them or not. Actually, knowing Jungkook, that was probably precisely what he expected.

“You didn’t call me funny,” he pointed out then.

“Because you’re not,” you dead-panned.

Jungkook scoffed and looked away from you, declaring with great dignity, “I happen to think I have a great sense of humor.”

“You happen to think a lot,” you mumbled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You snickered. “Here’s another one – you can always turn a negative situation into something better.”

Jungkook lowered his eyes to your intertwined hands, the smile on his face growing fainter, even if the atmosphere in the room remained as laid-back as before.

“Not always,” he said in a hushed tone, not daring to pose the risk of ruining the good-natured banter.

Even though he was careful, it was still obvious that you’ve hit a sensitive spot. Not having any intention to do so, you’ve brought back the fact that, in all twenty-three years of his life, Jungkook hadn’t managed to turn the negative opinion of his father into something better.

“But you always try,” you said, less confident now that you saw how easy it was to trigger something that was too big to fix with just a compliment.

“That’s not enough sometimes,” he said, purposefully avoiding sad undertones and, this way, making himself sound even sadder.

“And other times,” you argued, just as persistent as he was, “it’s more than enough. Stop painting everything in black and white, you always do that.”

Noticing that this was turning into a fight that neither of you would win, Jungkook looked at you with a half-smile on his face. “I thought I always turned the negative situations into positive.”

“You don’t do that when it comes to you,” you replied. “Your biggest flaw is being too hard on yourself.”

In the time that he’s been a member of Parental Advisory – and even before, when he was just an heir of a multi-millionaire – Jungkook had had nearly every single one of his flaws pointed out: none of them were new, he was already aware of them all.

He worked on some of them – the ones that he thought would genuinely help him improve: practicing new singing techniques, making sure his band was his first priority, learning how to communicate with his audiences and how to write lyrics that held more impact.

He’d never had anyone tell him that he tried too hard. And he’d never realized that that was true this quickly, either.

Jungkook didn’t consider himself to be someone who wanted to accommodate others. He never followed the societal standards if they contrasted with his wishes. He didn’t care about what other people thought of him; as it turned out, he worried about his own perception of himself instead.

“Maybe it helps me improve,” he said, not feeling like he deserved the credit for this particular flaw when he hadn’t succeeded in changing himself for the better yet.

“Maybe,” you agreed, giving his hand a supportive squeeze. “But give yourself a break sometimes. You’re really not all bad.”

“I needed you.”

You were teasing him and expected him to bite back in an equal way, but the serious tone of his voice took you by surprise. “What?”

“I needed you,” he repeated, “to be able to turn the negative into positive. You’re my better half.”

Despite the beating of your heart and the warmth that spread to your face and forced you to smile, you still shook your head.

“I’m not,” you said, meaning it, “you’re a full person. Not just a half.”

You thought he’d let go of you so he could protest and insist that he was right, but he did no such thing. Instead, he held you tighter and, for a moment or two, being pressed so tightly against each other really did make you feel as though you were two individual parts of the same set – good on your own, but great when paired together.

Jungkook didn’t let go of you the whole Saturday night or the next morning, or the afternoon. That made your normal, everyday functions very complicated – like brushing your teeth, when he was hugging you from behind and purposefully snoozing with his head on your shoulder – but you’d have been out of your mind to complain.

When you arrived to his parents’ house for your Sunday night dinner, Jungkook still had one arm around your waist, as if touching you came naturally to him and he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

As soon as his mother opened the door for you two, she could tell that there was something different about you – maybe it was the fresh glow of having spent the whole weekend locked up together, or maybe she could read your minds – but the wide smiles on your faces were too beautiful of a sight for her to question it.

“Come in,” she encouraged, “it’s lovely to see you, like always.”

“Ah, you’re here already!” Jungkook’s father climbed down the stairs just as you two passed the threshold into the house. Feeling the way Jungkook tensed – his usual reaction – you tried to make up for it by smiling widely.

“Hello,” you said, suddenly feeling ridiculous to be grinning like this for no reason.

“Son,” his father said, acknowledging Jungkook’s presence with a nod and earning one from him in return. “Are you feeling better, dear?”

You didn’t realize his question was directed at you so, for a moment, the four of you lingered awkwardly in the hallway while you waited for Jungkook to answer before you realized that, for one, Jungkook’s father had never called his son “dear”, and, furthermore, it was you who had supposedly gotten sick in the middle of the company barbecue this Friday.

“Oh!” you blinked, trying to remember if Namjoon mentioned what sort of illness he was going to give as your excuse. “Yes, thank you. I’ve gotten some rest and I-I’m much better now.”

“That’s good!” Jungkook’s mother said. Nor her, nor her husband seemed suspicious even though Jungkook inhaled sharply, attracting their attention. “We were very worried when you left early – if you’d stayed just a second longer, we could have driven you home ourselves, we were going to go back anyway.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” you replied, aware that Jungkook didn’t know about this part of your Friday night – he hadn’t asked if you’d left the barbecue early – and, evidently, learning of this right here, right now, didn’t exactly please him. “My friend from university was there and he was kind enough to offer me a ride back to campus.”

Jungkook’s father cleared his throat – an involuntary reaction, similar to that of his son’s before – and gave you a kind, almost apologetic look, “if Jungkook had gone with you, he could have been the one who drove you home.”

That offended you as much as it offended Jungkook – but for different reasons. Jungkook’s dignity was obviously hurt because he had, once again, let his father down. But you were displeased because his father made it sound as though you needed a chaperone. As though you were some damsel in distress.

“No, really, I’m glad he didn’t go. I wouldn’t have wanted him to leave early,” you ended up saying, your polite nature persevering. You could understand Namjoon a lot more now – it was easy to let your real feelings slip if you weren’t paying attention to what you were saying, but hiding them under a mask of good manners and respect, was far more beneficial in the long run. “And, actually, it was even better that he was back on campus, because he helped me out a lot this weekend. Really, I probably wouldn’t have recovered as quickly as I did if it weren’t for him.”

You weren’t just saying that to make Jungkook look better – but there was still gratitude in his eyes when you met his gaze – because he had truly turned your weekend into a time of healing just by spending it with you.

“That’s wonderful,” Jungkook’s mother was the one who responded – Jungkook’s father just smiled mysteriously – as she brought a hand through her son’s hair in adoration, “let’s head to the dining room now, alright? The food is getting cold. You can tell me how your semester’s going. I assume you’ve got finals coming up soon, isn’t that right?”

That was right – well, sort of; you still had about a month of classes left – and it prompted you to start a conversation about school, which allowed Jungkook to casually bring up the fact that he’d knocked his professors off their feet by passing all the tests that they had predicted he would fail. His father, of course, did not express his surprise or say anything encouraging, but he gave a very impressed nod and that was more than enough.

The dinner only seemed to last a few minutes – it flew by like it always did – and you found yourself in your already usual position: offering Jungkook’s mother to clean up, while she forbade you from doing anything and insisted you stayed back and relaxed.

Relaxing was what you and Jungkook had done here last Sunday – before his mother knocked on the door of his bedroom and interrupted you two – so, not very excited to have history repeat itself, you didn’t mind when Jungkook made an excuse to leave early today.

His mother seemed sad to hear that – dessert was just as important part of dinner as the actual main course – but she didn’t push you to stay. Maybe because she could see the look in Jungkook’s eyes and she knew him well enough to understand that, although he had a sweet tooth, her son would have gladly rejected dessert just to get to spend more time alone with you.

However, alone time wasn’t the reason why Jungkook wanted to leave early – you learned that as soon as you sat down in his car and saw his hand lingering by the ignition, not ready to put the key in just yet.

“You okay?” you asked tentatively, already trying to analyze the dinner in your mind, hoping to come across a moment that could have stuck with him.

“I didn’t know,” Jungkook said finally, “that you had to leave early. I’d assumed the barbecue ended and that was why you got back to the dorm.”

You lowered your eyes, realizing that your failed attempt to get to the bottom of things on Friday night – it was generous to even call it an attempt, considering that you were ripping each other’s clothes off within twenty minutes of seeing each other – had now caught up to you.

“Yeah,” you said. “I got Yoongi’s call in the middle of dinner, and told him I’d go back to campus to look for you. He told me you went missing, I wasn’t going to sit around eating grilled sausages and wait for you to turn up.”

That wasn’t exactly what Jungkook was trying to talk to you about – he’d already put the pieces together – and, taking a moment to admit to himself that he did feel guilty about this, he exhaled before speaking again.

“You could have told my dad the truth,” he said. “Or you could have left without bothering with an excuse, he would have probably assumed it was my fault, anyway.”

“I’m not stupid,” you replied, “you’re trying to make progress with your father. You may not be doing very well, but why would I halt your process? I’m on your side, remember?”

He nodded. “I remember. I’m just saying, y-you didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to stand up for me tonight, either.”

“Technically, I did,” you replied, smiling now. “We started to go to these Sunday night dinners for a reason.”

For a good minute, Jungkook really struggled to follow your train of thought. Even though it couldn’t have been more than a month, these dinners with you had already become a part of his routine, so the fact that you were, theoretically, only here to prove Jungkook’s maturity to his father, seemed very obsolete now.

“Well,” Jungkook said, considering your new situation. Chuckling lightly, he added, “that’s stupid now, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Pretending to be dating when we actually are.”

Catching the perfect opening, you teased, “we are?”

He gave you a look that dared you to test him.

“We haven’t been on one date,” you defended – sensibly so, really.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes as he looked at you, wanting to point out the flaws in your words, but having a hard time finding any, because, in the normal sense of the word, you hadn’t actually gone on any dates with him.

“We went to my party last weekend,” he still tried, figuring that the term ‘date’, when used loosely, could really mean just two people hanging out together.

You scrunched your nose, enjoying this game. “Was that a date?”

“We spent the whole weekend together,” he tried again.

“Was that a—?”

“You are my girlfriend,” Jungkook cut you off finally, his voice forceful and determined. “And you have no say in that matter.”

He looked you right in the eyes as he said this – boldly challenging your undeniable authority over this moment in the car – and you tried not to, but still ended up laughing.

“You’re taking away my freedom of choice,” you said.

“Are you saying,” he asked in a teary tone because his go-to maneuver in cases like this, was extracting pity, “you don’t want to be with me?”

“I’m not,” you replied, resisting him with surprising ease. You’d taken a page from his book and you were almost gloating as you watched how flustered he became with every word that you said, “I’m just wondering why you can’t ask me out like a normal person. Like someone who hadn’t known me for years.”

He observed your face for a second, making sure that you were serious – you were – and then sighed so deeply, it was like he was hoping to cleanse his dignity of whatever damage your words had done to it.

“You like me like this, don’t you?” he asked, aware that you had turned the tables on him.

“Like what?” you were still grinning. You absolutely liked him like this. “Do you think you’re too good to ask someone to be your girlfriend? Is that beneath you somehow or—”

“I love you,” he said sternly, cutting you off so quickly and successfully that your throat dried up as soon as he said this. “Please be my girlfriend.”

Biting the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from smiling at the juxtaposition of his pink cheeks and his determined eyes – while also, cringing at the cliché words that you’d forced him to say – you nodded and did not say anything else.

“What, that’s all I get?” Jungkook widened his eyes, scoffing in disbelief. “I ask you to—and you nod your head?”

You couldn’t help yourself as you replied, “I’ll think about it.”

Completely flummoxed, Jungkook examined your features without blinking or breathing. You really did have him right where you wanted him. If someone had told him that the reason why you stopped being friends once upon a time, was because he had too much influence over you, he wouldn’t have believed them.

“Enjoy this while you can,” he said a minute later, shaking his head and putting the key in ignition before finally starting the car. “You have endless weekends like this ahead of you, try to keep me on my toes.”

This didn’t put out your fire as you continued, “is that a challenge?”

“That,” he said, his voice more promising than threatening, “is a warning.”

You laughed before relenting just because you didn’t think it was fair to have his confession linger in the air like that, “I love you, too, Jungkook.”

He rolled his eyes, backing out of the street where he’d parked his car. “Oh, now you say that.”

“Better late than never,” you pointed out in a laid-back tone.

“Better all the time than late,” he retorted.

“You’re needy,” you said.

Jungkook didn’t skip a beat as he drove down the street back towards your campus, and still found enough time to glance at you, “you’re uncooperative.”

“You’re prideful,” you shot back.

“You’re controlling.”

“You’re reckless.”

“I love you,” he challenged.

“I love you more,” you fought back.

Jungkook cocked an eyebrow at this. “Don’t go there. I like to win and I am not above proving to you how much I love you the whole night tonight.”

A simmering fire in your stomach suddenly erupted into a bright flame.

“I have an early class tomorrow morning,” you said, more of a reminder to yourself than to him. “We both do, actually.”

He merely scoffed. “You think that would stop me?”

You shook your head, chuckling. “Just drive. Like you said, we have endless weekends like this ahead of us.”

And, even though you’d spent the bigger part of the weekend bickering and bantering, teasing and playing, both of you felt yourselves smile at the prospect of getting to do this again at the end of the next week. And then, at the end of the week that came after that. And then, the week after that. And after that.

At the end of every week, really. For as long as you wanted – be it the rest of your lives, or until the world ended.

keep reading | masterlist

[thesevenumbrellas]

@random-nerd-3 came up with a dark!AU where Caleb is emotionally abusive towards Willie, so I came up with a few hc.

TW: ABUSE, PANIC ATTACKS

We definitely see the emotional manipulation already in canon with him using Alex against him and also threatening to stop him skateboarding.

Caleb convincing Willie that it’s for his own good because if he left he might get in trouble and he’s already died once and he let everyone down when he died, hurt so many people from being stupid and careless, wouldn’t it just be better if Caleb was in charge?

Willie breaking down one day because he’s so used to being told he’s doing everything wrong that it’s moved past anxiety to just acceptance. Like he knows he does everything wrong so there is no changing it so he doesn’t care. But Alex is so genuine with his compliments that it’s overwhelming. Usually he just brushes them off but one day Alex looks so so earnest and just says “you’re amazing” and that’s all it takes for Willie to start sobbing because he’s not and he doesn’t understand why Alex believes that. He feels like he’s lying to Alex somehow but he doesn’t know how. And that’s when Alex realizes that Caleb is a problem.

Willie who doesn’t realize that Caleb is emotional abusive until Alex explains that’s exactly what his own parents did to him. And Willie being angry for Alex but can’t be angry for himself. Because he’s so used to it and doesn’t understand that he is worth the anger.

Willie arguing with Alex that Alex doesn’t get it but Alex is super patient and understanding cuz he went through the same thing so he slowly goes over every single reason why Willie deserves love and safety.

Willie being touchstarved from after years of being locked up in the club without anyone.

Alex starts to always *always* touch Willie even if it’s just a hand gently on his arm or their pinkies linked. They never let go of each other.

EXCEPT when Willie gets overwhelmed and then he will tap Alex twice to show that he needs a break and Alex will let go immediately.

Willie asking Alex permission to do simple things like enter the room or offer his opinion but it’s done really subtle so Alex doesn’t even notice until AFTER the big talk and he has to sit Willie down AGAIN and explain he doesn’t have to ask permission because they always want to hear his thoughts. And this turns into Alex encouraging the band to ask Willies’ opinions on stuff so THEN Willie starts offering lyrics or places to play and becomes a huge influence in their music.

Willie not liking to stay inside even to listen to them practice because he’s conditioned to think of inside as belonging to Caleb where as outside the club he’s free. Which is also why he only likes to break into empty places even tho lifers can’t see him anyway. So Alex notices that and asks if they can practice with the garage door open and they move the couch outside so then Willie starts watching more.

And Carlos joins and even tho Carlos doesn’t know Willie is there they sit next to each other all the time and Willie will joke along with him.

Setback days where they go find a forest or somewhere outside away from people. Alex skips practice. They go and lay in the grass and sometimes they hold hands or cuddle but sometimes Willie can’t stand it so then they just lay side by side. Sometimes they talk together but sometimes Willie cant even speak, so the Alex fills in the gaps. He tells Willie every funny story he can remember from practice and every good moment they’ve had as a band.

Willie has learned not to believe words, because Caleb lies all the time. He doesn’t believe it when caleb says good job or “I’m not mad” because it’s always a double sided sword. So when Alex figures this out they develop a touch system instead. Two taps means he’s overwhelmed, but there’s more. Two brushes on the arm is him asking Alex if he’s mad, and then alex will either verbalize what’s bothering him (usually anxiety wise) or squeeze willies wrist once.

Another sign they develop later on is when willie isn’t sure what the boys are talking about. Like if they’re being affectionate with each other but Willie doesn’t quite understand. Or if they’re joking with him and he doesn’t quite get it. He has literally not socialized with anyone “his age” in decades and Caleb was always dangerous to talk to. The dancers and singers knew better than to develop friendships. To Willie starts to tap Alex three times if he needs something explained later. Then Alex will have to explain sometimes something simple “no Reggie and Luke don’t actually hate each other they were just bickering over song titles it’s okay they’ll be best friends again after they wrestle over it.” But sometimes it’s heartbreaking. “No Luke still likes you even though you didn’t laugh at his joke fast enough. He didn’t notice I promise and even if he did, that’s not something he would ever be angry at you for.”

Willie doesn’t have panic attacks like Alex does so he never had any idea they were panic attacks. There’s no actual panic. In fact it’s the opposite. He goes emotionally numb and just shuts down. He can’t talk, can’t do much, he just feels as if he’s shut up in his own brain. So when this first happens Alex recognizes it instantly because at least some of it is familiar. He poofs Willie away without a word to the boys and brings them to a quiet spot. Then he steps a few feet away and just talks Willie through it. It’s over an hour later when Willie feels well enough to actually speak but then he’s brushing it off like “oh I’m fine that just happens sometimes.” And Alex has to explain “Babe that was a panic attack.”

After that they add ANOTHER signal of just one tug on a sleeve. They both use it on each other and it means “I am about to have a panic attack.” Then they’ll make some sort of excuse and poof the other out

Anyway Willie relearning what love and safety means with Alex there to support him.

[writertitan]

Midnight

pairing: eren x reader

themes: modern au, new year’s eve, angsty if you squint

A chorus of cheers erupted almost as soon as you crossed the threshold of Sasha’s home, though from the clinks and clatters of glass and the smell of bourbon, you could tell that the cheers were in celebration of something other than your unnoticed arrival.  

“Welcome!” Sasha greeted you with a warm smile and bright eyes, tugging you further into her equally warm and bright house, where everyone was already a little tipsy, a little rowdy. You didn’t want to look visibly nervous, but there you were, shoulders up to your ears and eyes shifting back and forth, looking for that mess of dark hair, those green eyes that pierced through you and everyone else. You nearly jumped when Sasha’s whisper danced into your ear. “Don’t worry, he’s not here and I don’t think he’ll show up.” 

“I wasn’t looking for him,” you mumbled, a little indignant, and then rolled your eyes when you saw Sasha’s knowing smirk. “I just don’t want things to be awkward, Sasha. It’s been months since we’ve even seen each other, let alone been in the same space all night. I guess I’m just...a little worried. Well, I was. Are you sure he’s not coming?” 

“Doubt it,” she says, that smirk still plastered on her face. “Why? Does that make you saaaad?” 

“Shut up,” you groaned, but you yanked on her ponytail playfully to let her know you weren’t upset as you walked past her, ready to pour some bourbon for yourself to ease your nerves. 

I’ll have to catch up, you thought to yourself with a grin as Connie raised his half-full glass to your full one, a silly laugh escaping him as you clink your glass to his. 

“Happy new year! Almost!” he nearly shouted before downing the last of his drink in a swift gulp. You tried to follow his pace, always competitive with him, but ended up coughing up some bourbon. Connie laughed instantly, and you could faintly hear Jean laughing as well, which made you glare at the two of them through watered-up eyes, stinging from the liquor. 

“Loser, can’t even hold your bourbon in and you just barely showed up!” Jean laughed, wiggling his almost empty cup in your face, as if to show off his own progress. 

Instead of verbally retaliating, you took another sip and spat it out at him, bursting out into laughter this time with the shout of surprise that came out of his mouth. 

“When are you gonna learn to leave me alone, huh?” you said, snickering and secretly giving Connie a high-five. Evidently, you weren’t going to be needing to drink too much to calm your nerves. You downed the rest of your drink anyway, mostly to piss Jean off and show Connie your two-person drinking game was on. With each drained glass, you felt yourself get looser and warmer, felt the world get a little whirlier, and you found yourself even looking forward to the new year, despite having to leave some things -- and some people -- behind. 

No, you promised yourself you wouldn’t think about that, you thought to yourself again, shaking your head as if to shake the thoughts out. Unfortunately, the shaking made things go a little dizzy, and you bumped into a table to steady yourself. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, setting down your glass and rubbing your forehead. All this drinking was going to be a bitch in the morning, and the discomfort of your intoxication was already getting to you. Even steadying yourself on the table the dizziness didn’t let up, the whirling didn’t stop, and the alcohol churned in your body, that familiar nausea finally surfacing. 

“Oh shit, she’s gonna blow.” 

Whoever had said that should have counted their lucky stars you were too drunk to do anything but stumble to Sasha’s bathroom, but you figured it was stupid Connie, eager to win your drinking game yet again. You shut the bathroom door behind you and took a deep breath, kneeling in front of the toilet and leaning onto your side to use the wall as support, your cheek hitting its cool surface. You didn’t actually think you were going to throw up, but you’d been wrong about these things before, and it was better to be safe than sorry. A knock at the door made you snap your head over too quickly, the dizziness almost being the catalyst for that awful nausea to finally bubble over into the toilet, but you kept your composure. You heard your name being called on the other side of the door, and something about the voice seemed familiar…

“Hold on,” you slurred, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. I won’t puke, I’m not gonna puke, nope, nope, nope…

Your name was called again, this time clearer and more easily heard above the reverberating music and chatter of everyone else still partying. “C’mon, open the door.” You didn’t answer, finally recognizing the voice, your heart stuttering and fighting in your ribcage. No way. “Alright, since you’re not answering, I’m coming in.”

“No!” But it was too late. Your vision swam as Eren’s figure stepped into the cramped bathroom with you, quietly shutting the door behind him before kneeling in front of you. If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn that his eyes were clouded with concern for you. But you did know better. 

“Jesus, are you okay?” he whispered, careful to keep his voice low. 

“What are you doing here? Sasha said you weren’t coming!” you whined, slumping over the toilet. You flinched when you felt a warm hand on your back, and when he registered the flinch, he promptly pulled his hand away. You didn’t know which action hurt you more. 

“Changed my mind,” Eren answered simply. You could almost hear the casual shrug of his shoulders. 

You said nothing, squeezing your eyes shut and willing this to be a nasty dream. The booze had loosened you up and made you forget about Eren for the night, comforted in the thought of him not showing up. Now it was coaxing out your fears and your innermost conflicts. Drunk you wanted to lash out, to bring up those painful topics, but the tiniest sliver of the sober you was still screaming and fighting for your silence. It worked; Eren waited for you to speak, to say something, anything, but spoke up again when he realized you wouldn’t. 

“I’m probably the last person you want to be around, but just let me stay and make sure you don’t choke on your own puke,” he mumbled. The words made you sit up again and glare at him, though the glassy look in your eyes didn’t do well to intimidate him. In fact, it made him smile at you. “What, you think I don’t remember how you get when you drink too much? I’m surprised you haven’t been barfing your guts out this entire time.” 

“I’m not going to barf,” you growled, trying feebly to kick him away. Was the alcohol fucking you up even more than it already had? You felt more intoxicated now. Your senses were going wild and you felt bleary, heavy, like your center of gravity was changing, like your orbit was off. Instead of being focused at your core, it had seeped out elsewhere, making you lean away from the wall and closer to...

No. Drunk you was going to be the death of sober you. 

“Eren, I’m fine. Go have fun,” you whispered, not daring to look at him. In fact, you hadn’t looked directly at him this whole time. You recoiled from him and slumped against the wall, finally chancing a look his way. 

He was beautiful. Always beautiful, but especially tonight. He hadn’t given a damn about dressing up like everyone else, which was classic Eren, and that’s what made him look perfect. The careless bun at the nape of his neck, the ripped jeans, his favorite tattered sweatshirt with his band’s name stamped on it. Purposefully unkempt, as you’d often told him in the past. The past...where you’d once been together. 

“It’s not much better out there. I saw you run in here when I was walking in and wanted to make sure you were doing better than Connie. He’s outside throwing up over the porch, and don’t even get me started on Sasha,” Eren said, rolling his eyes. His gaze was gentle when he looked back at you. “I’ll have a better time in here with you.” 

Your breath hitched at the words. This wasn’t actually happening. You weren’t going to let yourself believe it. 

“You don’t have to be nice to me. I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me,” you blurted out. Finally, the words that had been dying to come out. Drunk you was absolutely going to be the death of sober you.

This made Eren speechless, for once. His eyes widened for a moment and you could tell the wheels were turning in his head.

“You’re too wasted for me to have an actual conversation with you,” he decided with a sigh, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Both of you remembered at that moment when it was you fixing his hair, pushing it out of his face. 

“Am not!” you tried to argue, flinging the nostalgia away and replacing it with your haughty attitude. Eren remembered that too well, the attitude always coming out after too many drinks. “If you have something to say to me, I suggest you say it.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

The words hung in the air between you. Two throats choked up, two pairs of eyes locked, and two hearts ached and called out for each other. 

Your bottom lip trembled when the shame overcame you, pushing you back against the wall to put distance between yourself and Eren. All those months of being good, of avoiding him, of blocking him everywhere, of doing everything to keep moving on...it couldn’t crumble like this. 

“Why did you do it?” you asked meekly, praying the tears that burned your eyes would go away. You looked at your lap, feeling dead sober now. 

Eren didn’t know how to answer the question. How could he tell you that he had done it to save you from the heaviness in him after everything that had happened with his family? He was broken and refused to drag you down with him. He wasn’t good enough. He had needed to find the strength to get better without you, because that wasn’t fair to you to have to shoulder the burden. He’d never ask that of you. 

And now you were in front of him, but you were too drunk to comprehend anything he’d try to voice out. 

“I didn’t do it because I stopped...loving you,” was all he could say, “I just thought that hurting you like that was better than hurting you like I would have if I’d been selfish enough to put you through all my heavy shit. And when I realized you had cut me off and that you were avoiding me, I wanted to give you space.” 

You began to speak, reaching out for him, a blaze of fire in your eyes, and Eren knew what was coming. He stopped you by cupping his hand over your mouth, chuckling when you froze in surprise. 

“If I promise I’ll be right there next to you tomorrow morning so we can talk, will you promise to wait to yell at me until then?” he whispered. 

You slumped your shoulders in silent resignation and nodded, the feeling of his touch overwhelming your senses. You had missed him. Even just the playful touch of his hand on your mouth to silence you was enough to make your body heat up. When he took it away, you felt cold. 

“There’s just about two minutes left until midnight…” Eren started, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. His gaze was averted, but you saw the way he kept looking at you out of the corner of his eye as you both got up, him helping you get back on your feet. 

You smiled and tried to fight the blush that crept onto your cheeks as your hand found his, the warmth spreading over you again when he squeezed your fingers. Neither of you let go. 

“You’re not gonna make me start the new year alone, are you?” you teased him, and the familiar glint in those green eyes made your heart swell. 

“You’re not gonna puke on me, right?” he countered, laughing quietly when you hit his chest. He let you lean on him for support after sitting down for so long, but you refused to believe you were still a little tipsy. Walking out of the bathroom, your eyes blinked to adjust from the difference of lighting from the harsh fluorescents of the bathroom to the dim fairy lights adorning the hallway. 

“There’s gonna be fireworks outside at midnight. Wanna watch with me?” you asked, fighting back the shyness that made you fumble your words. Eren nodded almost immediately, an arm locked around your waist as you guided him to Sasha’s bedroom where all the coats were sprawled out on her bed. The lights were off but you didn’t turn them on, in too much of a hurry and too distracted by Eren’s presence behind you. You grabbed which one you thought was yours and started pulling it on, but perked up with Eren when the drunken chorus of your friends’ voices rang out. 

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN…”

You didn’t want to leave Eren behind. You wanted him next to you when the morning rose for the first day of a new year. You wanted to get closer and closer to him as your friends counted down the seconds from the living room. You wanted your lips on his at midnight. 

He wanted the same. 

His breath was warm on your face as you pressed up against him, the familiarity of your stance no longer bruising your heart, but balming it. Your hands were on his shoulders, fingers dancing up to caress his jaw, to subtly pull his face closer to yours. His hands glided down your sides until they found their favorite place at the small of your back. Your noses touched and he nudged yours playfully with his to get a smile out of you, your hearts both beating frantically. Even in the dark, hardly any light coming in, your bodies had found each other naturally, like nothing had changed. 

“TWO, ONE...HAPPY NEW YEAR!!” 

You could hear phone alarms going off, then fireworks, as your lips pressed to Eren’s. It wasn’t the booze making you feel lightheaded anymore. It was the softness of the boy’s lips, and the way he automatically pulled you in closer. The hair that had fallen out of his bun tickled your face and made you smile into the kiss, which made him mirror your actions. The fireworks outside boomed and crackled as Eren deepened your kiss, a hand moving up to cup your cheek gingerly. Your hands moved to push his hair away from his face, an action that was so familiar to the both of you that it left both of you breathless, and only then did you pull away from the kiss. 

“Happy new year,” you whispered in his ear, a dreamy smile playing on your lips as Eren’s continued to find your skin, not even close to being done kissing you. He wanted to memorize every inch of you all over again. The curve of your neck, the softness of your cheek, the tip of your nose. How he’d survived all this time without you was a fluke, a stroke of luck. It was impossible to go another day without at least seeing your face. He’d needed to see you and he was glad he’d come even if just out of hope that you might have been at the party too. 

“Happy new year,” Eren whispered into the crook of your neck, your name mumbled into your skin. When you both eventually pulled away from each other, he took your hand in his to guide you out, mumbling something about not wanting to miss the fireworks. You knew that him proudly holding your hand in front of your friends may have been a contributing factor in rushing you out. 

“Hey,” you said as you made your way to the front door, a devilish grin on your lips. “Did you say that Connie was losing it on the porch?” 

Eren nodded with a roll of his eyes, pulling you into his side. “Yep. Careful, his splash zone’s pretty gnarly.” 

You laughed loudly, almost a cackle, a glint in your eye as you tugged Eren outside with you. Connie was still slumped over the porch railing, looking delirious. 

“Hey, Connie! I won this time! And you say you can always drink me under the table, but I didn’t even throw up!” 

“Shut the hell up or else I’ll puke all over you.” 

“Whatever. Happy new year! Wait, is that Sasha eating snow?”

[cappsikle]

just a bunch of fools (in love) // george weasley

Request: omg !!! could you please do a continuation for “just a bunch of fools” where george asks reader to marry him 🥺🥺🥺 <3

read the first part here! 

Pairing: george weasley x reader

Summary: the world seems so dark and heavy, but george doesn’t want to do this with anyone but you

Warnings: nope! 

Word Count: 1.7k 

A/N: I’m soooo sorry that this took so long! I had major writer’s block I just hope you like it!

(I’m just gonna say it now, the ending is trash because I just wanted to get it out for you, I’m so sorry >_<)

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!!

-------

Everyone at the Burrow was tense, all still dealing with the aftermath of the attack at the wedding. That was also the night Harry, Ron and Hermione left, along with Bill and Fluer who created a safe house for themselves and members of the Order. So, in the end, it was only you, the twins, ginny, Molly and Arthur who remained at the Burrow until it was time to move to a safer location. No one really spoke to each other, not being able to find the words. What exactly can you say that will make the situation better? The minister of magic was dead, and the ministry had been taken over. You were struggling to grasp anything that resembled hope, it managing to just slip through your fingers. 

Your heart was heavy, dread settling into the pit of your stomach as you sat on the couch in front of the fire. Everyone else had retired to bed, but you just couldn’t sleep, so instead you left George in his bed to sit down and think. Though in hindsight, thinking probably wasn’t the best thing you could do, as you did tend to overthink. What was going to happen next? Where would you go? Are Harry and the others ok? The deeper you went into your thoughts, the more unaware you became of your surroundings, which resulted in you practically jumping out of your skin when you felt a pair of hands over your shoulders.

“shit!” you jumped up from the couch, a hand over your chest as you tried to tame your rapidly racing heart, “George, you scared me!”

“Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to,” you nodded slowly and sat back down, George following and sitting next to you, “what are you doing up so late anyway?”

You shrugged your shoulders, bringing your knees up to your chest and placing your chin in the little divot between them. “just couldn't sleep, yakow... with everything going on.” George nodded his head in understanding, pursing his lips as he got lost in thought. He could see the toll the war had taken on you, effecting your ability to eat and sleep normally. He just wished he knew what to do or say that could make you feel better, but George too was struggling to see the light at the end of this very long and very dark tunnel.

“Would you like something to drink? A cup of tea, maybe?”

You smile sweetly at him and nodded gently, “that would be nice, thank you.” you leaned up and gently placed a kiss to his lips as he rose from his seat, making his way to the kitchen.

Putting the kettle to boil, George looked at you from his place at the kitchen, just taking the time to admire you and your features. From the way your hair fell into your eyes, soft from the light of the fire and the evident tiredness to the little dimple only present on your right cheek even from the smallest of movements from your tempting lips. If there was one thing George knew for sure, it was that in a time where the world was batshit crazy, you were the one that gave him hope for a better future, a future together. That's when he got the idea.

As if electrocuted from a spark, George raced off upstairs towards his room, although he was very careful not to make any noise that would wake his sleeping family. Practically overflowing with nerves and excitement, George ever-so-carefully pushed his door open, squeezing in and tiptoeing to avoid waking up Fred. He walked over to his bedside table and grabbed the little velvet box sitting in the drawer, turning it over in his hands. Was he really about to do this? Was he sure that this is something you’d want, to get engaged right in the middle of a war?  

“So, you’re finally going to do it?” George swore his heart literally jumped out of his chest at the sound of his twin’s tired and barely-awake voice, fumbling with the box as it almost fell out of his grasp. He turned around to face Fred sitting up on the bed, a tired and lazy smirk on his lips.

“Christ, mate! Warn a guy next time, will you?” Fred chuckled at his brother’s frightened state before his eyes trailed down towards what was in George’s hands.

“I said, are you finally going to do it?” George looked down as well, his lips twitching to a small smile at the sight.

“Yeah, I think I am,”

“Are you sure now of all times is the best idea?”

George looked up at his twin, his other half, as he mulled over his words whilst getting up to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. “Look, mate, I’m not sure what’s going to happen over the next few months, but I can’t bear the thought of going through this without the promise that we’ll be together. I love her, more than anything,” Fred looked at his brother, the one person he could count on no matter what, and the solemn look that took over his face. No matter what, he would support his brother’s decision and stand by him with anything, he only wanted to see his brother happy, and he knew that you were the person to make it happy.

Fred nudged George’s shoulder with his elbow, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Look, whatever you do, I support you, and everyone else will too”

George’s face lifted up a bit, grateful for his brother’s words. “I just hope I don’t get rejected,” he said in a joking manner, but there was a hint of seriousness in his voice. What if you do rejected him? Surely you wouldn’t, he hoped.

“I can say with a hundred percent certainty that you will not. You lot are perfect for each other.”

“Thanks, mate.” George smiled up his twin, feeling the energy return with a newfound excitement from his twin’s encouraging words.

“Don’t mention it. Now hurry up and go down there, you left the poor thing hangin’”

George jumped up from the bed, rushing to get downstairs back to you with the box held tightly in his hand. You smiled when you saw George’s lanky figure come back down the steps, dressed in his plaid pajama pants and a plain t-shirt. Noticing George practically bouncing on the spot, you get up from your position on the couch and walk over to him, curious. “What’s got you jumping about the place? You’re basically vibrating,” you chuckled up at him, but your smile fell as you noticed nerves pinching his face, “y’lright, love?”

Just when George thought he couldn’t possibly fall any more in love with you, he was proven wrong upon seeing your concerned face for something as miniscule as feeling nervous. “Y-yeah, ‘m alright,” George looked down at his feet sheepishly, thankful you hadn’t noticed that he was very visibly hiding something behind his back. “Why don’t you come outside with me?”

“Outside? What for?” George raised his head as a sly smirk snaked its way across his lips.

“C’mon, I’ll make it worth your while.” with that, George grabbed your hand and took you through the back door, the light from the inside spilling out to the chilly air.

“George, what’s going on?” you ask curiously, a tint of worry in your voice. You cross your arms over your chest in a futile attempt at warding off the breeze, goosebumps rising on your exposed skin. The cold seemed to have melted away, however, when George grabbed one of your hands from your chest and sunk himself down onto one knee, his other hand still behind his back.

He knew in the grand scheme of things, now was probably a rubbish time to do something like this, but he wanted to have that security that you’d still be his after everything is over. You were confused, what was he doing? He couldn’t be doing... that... right? 

“(Y/N) …” George started, already feeling his start emotions catch up to him. “You are... the best thing that could ever have happened to me. I never thought that in a million years I could have found someone to be like you. Someone so kind, so passionate and so loving, someone willing to do anything and everything to protect those you love without a second thought...”  

George stopped his little speech to gather his thoughts and keep himself from crying. All the while you’re standing there in complete shock. How long had he been planning to do this? You knew what you wanted to say, heck you probably would’ve even said it two years ago. You knew George was who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, and you would be lying if you hadn’t had dreamt this exact scenario multiple times.  

“I remember when we first met at Kings Cross in our third year, where I ran into you and knocked you off of your feet and said some stupid pick-up-line as a failed attempt of an apology... and the rest is history. I know now isn’t the most ideal time to be doing something like this, being in the middle of a war and all, but maybe it’s because of it that now is a perfect time...” George trailed off with a chuckle, gripping your hand tighter. 

Your hand shook in his as he brought the small box out from behind his back, opening it up to reveal a simple gold band with a small diamond in the middle, but you barely spared it a glance. You were entranced by George’s eyes, filled with so much love and emotion. You couldn’t believe this was happening right now. George was actually asking you to marry him. With tears in his eyes and his voice caught in his throat, he asked the final question.

“Will you, my best friend, my soulmate, do me the absolute honor of marrying me?”

You nodded your head excessively, tears shamelessly spilling from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks. You could barely speak, your words stuck in your throat as you choked up. So instead you flung your arms around his neck, bringing your lips close to his ear and spoke the next words with as much love adoration as you could.

“Yes.”

----------

yikes so that ending was very trash but it’s ok because our baby isn’t. Anyways I hope you guys enjoyed that!! Once I got passed the writers block it was enjoyable to write! 

As always my requests are open so please don’t be shy!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!!

- Mills <3

[ardett]

(ruining me) completely

New Karlnap/Karlnapity fic! They’re poly, your honor :)

Description: Sapnap and Karl are dating, Sapnap likes Quackity, and Karl is poly. It could all be so easy except it isn't.

As always, you can read it on Ao3!

Karl was made for this life.

The Feral Boys have been on tour for the better part of the last year and Karl wouldn’t give it up for the world. He flourishes under the stage lights, relishes the feeling of his voice going hoarse from screaming, adores the heat and sweat that comes from the wild crowd. He loves everything about it.

And he loves Sapnap.

God, he loves him.

They got together about half a year ago. They’re the perfect love story: bassist falls for drummer in the most popular band in the world.

Karl had his eyes on Sapnap since the beginning, since they were all starry eyed and unbelievably hopeful. He loved Sapnap’s fireyness, how he’s never afraid to speak his mind and how he always makes things more fun. They were so young then, so much younger then they are now. But somehow, it never went away. Karl falls easily and often but Sapnap is special. Sapnap is someone Karl wants to come home to.

But that love doesn’t come without consequences.

Or no, that’s not exactly fair. Not consequences, just sacrifices.

It’s… tricky. Karl doesn’t like to linger on it, doesn’t like to feel ungrateful for all he has because on the surface, he has everything he could ever want. He gets to be on stage each night with his best friends. He gets to hear the cheers of thousands egging them on. He gets to fall further in love with Sapnap each time he sees him.

But recently, something’s been squirming in his chest every time he sees him. It started a couple weeks ago.

-

For once, they finally get to sleep in a hotel instead of the tour bus.

They each got their own room and Karl had spent valuable alone time decompressing on his phone, savoring the rare silence, but it didn’t take long for boredom to set in. He’s always enjoyed the company of others more than his own.

He wanders over to Sapnap’s room. Maybe they could finally cuddle on a bed bigger than a matchstick. Sapnap always gives off a ridiculous amount of heat and Karl loves to lace their fingers together and snuggle closer to him, soaking in the warmth.

He knocks on the door. “Sap? I know I said I was gonna take a nap but I’m bored.” There’s no answer. “Sapnap? You in there?”

Karl waits a few more seconds and then shrugs. He figures Sapnap must either be asleep or have gone out to grab something. He starts typing out a text to his boyfriend when he notices that Quackity’s door isn’t fully closed.

Karl pushes it open with his foot and steps inside.

“Quackity, are you free? I’m so bore—”

“Karl? What—”

Karl looks up from his phone and pauses at the sight of Quackity and his boyfriend sitting next to each other on the bed, laptop balanced between them on both of their thighs. Karl just catches the split second of Sapnap whipping his hand off Quackity’s knee. Karl giggles as the movement jostles the computer and Quackity snaps, “Hey, watch it!” as he grabs the laptop to stop it from falling.

Quackity looks oddly guilty as his hands fiddle with the computer. He seems to almost lean away from Sapnap.

“Hi Quackity!” Karl smiles, trying to brush past any awkwardness of his arrival. “Sap, I didn’t even know you were in here. I was just looking for you.”

“Karl, um, what are you doing here? I thought you were taking a nap.” Sapnap doesn’t quite meet Karl’s eyes. His hand twists in the bedsheet, bereft from where it was resting on Quackity. He doesn’t sound excited to see him. 

“Oh, sorry, I am interrupting? I can go. I was just bored and couldn’t fall asleep.”

Sapnap hesitates. “I mean, I guess. We were in the middle—”

Quackity suddenly cuts him off. “No, no, you’re not interrupting, Karl! Actually we were just about done with this.”

“What?” Sapnap glances over to Quackity, brow furrowing. “No, we weren’t, we have like an hour left in this—”

“We can finish it later!” Quackity says louder, practically glaring at Sapnap now. Karl watches this all, biting his lip and trying to figure out the best way to interject. “Maybe you should go and spend time with your boyfriend.” Quackity emphasizes the last word. As Sapnap hears it, his expression shutters from confused to frustrated to ashamed.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re… you’re right,” Sapnap mutters. 

He starts to stand but Karl asks, “Well, what are you watching? Maybe I can join you!”

Sapnap shifts on the bed. “Just some action movie.”

“Can I watch with you then? I might fall asleep though.” Karl doesn’t wait for an answer, just jumps onto the bed next to Quackity so the other boy is in between the couple.

Quackity stares at him. “You, uh… you don’t want to sit next to your boyfriend?”

“Nope, this is fine. Plus, I can still do this!” Karl grabs Sapnap’s hand, resting their interlocked fingers on Quackity’s knee again. Sapnap’s eyes soften and he gives Karl’s hand a little squeeze. “Start the movie!”

Quackity doesn’t say another word, just does what Karl asks. Karl doesn’t want to make it too obvious he’s watching Quackity but out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees the boy blushing.

At some point Karl must fall asleep because he wakes up to the credits rolling. His head is resting on Quackity’s shoulder, his hand long ago gone lax and lost its hold on Sapnap’s. Through bleary eyes, he sees Sapnap’s hand still resting in the same spot on Quackity’s knee, tracing small circles on the bone.

Even when they all stumble back to their rooms, Karl holds that warm, complete feeling in his chest. It’s almost freeing.

-

Karl knows how he was supposed to take that interaction.

People aren’t supposed to feel happy or optimistic when they see their boyfriend spending time with someone else, when they find them pressed into someone else’s side with a hand on their knee.

Karl just doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal. Sapnap would never cheat on him. Karl knows that with 100% certainty. Even if Sapnap did have feelings for Quackity, he would never act on them.

And Karl guesses that’s a good thing because he’s also almost certain that Sapnap is developing feelings for Quackity. He can just see it. He knows his boyfriend. He can see it in the way Sapnap sings on stage and looks at Quackity, the way he brings Quackity his coffee on days they have to get up early, the guilt in his eyes whenever Karl catches them together.

But Karl also knows that Sapnap still loves him deeply and truly and that he doesn’t have to worry. He’s not worried. He’s not worried because he knows Sapnap would never try anything with Quackity, not while the two of them are together.

Although…  

Although that’s not what’s assuaging Karl’s worries at all. Karl’s not worried for an entirely different reason, one he still tries not to admit to himself.

(Karl’s not worried because Sapnap and Quackity are cute together. If Sapnap finally told Karl that he had a crush on Quackity, Karl would support him. Karl can see the appeal. And he wants Sapnap to support him too.)

-

The feeling comes back to haunt Karl all the time, in the sweet boys and cute girls he notices on tour, in the conversation he starts and ends too soon. He wants to tell Sapnap because he’s always believed honestly is best but he can’t muster the words.

He’s just so… frustrated. He doesn’t want to have to live like this, in fear of even looking at other people without being accused of cheating. And he knows Sapnap and Quackity could be good for each other. They could all be good for each other.

Quackity’s hilarity fits with both of them. Karl appreciates how considerate Quackity can be, a protector even when he doesn’t mean to be. He could even fill in the sexual gap in Sapnap and Karl’s relationship. Karl doesn’t feel bad about being ace. Sapnap knew about that even before they started dating. Sapnap’s never tried to change that about him but Karl knows that if he was someone else, they would be having sex.

Karl knows it’s unconventional and that he shouldn’t think this but he wouldn’t mind if Quackity and Sap hooked up, not if it satisfied them both and made everyone happier.

But that can’t happen. Karl’s been told this so many times. That’s not what a relationship is and it can’t be like that.

So instead all of them sacrifice things for each other.

Karl watches Quackity’s guilty downcast eyes intensify and sees him push Sapnap away. It’s hard to ignore his constant comments on their relationship, like he’s always trying to remind them and himself that this isn’t allowed. 

Karl gets to nurse Sapnap after each rejection but they never talk about it. Sometimes Karl can coax out a couple words about how Sapnap feels like Quackity doesn’t like him anymore, doesn’t even want to spend time with him. Karl tries his best to push them to hang out again, hoping maybe that will open up the conversation in some way, but Sapnap will just shake his head and start insisting it just means they get to spend more time together and shouldn’t that make them both happier.

And Karl, Karl has spent the last weeks trying to repress every wrong thought and feeling terrible each time he fails. He loves Sapnap so much. He wishes he was allowed to love Sapnap and be himself, every part of himself. He wishes they were all allowed to search for love and still be loved.

-

Karl snaps out of his thoughts. He has to focus.

Tonight’s concert is a tough one. It’s their third consecutive night performing, city after city after city. They’ve just moved over time zones so they’re all down an hour of sleep after too many nights on a tour bus.

Karl’s fingers move along the familiar strings of his bass but he’s starting to feel like he’s having an out of body experience. 

Dream’s voice echoes in his head but the words are meaningless. His teeth glint in the stage lights. Dream’s always been the heart of the band in every way. He’s the tall blond heartthrob and he’s the only one who’s as close to a bleeding heart as Karl. But over the last two years, he’s only had eyes for George.

Karl’s gaze slides over. He watches George watch Dream, like he always is, like he hasn’t turned Dream down three times now without explanation. Dream says he knows George just isn’t ready yet. Sapnap is a bit more righteously angry on behalf of his best friend, probably because he’s had to console a heartbroken Dream after each rejection.

Karl doesn’t like to get involved in something so personal for the both of them but he doesn’t think George can hold all the love Dream wants to give him. He thinks George knows that. He thinks George has decided this is the best way that neither of them get hurt. Karl isn’t so sure he agrees.

George strums a chord on his guitar in harmony with Quackity on the keys.

There’s something oddly elegant about the way Quackity plays the keys. Every other part of him fits the feral label. He’s just as loud as the rest of them, crude at times, has a wicked scar over his eye from one time he got caught in a mosh pit, but if you just focused on his hands, you would see his joints stretched across an octave, you would see the gentleness of a finger pressing out the final note of a song. He’s sweeter than he lets on. Karl can see what Sapnap likes so much about Quackity. He always knows exactly when to stop so he doesn’t go too far.

It’s probably the reason Sapnap hasn’t made a move yet.

That isn’t the whole reason, of course, Karl knows that. Sapnap’s got some misguided sense of loyalty into his head that says Karl wouldn’t approve. 

Except Karl would approve. He really, really would.

But they haven’t talked about it. Karl’s trying not to think about it. Right.

Because instead of talking about it, they demand sacrifices from each other and Sapnap doesn’t even know what he’s asking of Karl but Karl knows exactly what he asked Sapnap to give up and it would be so easy for them both to be sated but instead they’re—

Karl isn’t thinking about it.

He floats further out of his body instead.

Sapnap howls into his mic and Karl watches him rip into his drum set, wood splintering off his drumsticks and heat radiating from his hi-hat. Karl does love him. Loves the way Sapnap will let him untie his white scrap of a headband while they’re kissing, loves the way Sapnap will give him a piggyback ride back to the tour bus if he asks, loves the way Sapnap brushes a knuckle across his cheek and tells him that he’s changed everything for him.

Karl sees Sapnap throw his sticks into the audience and that’s the only way Karl knows the concert is finally over.

As they head backstage, someone pries Karl’s bass out of his unwilling hands and gives him what’s meant to be a friendly slap on the back. Karl’s chest tightens and he almost snaps but then there’s a too warm hand in his, squeezing gently. Sapnap always runs warm.

“Hey, baby,” Sapnap whispers into his hair. The screams of the crowd almost drown him out. Karl squeezes back but he doesn’t answer.

No thinking, just getting out of here. No thinking, just getting to the tour bus.

It’s quieter past the backstage exit but like always, there’s fans where they aren’t supposed to be. Security is holding them back and that’s fine, or it would have been fine, if someone hadn’t grabbed at Karl’s sleeve and yanked him away from Sapnap.

She’s cute, is the thing. Brunette, eyeliner and blush, roses in her hair that match her shoes. Karl doesn’t know how he notices her shoes when he stumbles but he does.

He doesn’t even quite hear what she asks, her eyes glittering and her phone clearly recording. Something about their band name.

But whatever it is, it’s the thing that finally forces Karl back into his body and makes him explode.

What Karl means to say is you’re cute and I wish I could smile at you and talk to you but I’m not allowed because everyone’s told me so. But that’s not what comes out. What comes out is far worse.

They called themselves the Feral Boys for a reason. Karl doesn’t usually let it show because he doesn’t usually feel like this - this pent up, this frustrated, this hurt - but now he does. 

And now he rounds on the poor girl, eyes deadly, voice snarling, “I’m sick of all this How'd you get your band name? Is that your real first name? Can you text and can you follow back 'cause it's my birthday?” 

The other boys have noticed Karl lagging behind. The girl flinches back but Karl can’t stop himself, not even as silence sweeps across the small crowd gathered. He screams, “No one cares what I want! Just what I’ve got. And if we sit and count it up, it’s really not a lot.”

His voice dies in his throat. He stares at the girl. The shock and terror on her face mirrors his own.

“Oh god, hey, please—” Dream is suddenly in front of the girl, pushing Karl behind him. He begs the girl, “Please, please don’t post that, okay? I’m really sorry. Karl didn’t mean that. Whatever I can do to make it up to you. I can sign anything you want—”

“Come on, Karl, let’s go.” Quackity’s at his arm, tugging him insistently towards the bus. “We gotta go, Karl. Dream’s going to handle it, let’s go.”

Karl doesn’t even register them getting inside but next thing he knows, he’s sitting on one of the tour bus chairs. How long has he been here? Dream’s still not back. All the window curtains are pulled shut.

“Karl, what the fuck?” 

Karl’s gaze snaps to Sapnap as his boyfriend paces in front of him, hands clenched into fists.

“You can’t— You can’t fucking do that. You can’t yell at our fans! I don't know what the hell is up with you but you can’t take it out on other people like that!” Sapnap fumes, teeth practically sharpening in his anger.

“I know, Sap,” Karl mutters, eyes dropping to the ground.

George slips past them, saying, “I’m gonna check on Dream, make sure he’s got everything under control.” Quackity retreats to the back of the bus to give them as much privacy as possible but Karl knows he can hear every word.

“If you’re feeling like that, you take it up with us.” Sapnap’s gaze is fiery. His shoes scuff black marks onto the floor. “You take it up with me. If you need to scream then fine, but not out there. What are we going to do if she posts that video online, huh? You’re supposed to be the best of us—”

That comment makes Karl growl. Why is it that everyone but him gets to decide who he’s supposed to be? 

He stands up, pushing past Sapnap and going to grab a shirt from his bunk. “Well maybe I don’t want to be the fucking best of us anymore. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah, yeah, it is if you’re gonna be cruel about it!” Karl hears Sapnap coming after him but he doesn’t turn around.

“I wasn’t trying to be cruel—”

“But you were! That girl paid to talk to us, hell, just to see us, and you screamed in her face! Karl.” Sapnap grabs Karl’s wrist, forcing him to face him. “What the fuck were you even on about? No one cares what you want? Obviously I care about what you want.”

“Get. Off. Of. Me,” Karl growls instead of answering.

“Um, guys—” Quackity tries to intervene, coming out from his bunk and stepping towards them. They both ignore him.

“I’m your boyfriend,” Sapnap spits. “You have to tell me if you’re feeling like this—”

Karl laughs, something bitter and acrid. “You’re literally the problem!”

“Maybe if you both took a second to relax—”

Karl snaps, “Fuck off, Quackity.”

Sapnap bristles, grip tightening on Karl. “Don’t yell at him.”

“Oh yeah sure, I won’t yell at him. In fact,” Karl rips himself out of Sapnap’s hands. “Why don’t you just go cry to Quackity about it? I’m sure you’d both like that, wouldn’t you?” 

Karl’s words twist as soon as they come out of his mouth. This isn’t what he meant to say at all. This isn’t how he wanted to talk about this. But it’s too late to take anything back now.

Sapnap’s gaze turns steely. Karl can see his defenses rise. “Is that what this is about? Me and Quackity? Because that’s not fair and you know it. We’ve never done any of that shit.”

“But you could! You like him, don’t you?” Sapnap opens his mouth to reply but Karl turns to Quackity instead, demanding, “You know he likes you. You can’t be that blind.”

Quackity’s eyes flick between the two of them, uncertainty and shame written across his face. “I, um—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sapnap interrupts Quackity’s would-be confession. Karl doesn’t miss the way Quackity flinches. “It doesn’t matter because I would never do that to you.”

Karl throws his hands up. His blood boils, not at Sapnap but at himself, at everyone, at all the expectations they have to follow. “Oh my god, that’s the whole problem! I don’t care that you like Quackity or if he likes you back or if you fuck in your fucking bunk beds. What I care about is that you’re too much of a coward to admit it and fucking ask him out!”

Sapnap’s expression turns incredulous. “Karl, we’re literally dating!”

“Yeah, so what? That doesn’t mean you can’t go out with Quackity.”

“It literally does!”

“No, it doesn’t!” And Karl’s not trying to scream back at him but he can’t help it. Why can’t things just be easy? Why does everyone have to make everything so complicated? “Come on, Sap, I know you miss having sex. Don’t even try to tell me you don’t.” Karl tries to level his voice, to actually be honest for once. “And I know you would never push me like that and that you respect me being ace and I love you for that but do you think as your boyfriend that I want you to be miserable?”

“I’m not… I’m not miserable,” Sapnap protests. His voice gets quieter and he seems to realize that they have an audience. His eyes dart over to Quackity before fixing on Karl. “Yeah, whatever, I miss having sex but at least I don’t want to die anymore.”

“Sap…” The word comes out soft as Sapnap clutches at Karl’s sleeves and then rests his head on Karl’s shoulder. He hears Sapnap take a shuddering breath.

“Karl, you make me not want to die. You know all this touring and stardom and just, everything, it’s a lot for me and, and I need you. I’m not going to lose you because I want to fuck someone. That’s not… that’s not even an option.”

“You don’t have to lose me. I’m telling you that you don’t have to lose me,” Karl promises, rubbing a hand down Sapnap’s spine. He feels his ribs expand and shake.

“I’m gonna— I’m gonna go—” Quackity starts saying but Karl latches onto his wrist.

“No, no, you should stay. I shouldn’t have said— You should stay. Stay.”

“O—Okay,” Quackity stutters. His eyes go between them nervously. “I don’t— I didn’t— I mean, Karl, I don’t want to come between you two. I really don’t.”

“Just— okay.” Karl takes a deep breath before taking a step back and looking at them both. “Let me just be clear. Come clean, I guess. Sapnap,” He meets his boyfriend’s gaze, trying to give him a smile and only half managing. “I’m polyamorous. I know I should have told you earlier, I know, but I was nervous. It’s hard to bring up on a first date, you know. And I liked you so much. I like you so much, now. And I thought it would be fine and that I wouldn’t feel this… this suffocated but it’s really not fine. I don’t want you to think this means I love you less. It just means… I have lots of love to give. And I think it’s lovely that you do too, that you have room for me and Quackity, so why do we have to stop that, you know?”

“I, um.” Sapnap gives him a nervous smile. He nods tentatively. “Y—Yeah. Yeah, totally. I agree.”

Karl’s brow furrows at the hesitance. “Do you? Doesn’t seem like you’re okay with it. And if you’re not, we… I… We’re going to have to talk about it. Because I’m telling you things have to change.”

“I don’t want to suffocate you!” Sapnap says quickly and then repeats, “I don’t want to suffocate you. I just, um, I don’t know what that word means?” he admits softly.

“Oh,” Karl lets out a breathy laugh. Relief spikes through him, almost painful with how sharp it is. It’s easy to forget that something so all consuming to him can be completely unknown to most people. “Yeah, yeah, of course. It’s… It’s, um… Okay, first of all, it’s not cheating.”

“I would never cheat on you,” Sapnap interjects. Karl winces at the misinterpretation of his words. He can’t tell if Sapnap’s insistence that he would never cheat is a good or bad sign for this discussion. Sapnap goes on, “I don’t want to cheat on you, Karl! Me and Quackity aren’t— We’re not—”

“Sapnap, just—” Karl holds up his hands and Sapnap’s mouth snaps shut. It’s not like he can turn back now and there’s nowhere to go back to anyway. He can’t keep living like this. “I know, I know. That’s what I’m saying, okay? Having a poly relationship isn’t cheating because there’s consent. It’s not a secret. So like, for me, it means I like flirting with other people and sometimes going out on dates and maybe kissing them. Maybe for you, you just want to have a couple of consistent partners.” Karl gestures to Quackity, watching as both boys flush. Karl shrugs, a nervous smile gracing his face, “I just… There’s so many interesting people out there, you know? And I think it’s kind of dumb that I can’t meet them or talk to them or look at them because we’re together.”

Sapnap crosses his arms, hugging himself. “And we’re… We’re not breaking up, right?”

“Well…” Karl bites his lip, looking away. He feels the atmosphere in the room thicken and darken, beginning to press down on his shoulders. “I don’t want to but…”

Sapnap’s voice is so so small. “Karl?”

Karl sighs. “I don’t want to. I really don’t want to. I just need you to understand that this is non-negotiable for me, okay? And I feel like…” Karl buries his face in his hands, pressing his fingers into the hollows of his eyes. “I feel really stupid asking you this because I know it sounds like I’m just… that I can’t control myself and that I can’t stand not flirting with people. But I want you to understand that it’s more than that. 

“I feel so guilty for thinking people are attractive and fucking— even just making eye contact with people because what if you see me do that and you don’t like it. It makes me feel… owned. In a gross way,” Karl explains desperately. “And, and I thought I could just get over it but clearly I can’t because I saw that fan and I thought she was cute and then I was just… I was just sure I wasn’t allowed to think that. And then I was angry that I wasn’t allowed to even have my own thoughts in my head anymore and I just… exploded.” Karl swallows, ashamed that he lost control of himself like that. But he hopes, god, he hopes that something good will come out of it.

“So what I’m trying to ask you is, is this going to be okay? I know this kind of relationship isn’t for everyone and I… I won’t be mad but if that’s the case… then this has to be it, I think,” Karl finishes, finally looking at Sapnap again.

“I don’t want to break up,” Sapnap says immediately. Karl watches him fiddle with the hem of his shirt as he tries to figure out what he wants to say. “And I… I don’t think I would mind if you flirted or kissed other people, as long as I know you still love me.”

“I do,” Karl affirms, gaze softening. That, at least, is a constant. “I do love you, Sapnap. So much.”

“This… this is all new to me. But I think I understand better because you’re right. I… I do have feelings for Quackity. And I know I don’t love you any less. I can’t promise that I’ll never get jealous but I want to try. I want to try with you.”

“Yeah?” Karl asks, heart light for the first time in weeks and weeks. He searches Sapnap’s face for a lie. There isn’t one.

“Yeah,” Sapnap answers.

Karl leans up to kiss him, letting himself enjoy it like he hasn’t been able to. It’s like the first time again, new and exciting and breathtaking and hopeful. The future seems brighter than it has in a long time.

As they pull apart, Karl winks at Sapnap and then grabs Quackity by the collar and kisses him on the cheek.

“Karl!” Quackity squeaks. Sapnap giggles and Karl looks over to see love in his eyes, love for both of them.

And Karl knows that no matter what, they’re in this together now.

Author’s Note: based off the song: I Miss Having Sex But at Least I Don’t Wanna Die Anymore by Waterparks

I wanted to show a different kind of poly representation, as much as I love the classic Karlnapity <3 Lots of the poly people I know have a relationship with their partners that isn't as straightforward as three people being perfect equals in a relationship (not that that's particularly straightforward either) but a relationship shouldn't have rules as long as you talk about it with your partner/partners

I might return to this one day, although the band AU part is super out of my comfort zone, but who knows! :)

[mattzerella-sticks]

Before the Night Ends

Dean/Castiel, 2.1k words, post-Wedding/pre-Honeymoon

ao3

It's been a wedding for the ages. Dean and Castiel finally tied the knot, with guests flying in from all across America, Heaven, Hell - even the Empty. But everything must come to an end, and after a wonderful Roadhouse reception Dean and Cas drove off in Baby and off towards their honeymoon.

Except, it's a long drive from Kansas plains to California beaches. They stop close to midnight at a motel along the highway, to sleep, celebrate their wedding night and that it's Valentine's Day, too.

           There’s a motel off Highway 70 called Angel’s Paradise, first established in the early 1900s, and last renovated in 1982. The owners back then, who remain so today, envisioned heaven as some tropical destination. That meant each room, alike in their simplicity and functionality, would be redone along these guidelines. Walls plastered with paper-print palm fronds and blooming, pink flowers. Bathrooms tiled a light blue – like waters from the clearest ocean – and little soaps shaped like shells to match the shell-patterned shower curtain. They’d have an entertainment unit housing a small television set would double as a dust collector, various ocean-themed knick-knacks cluttered atop it, ranging from homemade to store bought. A wicker table situated between two wicker chairs, a wicker dresser placed next to the entertainment unit and a wicker bed-or-beds layered by their own palm fronds, matching the walls. Finally, tying the décor together was a little (wicker) side table near the door with a plastic conch set to catch keys or loose change or cigarette ash. Given these changes, any customer might imagine they were in Florida rather then Colorado, or it was June instead of February. Especially in the crown jewel of Angel’s Paradise, the Honeymoon Suite.

           Except the Suite’s current boarders were very aware of where and when they are. Probably because they have yet to see their room for the night.

           Dean tucks his hands into his elbows, shivering outside the Suite while Cas fiddles with its doorknob. “Come on,” he whines, “what’s the hold-up?”

           Cas pauses, turning to Dean. “Sorry,” he says, “the lady at the counter – she said they were having issues since the last occupants. Something about them breaking the lock?”

           “Fuckin’ a…” Dean hisses, bouncing now. An icy wind cuts across the parking lot, Dean defenseless to it because he forwent a heavier jacket and how thin the material of his suit was. Castiel looks marginally warmer than Dean, wrapped in his trademark trench coat. Still, Dean notices how his hands tremble while holding the key. Cas’s hand flicks to the left, Dean’s gaze catching the silver band wrapped around his ring finger. One day, he may get used to it. Dean hopes he never does and can experience the same flutter of warmth rippling through his heart from seeing it. He leans into Cas, Dean dropping his head onto Cas’s shoulder. “Who do I have to pray to for this door to open?”

           “No one,” Cas declares, lock clicking in time with his words, “because it’s open!”

           Dean curses under breath, smiling. “Great,” he says, “let’s get in there, then – hey… hey!”

           Swept off his feet, Dean falls into the loving grip of his husband. Cas places one arm at his back, supporting most of the weight, while the other arm traps Dean’s knees, keeping his legs bent and Dean unable to wriggle himself free. Cas smiles down at him, laughing.

           “You think this is so funny,” Dean scowls, holding onto Cas’s tie like it were a lifeline. “You little shit –“

           “Mr. Shit, Dean,” Cas interrupts, kicking the door open and striding past the threshold, “I did take your last name, after all.”

           “My mistake…” He huffs, burying his head in Cas’s chest while he uses the fingers not squeezing Cas’s tie to comb the hairs at his husband’s neck. “Dean and Castiel Shit… I can see the monogramed towels already.” Dean closes his eyes, purring like a kitten while he absorbs the heat that radiates from Cas. It’s inhuman how much of a furnace he was, especially after giving up his grace to live as a human, to be human with Dean. Like always, Dean’s smile widens at the thought. He tries hiding his rapidly flushing face, but Cas tears Dean off of him. He ungraciously dumps Dean onto the bed, blue eyes betraying his cool demeanor as they glow with mirth from Dean’s startled squawking. “What do you think you’re doing?”

           “Going to get the bags,” he says, moving towards the door, “Why don’t you get comfortable, I’ll only be a moment.”

           Dean shakes his head, situating himself better on the bed. He sits at the foot of it, toeing off his snakeskin boots and then peeling off the dark grey dress socks he wore with them. While pulling at his tie, Cas returns with their bags. He doesn’t close the door after, and a blustery chill fills the space. Goosepimples erupt in scattered bunches up and down Dean’s arms. “Close the door!” he yells, dumping the tie onto the slowly growing pile of discarded clothing. His suit jacket joins his tie and socks and boots as Cas deposits their bags by the television. He then hits the door with his elbow, shutting out the wind. Cas gestures at the closed door with a flourish and wry grin. Dean scoffs, “Ugh, who’s bright idea was it to do this in winter?”

           “The same man who, on his birthday, said,” Cas drifts closer, helping Dean unbutton his shirt, “and I quote, ‘If you think you can propose to me and not expect us to get married as soon as possible, then you don’t know what you’re signing up for… buddy’.” Cas eases the shirt off Dean’s shoulders, kissing the exposed skin right above his t-shirt. “For the record,” Cas adds, whispering into his collarbone, “I expected it. It was one of the reasons why I couldn’t wait any longer.”

           Dean remembers. Their family, together, celebrating Dean’s birthday. His first birthday free from Chuck’s machinations, with a cake Jack spent all day baking and presents that lined the end of the table. He held Cas’s hand as he blew out the candles, mind blank because nothing he could wish for would match the happiness he felt in that moment. He tells Cas this after he asks what he wished for. And Cas, of course, proceeds to kiss him. Cas kisses him while Eileen cut the cake, while Jack helped plate them, and while Sam clapped Dean’s shoulders in warning to reign it in. Dean pulled back, gasping, unsure how he might respond to his then-boyfriend’s passion. Then Cas asked him that all-important, heart-stopping, mind-blowing question, opened a velvet box, and Dean knew exactly what to say.

           “I would’ve waited,” Dean reveals, helping Cas with his clothes as Cas guides Dean’s legs out of his slacks. “Everyone knows how long I’ve waited to tell you I love you… I would’ve waited, even if we died and we had to get married in heaven.” Dean pecks Cas’s lips, divesting him of both jackets and his button-down shirt. “I’m glad we didn’t have to, though.”

           “So am I.”

           They stand together in t-shirts and boxers, barely an inch of space between them. No one speaks, not that they have to, but the usually comfortable silence makes Dean nervous. His focus drifts from Cas and onto the plastic conch behind him. Then, he notices how the rest of the room is decorated. Dean giggles, “Wow… it’s, this place is…”

           Cas nods. Dean needn’t say anything else. “You should’ve seen the inside,” he snickers, “the staff were wearing Hawaiian shirts and shark-tooth necklaces.”

           “Hey,” Dean shoves him, “don’t diss Hawaiian shirts.” He collects his clothes and boots, bringing them over to their duffels. “I’ve got about three packed away in here, and I’m planning on buying at least a few more before our honeymoon ends.”

           “Should they even be called Hawaiian shirts if we’re not in Hawaii?” Cas asks. Dean hears the mattress squeak, and guesses his husband sat on the bed. He digs through the duffel, Cas monologuing in the background. “Are they called Coloradan shirts since we’re in Colorado? If we buy them in California, won’t they be Californian Shirts? Or is it because they’re made in Hawaii, and then shipped elsewhere? Can you imagine it – shirt factories, dotting the beaches? Oh, I’d hope the workers making all these Hawaiian shirts are at least being paid a fair wage, given how popular they seem to be…”

           “There’s no factories on any beaches,” Dean tells him, “and – hate to burst your bubble, angel – but I doubt Hawaiian shirt makers are paid what they deserve, regardless of where their factories are.” Cas hums in that same, sullen note he usually does when the beginning notes of Sarah McLachlan play and Dean can’t switch channels fast enough. He folds his clothes, setting them aside. Then, Dean sneaks his hand into his stack of clean boxers, finding the surprise he hid for his husband. “Hey,” Dean rises, “capitalism sucks, but we can’t let it ruin our trip.” Dean drops onto Cas’s lap, delighting in the tiny ‘oof’ that escapes from his husband. “Here,” he says, “I was saving this for later… but hell, we’re running out of time. I’d rather give it to you before the night ends than a day later.” Dean hands him an envelope, Cas’s name scrawled on the front. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

           “A card?” Cas asks, flipping the envelope back and forth, “Dean… you didn’t have to get me anything.”

           “’Course I did…” Dean presses a kiss to Cas’s temple, ruffling his hair. “It’s Valentine’s Day… probably the first Valentine’s Day I actually wanted to celebrate in a long time, because I’ve got someone I love and want to celebrate. And sure, it’s not like we didn’t do just that… in front of all our friends and families… and a few exes… and uninvited guests –“

           “The point, Dean?”

           “Sorry,” Dean lays his head atop Cas’s, watching him peel away the envelope’s glue. “We’ll have tons more holidays and anniversaries to celebrate in the future… I just didn’t want our first Valentine’s Day to be overshadowed by our wedding. You mean so much to me that I’m not gonna just lump the two together like you’re some kid who was unlucky enough to be born on Christmas. You deserve it all.” Cas flips the envelope, shaking its contents free. A pair of red panties floats onto his outstretched hand. “Not just some stinkin’ card.”

           Cas squeezes the panties. “Are you –?”

           “About to show you how friggin’ fantastic married sex is?” Dean wrangles the panties from Cas’s fist, waving it about like a flag. “You bet. Let me slip these on and…“ He starts towards the bathroom, Cas slowly chasing him.

           “You don’t have to,” his husband growls, “you can change here –“

           “Cas, I won’t be long –“

           “I don’t know if I can wait!”

           “You’ll have to!” Dean closes the door on Cas’s face, laughing as he hears his husband bang against the door in protest. He yells for Dean, but Dean ignores him. Dean brings his hand to his face, covering his mouth with both it and the panties he carries. They smell like cherries. He forgot to tell Cas they’re edible. Cas will figure that out later.

           He’ll also give Cas his real card later, as well. The one he wrote using all the words Dean was too afraid to say at the altar. Little details about the way Cas hogs all the blankets when he sleeps, and how his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and that Cas’s hugs chase away dark thoughts better than any drink might’ve. There were also bigger things he mentioned, in this card. About Cas and his unwavering faith in Dean, even at times where he didn’t deserve it. About the despair that bloomed whenever Cas left his side, a bouquet of horrid, wilted roses growing rampantly over his heart and piercing it with their thorns during those awful times it seemed their last goodbye truly was. About the love Cas inspired within Dean that changed his life, from the very beginning, from the touch of Cas’s hand on his shoulder. That simple act which broke him free from Chuck’s wheel again and again and again. Dean couldn’t say any of this in a crowded room. He doubts he can with only Cas. He already cried enough for one day. So, they’ll have sex instead. After they’ve burned through the remaining fumes that linger in their tanks, Dean will present the card, curl against Cas’s side with his head tucked underneath his husband’s chin, and listen while Cas reads how much he means to Cas.

           But that won’t be until later. Now, Dean shimmies out of his boxers. He pulls the panties on, flicking the bow twice once it’s settled. “Are you ready?” Dean croons, jiggling the knob, “because it’s time to ride ‘em, cowboy!”

           Cas pries the door loose, almost ripping it off its hinges as pull Dean forward into a searing kiss. Dean smiles into it, letting Cas take lead. Dean’s gift were the panties. Cas’s gift is putting in the work to get them off. Cas throws Dean onto the bed, his mouth attacking Dean’s neck. His hand trails down Dean’s side, tickling and teasing him.

           He couldn’t have written a better ending to his story. Or imagine a better beginning to his next.

[iceeckos12]

tma fic recs

I’ve seen a couple of fic rec posts floating around. since ive been reading so many excellent fic recently, i thought that id make one as well! please note this list is going to be 99% jonmartin. also buckle up, because this is going to get long.

Completed

the umbrella by Wildehack (tyleet)

"And to think—all of Jonah Magnus’ carefully laid plans, the centuries of scheming, the murders, the sacrifices, all of that work could have been completely undone if Martin Blackwood had gone back for an umbrella" - holdthosebees

Notes: This is probably my go-to fic if i want an apocalypse never happened scenario. The jonmartin is wonderful, as is the h/c.

Diary and Prenon-nous la main by luftballoons99

Diary summary:

Not for the first time since they ran away together, a camera reel of all the things they don't know about one another whirs behind Martin's eyes, and he can't help but look at all the sprawling magnetic tape and wonder if they’re going to wind up a romance or a tragedy.

or: Office parties, garage bands, and the joy of being known.

Prenon-nous la main summary:

They still haven't talked about it, any of it, not even to pass the time on the long train ride to Scotland. Instead, Martin fell asleep in the seat next to him, pressed into his side from shoulder to knee, and Jon thought about love confessions and verb tense and how the two fit together when you think you're dying.

or: Good cows, mediocre poetry, and other crucial topics of discussion.

Notes: Do you love impeccable safehouse jonmartin characterization? do you love characters grappling with the mortifying ordeal of being known? do you love softness so tender that it makes you want to weep? please read these fic. im begging you.

i’ll tell you about all the times i’ve smiled because of you by cryptidkidprem

Summary:

Martin thinks about their shoes, sitting beside each other on the floor by the bed. Thinks of the way Jon wears Martin’s cardigans more often than he wears his own, the way Martin’s started keeping elastics around his wrist because Jon always forgets his own when they go out.

He thinks about all the gentle touches and fussing over each other they’ve done, and how much is still to come over the next… however long Jon will have him.

They have a long way to go, an entire life to build out of the wreckage Jonah Magnus and Peter Lukas left them, but laying together in a comfortable, sleepy quiet, Martin thinks they’ve got a good start going.

Or, Jon quits the Institute, saves the world, and it turns out to be exactly what he needs in order to heal and start moving forward towards building a life with Martin.

Notes: how many times have i reread this fic? more than i can count. jon quits the institute and it’s just full of soft jonmartins. they get married! god i love them.

go softly by doomcountry

Summary:

And there is nothing else besides this.

Notes: every time i remember this fic i reread it. please heed the tags because martin is blinding jon, but he’s like. blinding jon in the most heartbreaking way possible. idk how the author made this so tender but i know i was certainly crying so!

The Reverb in These Holy Halls by  Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)

Summary:

Undoing the apocalypse would have been enough for Jon, if all his people survived. Without them, Jon's only recourse is making it so it never happened in the first place. He's going to do better this time.

Notes: Do you like time travel fixits? i sure like time travel fixits. reverb is an excellent one. heavy on the h/c, I wanted to hug jon so so badly. 

Yesterday is Here by  CirrusGrey

Summary:

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

Notes: Yet another time travel fixit! also excellent. the teasing was HYSTERICAL. also Im just going to say this now - CirrusGrey in general writes incredible tma fic. You can’t really go wrong.

unassigned supplementals by  bibliocratic 

Notes: I won’t put in a summary just because it’s a long series of oneshots, but bibliocratic’s writing is amazing. Again, you can’t really go wrong with one of their fic!

let the soft animal of your body by autoclaves

Summary:

Standing in the warm kitchen, slats of sepia light filtering through onto the counter in front of him, Martin doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He half expects them to go through the countertop entirely, glossy and solid as it is. He isn’t used to any of it, yet. The safehouse. Jon. Beams of sun pouring into his hands. After being deprived of everything of significance for so long, the longing that crashes over him is almost painful in its tangibility. He wants to laugh, to sob, to scream and hear it echoed back against the neat, square walls of the safehouse.

In the end, he doesn’t do any of these things. He makes eggs instead. He can do that, can’t he? Use his hands for something simple and plain and good.

(Or: In the safehouse after it all, Martin starts cooking.)

Notes: this fic really speaks to me a) because i project on martin like crazy and b) because food is also my love language. this fic is incredibly soft and it’s all about cooking!

“Have you tried turning it on and off again?” by shinyopals

Summary:

I hope you find your new role as Head of the Institute as rewarding as captaining the Tundra, wrote Elias Bouchard, to Peter Lukas. There are so many people working there: all with their own interesting lives, and all desiring your attention and support. I'm sure you will relish the challenge it will bring and enjoy every moment spent with the fine men and women of the Institute. In time I'm confident they'll become like a family to you.

The Magnus Institute has a new boss. The Magnus Institute also has a new tech support technician. These two facts are unrelated, except they both happen at the same time.

Meanwhile Jon's woken up from being dead for six months and for once he's trying his best. He just wishes Martin would stop avoiding him and answer his messages...

Notes: if you’re looking for a good laugh, this fic is SO SO SO FUNNY. i was dying. basically the magnus institute being an absolute bureaucratic nightmare.

hello my old heart  by  firebirdsuite

Summary:

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

Notes: it’s all about the yearning. and trust me, the yearning in this fic? im just. i sure do love jonmartin, and this is such soft, loving jonmartin it just makes you want to cry

two ships passing by pyrites

Summary:

Gerard Keay is 10 years old the very first time he tries to run away from home, right around the time that Jonathan Sims has just come into possession of his first Leitner.

Or: One dropped stone can change the way the whole ocean moves.

Notes: again, JONGERRY. MY GOODNESS. this fic is beautiful, the writing is absolutely breathtaking and it owns my heart. im so in love with it. the author said you’re going to have emotions about jon and gerry and jongerry and i said OKAY

Terminal Sight by viv_is_spooky

Summary:

Spider silk weaves through the visions of two Seers. Monstrosity is dawning on them both.

Notes: I’d never read a gerryoliver fic before this, but the execution is EXCELLENT and now im sold on the ship forever. This fic has wonderful prose and great characterization and i love it a whole lot.

Incomplete

assistant archivist au by  PitViperOfDoom

Notes: I won’t put a summary since I’m reccing an entire series, but. it is absolutely no secret that i adore jongerry. pit’s assistant archivist au slapped me over the head with some gorgeous jongerry oneshots and then gave me the gift of the main fic (which is still in progress) about head archivist martin. i love this au so so much

dustsceawung by  callmearcturus

Summary:

Martin had always been favored by the summer courts, and moving up north to the little village of Lacuna is a difficult adjustment. It's rainy and lonely and everyone seems to have a strange, distant relationship with the local faerie court.

However: there is a strange man in a cloak who walks past Martin's remote little cottage every few days.

However: there is a moth that keeps getting stuck in Martin's house during the rain.

These events are not as disconnected as they first appear.

Notes: you ever just read a fic that you didn’t know that you needed until after you read it? yeah. featuring the fae and moth jon and excellent characterization.

Illicio by ThatOneGirlBehindYou

As the new Archivist debates between life and death, the Eye ponders on what to offer him in order to avoid an encore of the unfortunate situation with his predecessor.

-----

Gerard Keay opens his eyes at what feels like fuck-ass in the morning, inside a room with far too little space and far too much dust.

Notes: This is also the moment where I reveal that im a sucker for jongerrymartin. please read this fic. gerry is brought back from the dead in s4 and everyone is far better off for it.

where there’s a will, we make a way by bubonickitten

Summary:

"So, what does happen if an Eye learns to See within itself?

What happens is this: the Archive Beholds the Watcher – and the Watcher blinks first."

________________________

Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Notes: this time travel fixit is shaping up to be an absolutely incredible read. i love the way this author writes jon so so much, and the characterization is spot on. this whole fic just satisfies some little part of me. god. also!! bubonickitten’s writing in general? beautiful. please check out their other works.

The Timeline of Theseus by Applea

Jon tries to force the Spiral to send him back, but the Sprial's corridors never twist things quite the way you want them to. Back in 1996, Elias has no idea why or how the Eye made such a powerful Avatar out of an 8 year old, especially when said 8 year old doesn't actually know he has any powers at all. Clearly such a child cannot be left outside the Institute's care. 

Notes: This fic is legitimately brilliant. The author manages to capture the big ADHD mood and the precociousness of baby Jon while managing to write a wonderful storyline. Time travel! Elderly lesbians! A Jonah who is wildly in over his head but was walloped over the head with paternal instinct! Baby Gerry! What more could you possibly ask for?

rooms full of people who do not love each other yet by seaer

Summary:

“Wanted to ask about a book.” The boy has his hand on the counter, and he leans into it, nonchalant. The library is air-conditioned, but by no means frigid, and Jon can’t help but feel sweaty just looking at the layers he’s wearing; what looks like old leather over an olive-green Magnus pullover over his school shirt. “Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Jon says, tetchily, “We’re about to close.”

“I know. Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Notes: I am so in love with this author’s writing style and the way they write the characters!! The jon and gerry friendship is PERFECT and the character interactions are all darling.

if you read these fics please send the authors some love, they definitely deserve it!! 

[x0401x]

Given Movie: Anime Eiga Interview

The adult trio of “Given”, Nakazawa Masatomo, Eguchi Takuya and Asanuma Shintarou – finding out about each other’s appeal through proffering a deep love.

The sequel to the TV series that adapted Ms. Kizu Natsuki’s popular BL manga into an anime came in the form of “Given the Movie” and made its appearance in the big screen. Along with sensible expressions of emotion, this series depicts the circumstances of youthful love connected by music, capturing the hearts of the viewers. The movie portrays the “bitter and passionate love” between the band’s “adult members”, Haruki and Akihiko, as well as Akihiko and his ex-boyfriend, the genius violinist Murata Ugetsu, whom he continues to live with even after breaking up. Hence, this time, we have hit up Nakazawa Masatomo, the voice of Haruki, Eguchi Takuya, the voice of Kaji Akihiko, and Asanuma Shintarou, the voice of Ugetsu. What kind of appeal did they sense from one another after co-acting in roles where they had to proffer intense love? We had each of them discuss their thoughts.

Discovering the charm of the characters anew in a movie where the feelings of each accelerate.

——The movie is about the romance between Haruki, Akihiko and Ugetsu. The thoughts that they had been concealing are exposed, so what were your impressions when you read the script?

Nakazawa: In the TV series, Haruki, the character I play, was thinking about “wanting the band to do well” and “what he should do for the band’s sake”, being a “sideline support” for Mafuyu and Ritsuka, together with Akihiko. Haruki and Akihiko are said to be part of the “adult group”, but the two of them have their own ways of thinking - Akihiko is the type that aims for good things by taking action using a detonator. On the other hand, Haruki is always calmly concerning himself with everyone, so that they can do things freely. Both of them listened to Mafuyu’s singing voice, were influenced by it and suffered changes, so I felt from the script that I could get a glimpse at these changes. Regarding Haruki, he started feeling his own loneliness more strongly, and while watching Mafuyu display his musical talent more and more, he also had a complex about being just an ordinary person who liked music a little bit. I felt like we were able to see what Haruki was carrying under the surface.

——Were there any points where you felt the appeal of Haruki and Akihiko all over again?

Nakazawa: There were. Haruki never tells Akihiko that he likes him and does his best to hide it. It’s totally obvious, though... (laughs). Through Haruki, I felt that there are things you convey not with words but with feelings, and on the other hand, there are things that can finally be conveyed when you put them into words.

——Eguchi-san plays the role of Akihiko. Please tell us your impressions of the script.

Eguchi: I had read the original work, so I was looking forward to seeing the hearts of everyone from the “adult group” being moved and them putting an end to things. When I read the script, this is quite obvious, but I had many lines (laughs). Akihiko shows in it a part of himself that he never had until then, so destroying something like a sculpture of Akihiko that the TV series had warmed up was necessary work. Moreover, it was the kind of scrip that allowed for all kinds of fun, such as how long the monologues and narrations should be, so I felt a strong sense of compensation from it. During the recordings, I first tried throwing in what I had come up with. The team makes you want to create something together with them, so I felt like making up my mind and challenging myself. I was very happy to be able to take on the challenge.

——When you threw it in, were you able to see a new side to Akihiko’s appeal?

Eguchi: “So he was THAT compassionate?!” was what I thought. Akihiko is always cool, so I wondered when his emotions would take a swing, but I think this was a sign that he was afraid of “changing the present”. In the movie, I had to carry out the job of Akihiko properly facing all sorts of things and doing a retake on his true feelings. He gave off more of an adult impression until that point, so I think I got to see a more realistic, young part of him.

——Asanuma-san plays the role of Ugetsu, who continues living with Akihiko after breaking up.

Asanuma: There were few episodes in the TV series where Ugetsu showed up, but even in them, there are crucial scenes in which you can get a glimpse that “Ugetsu is this kind of person”. It’s exactly because he is a genius that he acts indifferent about anything other than music, gets fawned on in a genius-like way that makes people think, “If he says so, then there’s no helping it”, and has great interest in people like Mafuyu, whom he feels sympathy for. There’s a scene in the movie where Ugetsu and Mafuyu meet for the first time, and when I read the script, I felt that “Ugetsu approached Mafuyu with honest feelings”. It’s because he has sympathy for Mafuyu that he ends up telling him things that he can’t say to Akihiko face-to-face, such as “I love Akihiko to death”, and shows a side of himself that he usually doesn’t show to other people. It seems he speaks out his feelings when he’s with Mafuyu for some reason, which made me wonder if it isn’t Mafuyu who has the power to make people act like that.

——Ugetsu has a mysterious charm as a character. Was there anything you deemed as important when performing him?

Asanuma: It was my first time taking part in a BL show, but I felt that “Given” is a series that portrays emotions very delicately, down to the details. When performing, it’s exactly because the depictions of emotions are detailed that I make sure not to be “too theatrical”.

Love becomes more complicated as you grow older?

——In the TV series, we were able to see Mafuyu and Ritsuka’s high schooler-like romance, yet the movie is about an “adult love”, where they are “going through unfulfilling and agonizing situations, but no matter what, they like each other”. Was there anything you felt seeing their love?

Asanuma: There are things that we end up complicating precisely because we have accumulated experiences as adults. It’s because we know about all sorts of things that we don’t want to get in the other’s way and feelings of inferiority towards the other are born. When you’re a child, you don’t think much about things such as “pulling away because you think too much about the other person”, for example. There are many things we have to face when we become adults, so we might turn the feeling of “romantic love” around in complicated ways.

Nakazawa: I think “being able to break up once and for all” is important in adult romance as well. Not clashing with each other like, “I can’t do this with you anymore!” and parting ways, but instead ending it with, “If that’s how it is, it might be better for us not to be together anymore” after learning about each other’s circumstances is also a form of love. I think that reflecting about not just the feeling of “love”, but also about what you should do to make the “we can’t be together anymore” that lies ahead into a reality is what adult romance is.

Asanuma: They’re called the “adult group”, but they’re not adults yet. Even I, who am in my 40’s, have yet to come across anything like an “unconditional love”...

Eguchi: I believe this is valid for all kinds of romantic love, but I think it’s about being together with someone because you find that person to be an “irreplaceable existence”. And it’s because they’re irreplaceable that going out with them isn’t the goal, and the couple has to properly face one another. Also, when I looked at their romance, I felt it’s precisely because they like and are close to each other that there are words between them that they can’t say. They might have had a different relationship if they had conveyed those words, but there are words that can’t be conveyed exactly because this possibility exists. I think humans are extremely complex.

“Eguchi-kun is sharp!” – A casting that fit perfectly.

——What kind of appeal did you feel in each other’s acting and personalities through “Given”?

Nakazawa: The way that Asanuma-san bears a “quiet intensity” when playing as Ugetsu is very charming.

Asanuma: For real!?

Eguchi: And you’re also too good at putting on the air of a genius!

Asanuma: It’s only putting on, though. I have to make sure not to take it off too soon (laughs).

Eguchi: It had me thinking, “The way he envelops himself in the air of a genius is just genius!” Asanuma-san can push and pull splendidly. I was thinking, “He’s so awesome” when I watched it.

Asanuma: There are times when I tend to explain things with my voice no matter what. Before, in a different work, the sound director told me, “The animation is already doing the explanation, so you don’t have to try to explain with your voice so much.” In works like this one, where the subtleties of the characters’ hearts are so detailed, I think it’s even more important to bear in mind “not being too theatrical”, without deeming it as an exception just because it’s a BL, but instead seeing it as a love pattern that could happen anywhere and performing naturally.

——What is your impression of Nakazawa-san?

Asanuma: Nakazawa-san is tolerance incarnate! He can be no one but Haruki.

Eguchi: That’s right. He gives off a “mom” vibe (laughs). He’s like that during the recordings too; Nakazawa-san himself is a very soft person.

Asanuma: And although he may disagree, “looking troubled” suits him.

Nakazawa: I disagree!

All three: (Burst into laughter).

Asanuma: Since being troubled suits you, it feels like people gather around you, thinking that they “want to try and give you trouble” without any ill intent.

Nakazawa: That rings a bell (laughs). Indeed, I myself think that I have a Haruki-like side too. I also have a side that accepts basically anyone and any kind of comment... As for Eguchi-kun, if nothing else, he’s sharp! In terms of voice quality, his tone is low-pitched and solid, so the acting that he brings out is extremely sharp. There’s a fineness to it where it acts as a detonator, especially in “Given”, as if it will set fire, to his heart’s contentment, to anything that seems inflammable. He pulls off an acting that has an explosiveness to it, as he takes ahold of the important points while performing in a natural manner, so I have a lot of trust in him.

Asanuma: Eguchi-kun gives off a sense of broad-mindedness and security. Not because his body is big, though (laughs). I feel that he’s something like an emotional bodyguard. It was my first time in a BL series, but when I heard that Eguchi-kun would be the other party, I vaguely thought that “everything will go well”.

Eguchi: Thank you so much!

[blu-joons]

You’re Hesitant With Affection ~ Jeon Jungkook

As he picked you up for your date, he had a wide smile on his face when you answered the door, he stepped into your home, as you invited him, needing a few more minutes to sort yourself out.

“You look really nice,” he told you, standing in front of you with a smile. You smiled back at him, closing the door quietly, not to disturb your neighbours. “How have you been?”

You nodded, straightening out your dress, “yeah, I’ve been nice and busy with work, nothing too exciting has been going on though, what about you? How’s everything with your band?”

“Yeah, it’s been good,” he informed you, resting his hand onto the small of your back as you walked in. Your eyes darted down to see what he was doing, turning out of his grip so you walked beside him.

Jungkook shrugged, placing his hand back into his jacket pocket, instead nudging your side with his arm. You looked across at him with a blank expression, opting to increase the distance between the two of you.

The first time he let things pass, but the second time most definitely caught his attention, the two of you had only been together for just over a month, so he tried not to think much of it.

When you stopped in the living room to make the final adjustments to your hair, you felt his arms wrap around your waist, studying you closely. You could tell Jungkook had decided to take a step up tonight, being far more affectionate than he ever had been before around you, leaving you slightly stunned.

His head rested onto your shoulder, peppering several kisses to your back, tickling against the back of your neck, admiring what you’d done with your hair. You stopped as he did so, waiting for him to let go before you carried on.

“Is everything alright?” He asked you, squeezing you closer into his body, moving so he could look at you properly, meeting your eyes, filled with concern and anxiousness.

“No, I’m fine,” you replied, but he could tell straight away that things weren’t as they seemed.

He didn’t want to push anything but promised himself to keep an eye on you tonight, he didn’t want to mess things up and upset you when things had only really just begun.

Once you were done with your hair, you tried to walk around to grab your purse, but Jungkook’s hold around you prevented you from doing so. “Let go of me please Jungkook.”

“A-alright,” he stuttered, removing his arms from around you. You walked around to grab your purse, stopping when you saw his eyes staring across at you. “Are you sure that you’re alright? I just have a feeling that there is a problem between us.”

Your head shook, biting nervously at your bottom lip. You went to walk, but Jungkook stopped you, he didn’t touch you, but how close he was still made your body tense.

“You really don’t need to worry, let’s just head out, shall we?”

He refused to budge, the reservation at the restaurant could wait until he knew what was going on with you. You thought he hadn’t, but he quickly realised the way your body flinched when he got too close to you, he’d never seen you like that before.

“Just tell me what’s on your mind,” he requested, smiling softly. He didn’t want to scare you, or worry you, all he wanted was to be there for you and support you.

Once again you refused to speak, he stood before you finding it harder and harder to stay calm, wishing there was a way of dragging it out from you.

“I’m just not used to all this affection, I don’t know what to do and what is right and wrong,” you finally told him, looking away from his eyes and down to the floor.

He nodded, cautiously bringing his hand up to rest on your arm, trying to bring you some comfort, you looked up as a result of his touch, smiling weakly towards him.

“You don’t need to worry about doing the right thing, just do what comes natural,” he assured you, running his hand along your arm.

Jungkook was your first serious relationship, you’d had the odd fling here and there, but something felt so different, and right with him. At times the love he gave you felt quite overwhelming, it was nothing that you’d ever felt before.

“Is there something I did to make you anxious or upset?”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured him, “I just start to panic because I don’t always know how to react, but I don’t want you to think bad of me either.”

He sighed, bringing his other hand so it rested on your arm too, pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist, letting you relax against him. “I don’t think bad of you at all, I appreciate that this is all new to you,” he comforted.

It felt amazing for you to be in his hold, he was incredible, kinder than you could have ever imagined, you feared he wouldn’t understand or that he’d make you feel uncomfortable for feeling so out of place in his company.

“We can take things at your pace,” he assured you.

You looked up, meeting his eyes, watching his head nod to establish his point. He was sincere and genuine, two things you’d never had in your life. Jungkook was more than happy to take things slow, just as long as you were happy and with him.

“Being in a proper relationship is still something I’m trying to get used to,” you admitted to him, “it sounds so silly to say but I just don’t always know what to do.”

“That’s a part of being in a relationship,” he told you, “everyone is learning things about their partner every day, even those that have been together for several years don’t know everything about each other. And now I know this about you we can work on this and I won’t push you too far now or make you feel uncomfortable.”

You smiled appreciatively at him, “it means a lot that you’ve been so nice about this, I was terrified that you’d end up getting mad at me.”

He squeezed you a little bit tighter, swaying you lightly. Sometimes words weren’t needed, actions were, they were only little actions, but they bought a smile to your face, which was all that he wanted at a time like this.

“Maybe we could just stay here tonight,” he suggested.

Your eyes widened, pulling away from his chest, “we don’t have to do that, you organised that meal tonight, we have to go,” you tried to reason with him, but he refused to listen, poking against your cheeks.

“We can just stay here, order a takeout and cuddle on the sofa, we don’t need to do anything fancy,” he told you, sitting you down on the sofa.

You curled into his side, nervously stretching your arm around his waist, “only if you’re sure that’s what you want to do too.”

“We’ll do what makes you happy, because that makes me happy too.”

---

Masterlist

[ridiculously-over-obsessed]

Bechloe for the angst one :D

Yesss, we do love some Bechloe angst 😂

Who is more likely to get injured doing small tasks:

Beca definitely. Chloe is always joking that she should have become a people doctor rather than an animal one, and is forever having to buy band-aids and antiseptic wipes in to fix Beca up when she somehow manages to cut her self making cereal. 

Who worries more about the other:

Chloe. She’s always been a worrier, but it’s always worse when it comes to the people she loves. Beca loves that Chloe worries about her but it can be draining sometimes when Chloe is really in her own head, especially when Beca is away on tour and Chloe is texting her constantly, calling her when she doesn’t respond to three text messages in a row. It’s not that Chloe is crazy possessive, it’s just that when the people she love leave her for long periods of time they very rarely come back.

Who is more afraid about the other leaving them:

Both. Beca is always terrified that Chloe will leave her just like her dad left her mom, because no matter how perfect a relationship looks on the outside it only takes on pharmaceutical rep to destroy it (no matter how many times both her parents tell her that there was so much more going on). Chloe is used to losing people that she loves suddenly and out of the blue that she can’t shake the feeling that one day Beca is going to just up and disappear one day too.

Who is more likely to leave (for any reason):

Beca. She has never had the model of a healthy relationship and every time her and Chloe have the slightest fight or disagreement she catastrophises and convinces herself that their over. Normally Chloe can talk her down and Beca has been getting better, but after a huge fight (which neither of them can remember who or why it started) Beca spins out and runs to Seattle to her mom. Thankfully, Chloe understands what’s happened, and despite the fact that she’s still mad about the fight and a little mad at Beca for just running away, Chloe puts her fears to one side about Beca leaving her and goes to Seattle to fix things.

Who is more likely to drunkenly confess:

Both. College-age Bechloe are dumbasses and pining idiots and the Bellas are sick of them tiptoeing around it so hope that getting them a little drunk will help them be more loose lipped with their feelings. It backfires a little when Beca and Chloe get drunker than they mean them too and giving all the tension there has been lately, and it’s in the middle of a fight about the Worlds and Beca not telling Chloe about the internship that Beca blurts out “Has it ever occurred to you that the reason I worry about you obsessing over Worlds like this is because I love you and I’m worried about you?” to which Chloe yells back “Yeah well did you ever think that the reason I’m so mad at you for hiding stuff from me is because I love you too?” There’s a beat whilst they both try and take this in, realising what they just said. It’s not the most romantic way of doing things, but at least they can stop tiptoeing around it now.

Who is more likely to push the other away (for any reason):

Beca, she says it herself she pushes everyone away. Even after years of knowing Chloe she still feels like it’s safer to pull away and keep her cards close to her chest because it means that she won’t be heartbroken when Chloe inevitably leaves her. It doesn’t matter how often Chloe tries to tell her that it’s okay to feel her feelings, that Beca talking to her about the deep stuff isn’t going to make her run away, Beca still struggles to open up to her. Over the years she gets better at it, but there’s always a part of her that she wants to keep to herself just in case.

Who picks fights more often:

Surprisingly, Chloe. It’s Beca that holds back her feelings and pushes away, but it’s Chloe that picks a fight when she’s frustrated, and her temper can be as firey as her hair. More often than not, it’s the only way to get Beca to be honest about how she’s feeling and Chloe hates it. In the later years of their relationship they’ve moved past behaviour like this, but Chloe is still the one that picks a fight, even if they’re more teasing these days than an actual argument.

Who usually apologizes first:

Beca usually apologises constantly and for every little thing that doesn’t need apologising for, but when it comes to the big stuff it’s Chloe that apologises first (usually because she started the fight). Beca and Chloe can both be hot tempered and hard headed, but they always apologise and talk about it in a healthy way afterwards. Just because they’re emotionally driven people doesn’t mean that they’re disrespectful of each other and can’t recognise when they’re in the wrong.

Who is more likely to withhold their feelings for the other:

Beca. She’s really bad about talking about how she feels as it is. Beca constantly feels like how she feels is somehow wrong or inadequate in some way so keeps it to herself. She’s been in the closet so long that it’s amazing she can find her way out of it, scared of what her dad will say, what her mom will say, what the Bellas will say. And more than that, Beca doesn’t feel worthy of Chloe. Of this bright eyed, bubbly, beautiful woman who sees something in Beca that she can’t see in herself and never has. Chloe does hide her feelings from Beca, yes, but only because she doesn’t think she feels the same way and she’s a lot more open and tactile with her anyway.

Who is more likely to lash out at the other:

Chloe. Neither of them are ever physical obviously, but Chloe’s temper is red hot, and with that comes some very aggressive verbal moments that Chloe immediately regrets and wants to take back. Beca very rarely brings out this response from Chloe, it’s only happened twice in their whole relationship, but it’s a side of Chloe that she never expected and doesn’t really like... except when Chloe is defending her and their family (Bellas and otherwise). Then? Well, then it’s kinda hot...

Who gets more jealous:

Chloe. She doesn’t mean to, but when Beca is away on tour and she’s stuck in New York at vet school or the clinic it’s hard not to be jealous of all the people who do get to spend loads of time with Beca. Chloe does not think for a minute that Beca will cheat on her, that’s not what it is. It’s that she sees all these people who get to be around Beca all the time whilst Beca is her amazing self and singing and performing (something that has always been a bond between the two of them) and it feels, sometimes, like she’s losing that bond with Beca, the thing that bonded them together in the first place. It’s their thing. 

Who is more likely to support the other in a relationship with someone else “as long as they’re happy”:

Chloe. She did for all four years of Beca dating Jesse. Seeing him and Beca together always broke her heart, but she would convince herself (and Aubrey who would often tell her to just get over herself and tell Beca how she felt) that Beca was happy and that’s all that mattered. If she knew how unhappy Beca had been with Jesse, how wrong it felt, how much Beca wished she’d kissed Chloe instead of Jesse after the ICCA finals, then she would have kicked herself for not speaking out sooner.

These were so much fun!!! Thanks mate!!! 💖🥰

Send me a ship and I’ll give you my angsty or domestic headcanons!

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

I know we are all discussing the latest episode of Season 16, but I need to wrap up 11 for my own sanity (because there is a LOT to discuss in my Season 12 rewatch already), so without further ado - more rambling for you.

I’m not going to include 11x20: Don’t Call Me Shurley because I think I’d like to do an entire Chuck - arc - series.  Rob Benedict is a gift; that dad mug kills; and I love that the fan theories about Chuck spinning around this fandom for years turned out to be correct after all (WEIRD HOW THAT HAPPENS WITH CHARACTERS EH).  Moving on.

As you will recall, two recaps and many many many crackhead other posts from my corner of super hell ago, I ended the 11x18 recap with this image of Amara realizing...”something” after Dean said Cas’s name (just before she took Casifer with her), Dean/Amara unbreakable connection be damned. Speaking of unbreakable connection this post is partially the AMARA DISSERTATION.  Buckle up.

FF to 11x21: All in the Family; the boys are shooting the shit with Chuck and in the meantime, Amara is torturing Casifer.  Important to note that just recently the actual Cas was enlightened that Dean wants him to cast Lucifer out, so I presume he is a little more active at this point, and that strengthens the following hypothesis.  Look how Amara is looking at Casifer here:

And here, right before she touches him on the chest.

It’s the same look she gave Dean. She’s trying to decipher something; trying to figure something out. 

She appears to Dean in the VERY next scene, to show him how she is torturing Casifer.  But the real point is, of course, to show him how its affecting the physical form of Cas, reminding him its not just Lucifer who is suffering.  It works.  

DEAN 

Amara is – she's in my head. [Sam looks at him sharply] Hey, I didn't ask for it, okay? She just showed up. But she's showing me visions of – of Lucifer. By Lucifer, I mean Cas, and he looks like crap – like she's really doing a number on him.

***Note, yet again, despite the *connection* Amara/Dean supposedly share, all he can think about and talk about is Cas.

And Amara knows it.  That’s the realization she has in 11x18.  Dean loves Cas.  Then, in 11x21 she realizes Cas loves Dean.  So, she uses it to her own ends.  Smart girl.  

Enter Donatello (I love him), prophet of (not) the Lord.  He, Metatron, and Sam set out to rescue Casifer while Dean distracts Amara.  If we start with the presumption she now has the prior additional insight, the following snippets of dialogue hit a little different.

AMARA

This place, this world hasn't been especially easy for you. Why not at least consider my offer?

*********

DEAN

You're right. I am drawn to you. And it bothers the hell out of me, 'cause I can't control it.

AMARA

Then why fight it? What you're feeling is that I am the end of your struggle. 

***AHEM, this was not the FACE CUPPING I requested.

What keeps Dean from having it all?  What is his struggle?  It’s not the monsters or the hunting.  Dean’s repeatedly shown he loves this life; he doesn't want anything else (and the one time he did try it in Season 6, it was half-ass at best, and he left the minute Sam returned to go back to hunting).  Dean’s KEY struggle in the show is internal.  He represses his feelings, pushes his pain aside, resulting in a cycle of self-loathing and anger.  That cycle keeps him from having it all - accepting he can be loved, allowing himself to give his heart to someone else.  And at this point, Amara not only knows that someone else is Cas, she knows that Cas feels the same way.  Girl, welcome to super hell.  Take a damn seat by Sam.

11x22: We Happy Few

I’ll skim through this one so this post doesn’t completely make your eyes bleed due to the sheer length.  

The splicing with the scenes of everyone assembling different factions to form the new “line-up” needed to trap Amara is excellent. I’ve already done a short post on the brilliance of Dean heading to get Crowley and the ex-boyfriend mood of it all (Dean, of all people, telling Crowley to sober up gives me an ENTIRE head canon of the Crowley/demon!Dean unseen dynamic in Season 10).   And of COURSE Dean knows exactly what to say to convince Crowley to get on board. I also enjoy our future Sam-witch as the emissary to Rowena (”three’s a coven” would be a great tattoo, TBH).

BONUS:

I love her.

Big fight scene with Amara ensues, but this isn’t the finale so she cannot be beaten.  However, right before she mortally wounds Chuck, she does this:

[Yelling, LUCIFER charges her from behind again, but AMARA flings him hard against a support pillar across the room.]

AMARA

Goodbye, nephew.

[She banishes LUCIFER. CASTIEL slumps unconscious to the floor.]

DEAN: Cas! 

(He rushes AMARA, but she flings him away without effort.)

***She banishes Lucifer.  She could have just killed him.  Ended him entirely, and Cas along with him.  But she BANISHES LUCIFER.  Because of what she learned in the prior episode.  Because of the pain she saw in both of those idiots.

She does this for Dean.

Anyway, thank you Casifer FOR YOUR SERVICE.  I miss you already.

11x23: Alpha and Omega

There is nothing more precious than Dean sending his brother to check on GOD while he goes to check on his boyfriend:

DEAN: [Grunting]

Check on him.

SAM: [kneels next to Chuck]

Hey. Chuck?

[Dean kneels down next to Cas and puts a hand on his shoulder. Cas stirs and looks up at Dean]

CAS:

Dean.

DEAN:

Cas? Hey, is that you?

***All the heart eyes for the reunion!!

*********ALSO SHOULDERRRRRRRR

Chuck is dying, Rowena bonds with him.  Crowley is gold in this finale.  I MISS YOU MARK.  This line is NOT in the transcript/script I used, and it potentially being ad libbed makes it even better.

Dean decides to deal with the end of the world by drinking ONE beer, then deciding there is “not enough” beer and grabbing Cas for a beer (and....*feelings*) run.

DEAN:

You know what? This isn't gonna be enough. I better make a run.

[Sighs]

No reason to die sober, huh?

[to Sam]

You want to?

SAM: [frustrated] 

No!

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

DEAN:

Be right back.

SAM:

I'll stay here, find our Plan B.

DEAN:

Okay. Cas, come on.

Nothing makes me more pleased than the assumption that of COURSE Cas is coming with him.  I mean, he just got him back.  Also, Sam is frustrated because he is back in super hell, obvi ;)   

***Now we have the little “you’re our brother” bit in the Impala beer run dialogue, but to me it’s because Dean doesn’t know how else to express what he’s feeling.  Repression, people.  

The look of literal PAIN on Cas’s face at the “brother” line makes me cackle.  Misha Collins DESERVES AN EMMY; he is doing the Lord’s work with his Acting Choices here.

This little part before is what really gets me though, especially with all of the WORDS OF AFFIRMATION:

[Dean and Cas are driving in the Impala]

DEAN:

How you doing? You good?

I mean, you know, the whole Lucifer thing.

CAS:

I was just... so stupid.

DEAN:

No, no, no. It wasn't stupid.

You were right. You were right to let Lucifer ride shotgun.

Me and Sam wouldn't have done that.

CAS:

Well, it didn't work.

DEAN:

No, but it was our best shot, and you stepped up.

CAS:

I was just trying to help.

DEAN:

Well, and you do help, Cas.

***ITS JUST SO LOVELY.  Dean asking Cas how he is doing (what Cas always asks Dean); telling Cas he wasn’t stupid (throwback to Cas telling Dean he was stupid “for the right reasons”); acknowledging that Cas does HELP.  That he is important and appreciated.  THIS IS SUCH GROWTH.  I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Speak his love language, King.

Anyway, then Dean turns into a human bomb because martyr!dean gonna martyr and be “daddy’s (Chuck filling that role here) blunt little weapon” and we get -

THE DESTIEL GOODBYE. Tell me they didn’t actually go canon for the FIRST time here.  I will fight you.

LOOK at Cas watching him in the background. 

These fucking desolate eyes. I’m crying.

THEY JUST GOT EACH OTHER BACK -  

(I recognize this .gif is meh quality but I love that he turns and walks to him and Cas just GRABS him in this crushing hug)

DEAN [accepts the hug good-naturedly but then looks sad]

Okay, okay.

***”good naturedly??? ok Jensen “Acting Choices” Ackles. That is not “good nature” that is BLISS.

AND THEN THIS -

SOBS IN ENOCHIAN.

***I literally had to remind myself that the reunion hug is coming; it’s just an episode away.  I’ll make y’all feel better too; here it is - A PERFECT PARALLEL. Curse this show.

MORE OF THIS “GOOD NATURED” HUGGING PLEASE.

Anyways, back to depressing subtext.  

DEAN:

Okay, look. I want a big funeral.

All right? I'm talking epic.

Okay? Open bar, choir, Sabbath cover band, and Gary Busey reading the eulogy.

*****This scene lives in my mind rent-free as PROOF 15x20 doesn’t exist.

I can’t skip over further growth in Dean’s goodbye to Sammy.

***He’s being serious. Seasons 1-3 Dean would never have admitted this.  I was a blubbering mess at this point.

So, Dean heads to Amara, and the rest of the gang heads to the bar.

CROWLEY:

Your round, Moose.

***I would love an entire bottle episode of Crowley, Sam, Rowena, and Chuck at that bar TBH.

And then, Dean saves the day.  BUT NOT by dying and sacrificing himself, letting himself be used as a weapon of mass destruction.  No, he fixes the DAMN WORLD by connecting to Amara emotionally, and bringing her and Chuck back together, because he understands that not to be alone is what she really needs; that her own struggle is the same as his - letting in love instead of raging against it and fighting her own need for companionship.   Because that’s where ELDEST SIBLING AMARA AND Dean Winchester CONNECT.  Amara isn’t in love with Dean.  She identifies with Dean.  She sees her own feelings in him, her own pain, and that’s why she exorcises Lucifer and saves Cas - FOR Dean.  Amara’s just a Dean girl, everyone.   And we know Dean girls protect Cas at all costs.

Yup.  Amara Dean Girl Darkness Heller.  

That’s it.  That’s the dissertation.

See you in Season 12, where I will attempt to figure out the reason behind the British Men of Letters, killing Hitler, the brain melt that is Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox, the comedy of errors that is Cas playing Dean hot and cold, and the Mary Winchester of it all. 

[feral-pansexual]

The Butt of the Joke

A Wade Barnes (LordMinion777) X GN! Reader story

By: Sunflower 🌻

(In this fic, Wade never met Molly, no shade, I love Molly she’s totally cool)

You’d known the boys (Mark, Bob and Wade) since college when you had served them drinks at the local college bar. Eventually you became a central part of the group, when they all started doing Youtube you played multiplayer games with them but never on camera or with your real name, nor did you have your own channel, you just helped the boys grow thiers. On all their channels you were known simply as “Mud” , a nickname you had been given from the boys for having drunkenly tripped in a puddle splashing mud all over yourself and them the first night you’d met. You were always at Wade’s defense when Mark and Bob teased him on camera, quickly making you a favorite on all channels, everyday you’d have the boys tell you about how the fans really wanted for you to make your own channel. After a few weeks of pressure you eventually gave the fans what they wanted. Your very own channel, Mud[Prince/Princess] and facecam. Your first video on your channel was a Drunk Minecraft with the boys, soon after you all had uploaded your seperate videos, you got many comments from fans about how much they were surprised by your appearance as you usually played as (opposite gender) and had a pretty androgynous voice. But nonetheless they loved you. Years later, it's 2017 now, you were quite popular, despite your initial reluctance to show your face to the world it was now your full time career, well known for collabs with Wade in particular. You, as much as you wanted to move out west with Mark, decided to stay in Ohio with Wade and Bob. Mark invited and flew you all out to LA for a Truth or Death video just like he had done with Tyler and Ethan. It was your turn in the hot seat, meaning if you couldn't correctly interpret what Wade was saying and determine if it was a lie, you’d be dunked with a huge bucket full of ice-water. You had the loud songs of (Favorite artist) blasting in your ears and soundproof headphones over that so you had to rely on reading Wade’s lips. Wade tapped your shoulder to get your attention before speaking. You carefully read his lips, you couldn't put your finger on it but you sensed he was nervous about what he was saying.

You tentatively spoke “ I've had a brush on Mao since Kool-Aid?”

Wade shook his head. He held up one finger to signal that you had one more try. He spoke the sentence once more. You looked down at his hands and noticed that they were shaking. It clicked in your head.

This time you spoke with confidence “I’ve had a crush on you since college. Er False.”

Wade shook his head at you and Bob poured the freezing cold water over your head. He took the headphones off you and hugged you close.

It’s true, Y/N, I love you, and I was hoping to ask, if- if Mark doesn't mind me ruining his recording, if you’d go out with me, Mud?”

Before you could answer Mark interjected with “RUINED? DUDE THE FANS HAVE BEEN SHIPPING YOU TWO FOR YEARS, THEY’LL LOVE THIS. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”

Mark’s interjection was followed by laughter from everyone. After the laughter quieted down, you took a deep breath in.

“I’d love to, Wade.”

You stood on your tip-toes to reach the tall man’s lips and pulled his face down to meet yours in a short kiss for the camera. When your lips parted Wade’s face was red and he was sputtering trying to say something. Mark and Bob laughed their asses off as you interrupted Wade’s unintelligible stuttering with another kiss. This time his face was nearly beet coloured when you two parted. Amy cut the recording there for the day. After a day of edits the video was published and you and Wade were cuddling together on Mark’s couch scrolling through the comments. Most were just fan girls exclaiming that they had called this since the first Drunk Minecraft episode you appeared in, but a few had some very nice heartfelt words about how they supported you two no matter what you identified as. Wade leaned down and gave you a peck on the forehead.

“I love you Y/N.” he said softly.

~End~

You’re Gonna Laugh

A Bob Muyskens (Muyskerm) X GN! Reader story

By: Sunflower

(btw, in this fic, Bob never met Mandy)

You met Bob last year during the beginning of quarantine. You first met him when he had ordered some food from Grubhub, you delivered his food and smiled and waved. That was it until a few days later you started to get almost daily orders from Bob, you hated to admit it but you thought he was cute and whenever your best friend got orders from Bob you’d offer to do his orders instead. You saw Bob everyday now, sometimes twice, but for you it wasn’t enough. Seconds after driving away from his home you’d already be pining, wishing you could just work up the courage to say something, anything.

Bob’s P.O.V

I wish I could just say something to that cute delivery (gender). I can’t keep inviting Wade over to help me eat all this fucking food everyday. Ugh, I’ve got to say something to them tomorrow, I'm so tired of eating chinese everyday. I can do this.

“Wade I need your help with something important”

“Is this about that delivery person you keep ordering from? Because if I have to eat one more grain of rice I might vomit.”

“Yes, but don’t worry, you won’t have to help me eat for this. I just need you to-”

[Back to regular POV]

Y/N was so excited, another order from Bob. You looked nervously at the road, heart pounding in your chest, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You were over the stage of refusing to admit your crush, you were absolutely smitten with the man, from his soft smile to the way he looked down at his feet when you looked him in the eyes. You pulled up to Bob’s house and got out of your car. You had a plan, you had a bouquet of camellia flowers behind your back, you were going to ask him on a date. You knocked on the door and waited in tense silence for him to open the door. Bob opened the door dressed in a very nice black suit with a blue tie. You were confused but before you could say anything, Bob spoke.

“Please, Y/N come in, I have something to ask of you.”

He led you into his dining room and to his dining table, you set the food down on the table. There was a very nice set up, a vase with carnations, a single candle, empty plates set up with silverware.

“Please sit.”

You sat down awestruck. You fumbled and pulled out the camellia flowers.

“I got these for you, I was going to ask you on a date but it seems you beat me to the punch.” you laughed nervously. Suddenly Bob seemed to relax.

“We’re such doofuses, asking each other out at the same time.” he laughed, letting his shoulders relax. You laughed along with him. “Hey Wade! You were supposed to get us drinks!”

You heard an “Oh sorry Bob.” from the kitchen before a tall thin man in a similar suit brought you two nice cocktails. He grabbed the food you put on the table and your plates. “Food will be out in a minute.” said who you assumed to be Wade.

“Bob- this is so nice, thank you, honestly, I'm glad you asked first, I was about to puke from nerves.” you giggled into your hand. Bob just smiled at you.

“It’s the least I could do for someone as [beautiful/handsome] as you. Someone as kind as you. Someone as sweet as you. Someone who works as hard as you do. Honestly, if anything you’re doing me a favor.”

“Bob, you flatter me. But I’m not that great, but I do appreciate the compliment.” You smiled at him softly.

Bob smiled back. “WADE! HURRY UP WITH THE FOOD! Sorry about that Y/N, eer, well err, um-” Bob fumbled around with something in his pocket and looked at it under the table. “So do you just do delivery full time? Or do you have another job or are you still in college?”

“I’m also in a concert band, I play trumpet. So I only do delivery part time.”

“You play trumpet? I played the trombone!”

“Really? That's so cool! So what do you do for work?”

“I uh, I do Youtube, I play videogames.”

“Really? That's so cool! I wish I could get paid to play video games!”

Here's the end! If you have any requests for either Sunflower or Silver, feel free to ask. Ciao!

[atths--twice]

Christmas Gala, 1996

Mulder and Scully attend a Christmas gala in 1996, wearing the outfits they wore to the 1997 Golden Globes. How will it look to everyone when they arrive together? What will the gossips have to say?

The music from the band filled the room. Everyone in attendance looked very snazzy in their fancy clothes, much better than the usual business suits seen roaming the halls of the FBI.

Agent Mia Decker stood watching couples take to the dance floor. Some of them were partners sharing a dance before returning to their spouse or friends, and some were husbands or wives. They danced to the music and laughter was heard throughout the room.

The decorations were beautiful this year. This was Mia’s third year at one of these Christmas galas, and this year, 1996, was by far the best. The golden lights twinkled and the room smelled of Christmas trees. Mia looked around and her eyes landed on Assistant Director Skinner.

Oh my, she thought, he cleans up quite nicely. A crisp white shirt, black tuxedo, and he even had a smile on his face. Hmm, not bad. She kept looking around the room and she saw many agents she recognized. She saw Agent Pendrell constantly looking toward the door, his eyes lighting up when it opened and then his shoulders slumping when it closed. Mia smiled, she knew who he was looking for.

Everyone knew he had a crush on Agent Scully. Well, everyone except Agent Scully it seemed, Mia thought with a smile.

She had been in the lab recently when Agents Mulder and Scully had been asking Agent Pendrell questions about a case they were working on. Agent Scully had asked him many questions and Agent Pendrell hung on her every word, smiling a big goofy grin when Agent Scully had asked for his findings. Mia had watched him blush when she praised him for his work.

They had thanked him for his help and left the lab. Agent Mulder had held the door for her and whispered something in her ear as she had walked past. She had grinned at him, their eyes locking onto the other. Mia had never seen them interact, but had heard of their silent communication from her friend Holly. She had confided in Mia that she thought they were sleeping together, but Mia dismissed that idea. Every male/female partnership fell under that scrutiny and it was unfair.

Watching them as they had left the lab though, seeing for herself the looks they had given each other, she had not been so sure. They were definitely not like her and her partner, but that was not saying much as her partner was a no nonsense woman and Mia was not. They had not exactly meshed and become the best of friends.

Watching Agents Mulder and Scully though, she had been intrigued by them. They were on another level when it came to being in tune with one’s partner. She had glanced back over at Agent Pendrell and he had sighed as he also watched them leave. Mia had smiled at Agent Pendrell, he really had no chance.

Agent Pendrell was sweet, brilliant, and endearing, but he was no Fox Mulder, who seemed to exude sexuality without even trying. He had made an appearance in a few of her own nighttime fantasies and she had woken up very happy. Mia had walked past Agent Pendrell as she left and patted his arm. He had not needed to say anything, his knowing eyes had said it all.

Mia smiled now as she watched him, again watching the door. She walked over to him to offer her moral support. Silently of course, no need to draw attention to his crush and make him uncomfortable.

“Agent Pendrell,” she said, standing next to him, causing him to turn his head from the door. “You look very handsome this evening.”

He smiled at her and she saw him blush. He looked down and then back into her eyes. She grinned at him and he nodded.  

“Agent Decker, you look very beautiful,” he said with a smile.

“This old thing?” she said, waving to the new dress she had spent days searching for, making sure it was just right for the evening.

They both chuckled and she grabbed a waiter as he walked by, snagging a glass of champagne for each of them. She handed Agent Pendrell his and they clinked their glasses together.

The doors opened again, and she looked over at the same time as Agent Pendrell, and she heard him choke on his champagne. There stood Agents Mulder and Scully, standing in the doorway, looking a bit uncomfortable, but absolutely stunning.

Agent Scully was wearing a dress the color of the champagne they were drinking. It was floor length, had short sleeves, and a plunging neckline. Mia had never had feelings for a woman before, but seeing Agent Scully in that dress, she could understand why Agent Pendrell choked on his champagne. She was absolutely breathtaking. Her breasts alone were cause for a gasp and Mia could not stop staring at them, even though she knew it was not right. She shook her head and kept looking at her whole ensemble.

Diamond earrings, hair blown out and fluffier than Mia had ever seen, her makeup done to perfection, Agent Scully was a vision and Mia was sure every woman in the room was jealous of her beauty.

It was hard to drag her eyes away from her, but Mia made an effort. She looked at Agent Mulder and noted his discomfort. He wore a black tuxedo, the white collar up instead of down flat, the bow tie more of a satin ribbon around his neck. His hair was slicked backed a bit more than usual, but looked really good. God... really good.

Mia looked at both of them, as he placed his hand on her lower back, his mouth close to her ear. She smiled and walked into the room, with him following right beside her. They walked past Mia and Agent Pendrell, smiling as they did, heading toward A.D. Skinner.

“Breathe, Agent Pendrell,” Mia said under her breath as she looked at Agent Mulder’s hand on Agent Scully’s back, wondering how it would feel on her own.

Next to her she heard Agent Pendrell take a deep breath and set his drink down on the table next to them. He then took a few more deep breaths before he was able to speak.

“She looks gorgeous,” he said, standing close to Mia. “Well, she always does. I mean she is gorgeous. It’s not the dress, she is beautiful... oh my god...”

He turned away as Mia continued to watch them. It seemed half the room was also looking their way, whispering to one another, even pointing at them at times.

How rude, Mia thought. They were all adults and fellow agents. They should not act like teenagers at a dance who just caught two people making out in a closet. She rolled her eyes before she turned to Agent Pendrell.

“Come on, Agent Pendrell, I think we should dance,” she said, taking his hand without waiting for an answer, and pulling him to the dance floor.

She put his hand on her waist and the other in her own. She put her hand on his shoulder and they began to dance, or some version of it anyway. She knew he was still watching Agent Scully and she did not really care. She was trying something out, hoping it would work.  

She threw her head back and laughed loudly. Agent Pendrell looked at her in astonishment, but she did not explain why she acted that way. She moved her hand from his shoulder to his chest before she laughed again.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, his expression thoroughly confused.

“Finding you a dance partner,” she said quietly, hoping she was right. “Never underestimate the power of the fake laugh. It can...” Then she heard it.

“Excuse me, may I cut in?” Came a voice from behind her.

“Jackpot,” she said under her breath, looking into Agent Pendrell’s eyes. She winked at him and stepped back, allowing Agent Scully to step closer to him. She smiled at Mia before placing her hand in his, allowing him to guide her further onto the dance floor.

Mia grinned as she watched him visibly relax the more they danced. She even heard Agent Scully laugh for real and she knew he would hold that like a treasure in his heart.

“That was kind of you." She heard Agent Mulder say quietly behind her. She turned around and his eyes were full of laughter, his mouth lifting at the corners.

“Why yes, it was kind of me, to leave you partnerless. Whatever will you do?” she asked, with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Touché,” he said and put out his hand. She took it and he turned her to the dance floor. He put them in the correct dance stance and then led her across the floor.

“Fox Mulder knows how to dance?” she joked close to his ear. He laughed and blamed the country clubs he grew up around. She smiled back and she saw him look over at Agent Scully.

She watched him watch her and she knew. Maybe they were not sleeping together, but he loved her, she knew it without a doubt. His eyes roamed over her head to toe and then he looked back at Mia.

“You’re Agent Decker, right?” he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I am. But call me Mia. Agent Decker is so formal,” she said rolling her eyes.

He smiled and nodded. “You just solved that big homicide case, right?”

“Yeah, that was... a weird case. I actually almost came to you two for help, but my partner wouldn’t hear of it,” she said apologetically.

“Ah... you’re partners with Agent Connor right? Yeah, she and I are... not the best of friends,” he said with a goofy smile. Mia’s heart flipped over and she made a mental note to enjoy this moment, knowing she would never get it again.

“Let’s not talk shop anymore. It’s Christmas, Agent Mulder, the room is beautiful, the music is wonderful, and the company is quite nice. Let’s just dance,” she said, keeping the tone light.

He grinned and agreed. He pulled her a little closer and she breathed in his scent.

Sexuality...

She knew it.

Hopefully being this close, she would smell him on her for days. She closed her eyes as they spun around, his hand pressed to her lower back. So that was how it felt. She shivered at the intimacy of the gesture they did almost subconsciously. 

How did she handle it every day? Mia wondered. How did Agent Scully not combust when he touched her? He had his hand on her for one dance and she felt hot and flushed.

The music stopped and they turned toward the band and clapped. Mia looked over toward Agent Pendrell and saw Agent Scully say something to him and put her hand on his arm. He smiled at her and she headed over toward her and Agent Mulder. Her dress sparkled as she walked and Mia shook her head. She was truly beautiful.

“Agent Decker, right?” Agent Scully said, putting out her hand.

“Yes, but call me Mia,” she said, taking Agent Scully’s hand in a firm grasp, and shaking it.

“You just had that strange homicide case, right?” she asked.

“Yes, I was just telling Agent Mulder that I had considered coming to you two for help, but..” She shrugged, shaking her head.

“Agent Connor is your partner, right? Yeah... she and Mulder are not exactly on the best of terms." She laughed and Mia stood there stunned.

It was almost the same conversation, how did they do that? She saw her flick her eyes quickly to Agent Mulder's and his barely perceptible answering nod. Agent Scully smiled at Mia and excused them both as they walked again toward A.D. Skinner. They stopped before reaching him, Agent Mulder’s head close to hers again. She laughed as he stood back, a real laugh that came from deep within. He crooked out his arm and she took it, still laughing as they walked away.

Mia was in a state of shock. She felt frozen to the floor as the band began to play again. She shook her head to wake herself up, get out of her stupor. She moved off the dance floor, but kept an eye on them the rest of the evening. She saw A.D. Skinner and Agent Scully dancing, then she danced with Agent Pendrell once more. A couple other men had a turn dancing her around the floor, but never Agent Mulder. He watched her though, and her eyes always found him after each dance. A homing beacon always finding its way.

The party was beginning to wind down and Mia was ready to leave. She went out to the coat check and waited for her coat. She took it from the attendant and headed outside. It was freezing and smelled like it would snow tonight. She was sliding her coat on, when a door opened a bit further down from her, and two people walked out.

“You’ll be cold, Mulder.” She heard Agent Scully say as Mia finished putting on her coat.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he replied.

She saw that Agent Scully was wearing his tuxedo jacket and he had no coat, his hands thrust in his pockets. Mia saw him shiver, but Agent Scully did not see.

“Of all the nights to forget my coat,” Agent Scully said, turning toward him.

“Well, you’ll be in the cab in a minute, it should be fine,” he answered her.

She nodded at him as he stepped closer. Cabs were pulling in and leaving with their passengers, and no one seemed to be paying attention to them, except for Mia, who stepped a little closer and felt something on her face. She looked up and saw that it was starting to snow. She smiled and watched it fall for a minute.

Still smiling, she looked back at them and saw that he was brushing snow from her hair and then pulling his jacket tighter around her, trying to keep her warm. Agent Scully kept her eyes on him the whole time, a smile playing on her lips. They began to sway slowly, almost dancing, if one could call it that, as they did not actually move.

Now Mia knew why they did not dance inside the gala. If they had, they would have had to stand close and then everyone would have died because the ballroom would have spontaneously burst into flames What was up with these two? How did they affect others this way? They had to know their power. Right?

A cab pulled up and Agent Mulder glanced at it.

“This is yours,” he said in a low voice that sent a shiver down Mia’s spine. A bedroom voice that she filed away for future fantasies.

“Hmm...” Mia heard Agent Scully respond.

No one was around, save for the three of them, and the cab driver. It was quiet, the snow falling creating a peaceful feeling. He looked at Agent Scully and smiled. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, smiling as she stepped back.

He grinned back and Mia saw her hand reach for his. The jacket was long and covered her fingers, but Mia saw how their fingers locked together for a few seconds.

Agent Scully dropped his hand and he reached to open the car door for her. She stopped him and looked into his eyes again.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder,” she said, her hand on his chest. She stood up close and kissed his cheek again. Her hand moved to his face and her thumb ran softly across his lips.

Mia felt like a voyeur looking in on a very private moment. She was close enough to see all of this, but they seemed to not see her. She wondered if they really did not know she was there, or if they simply did not care. Nothing they were doing was overly sexual and yet Mia felt as though she was seeing them in the afterglow of lovemaking.

He smiled at Agent Scully as he opened the door and made sure she was all inside, checking that her dress was not hanging out of the car. He closed the door and the cab drove away, as he stood watching it before he shivered again and turned around.

His eyes widened when he saw Mia standing there. They stared at one another, neither saying anything. She saw his jaw clench and then he swallowed before stepping toward her, his hands again in his pockets.

“You’re heading out too?” he asked, his eyes traveling across her face, reading her expression.

“I am,” she said, trying to keep her own expression neutral.

“Hmm...” he said, rocking on his heels.

They were quiet for a minute. Mia would have loved to be inside his mind, wondering what he was thinking and how to approach how much to divulge to her, as he wondered what she had seen.

“She’s going away for the holidays,” he said, watching her intently again. “She’s stopping at her place, changing, and then heading out. She was just saying Merry Christmas.”

He held her gaze and he looked sad that she was leaving, and yet he seemed to be happy from the kisses she had bestowed upon him before she left. He could not stop his smile from creeping in when he stopped talking.

“Hmm...” Mia said, teasing him a bit, enjoying her time with him. He raised his eyebrows at her and she grinned. He smiled and they both started laughing.

The snow began to fall harder and Mia knew she needed to get home before the roads became too dangerous.

“Well, I should get home. This snow is going to start piling up. You should get home too,” she said to him. He nodded and looked around, watching the snow fall.

God, he really was a handsome man, she thought. She shook her head and took her keys from her clutch purse and put them into her coat pocket.

“You should get inside, as your coat seems to have left without you,” Mia said to him, bringing his attention back from the sky.

He looked at her, his eyes and expression different. He looked worried and on the verge of saying something. She shook her head at him and smiled, putting her hand out and waiting. He took his hand out of his pocket and grasped hers gently.

“Merry Christmas, Agent Mulder,” she said quietly, hoping to convey to him that she would not say anything of what she saw this evening.

He searched her eyes and he seemed to understand. His shoulders relaxed and he placed his other hand on top of hers. He held her hand between his and smiled at her, his relief almost palpable.

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek and she closed her eyes at the touch, as she breathed in his scent one last time. Jesus... but she could do bad things to this man. He stepped back and she smiled at him.

“Merry Christmas, Agent Decker,” he said with a grin, putting his hands back in his pockets. She smiled back and turned to walk away.

“Oh, Agent Mulder,” Mia said, turning around, seeing him heading back to the ballroom. He turned toward her, tilting his head, and shivering again. “Just wanted to remind you that we all saw Agent Scully in that dress.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, making sure he understood her words; how the men would be seeing Agent Scully in a different light after tonight. He nodded after a second and smiled slowly. She nodded back and turned around again. Glancing back once more, she saw him through the door to the ballroom. He raised a hand to her and disappeared inside.

She smiled as she walked to her car. She had, of course, heard of the office pool about whether they were sleeping together. She had never participated, finding it left her feeling uncomfortable. After tonight, she knew all those who gossiped about them would have more to whisper about. That dress alone would fuel the office fire for months and up the ante for those putting money in the pool.

She arrived at her car, opened the door, and got inside. She turned it on and shivered as she waited for the car to warm up. She touched her cheek where Agent Mulder had kissed her and she smiled. He really was a good looking man. And he was, without a doubt, one hundred percent in love with his partner.

She laughed, turned the heater on as hot as it would go, turned on the radio, and put the car in drive. She drove out of the parking lot and headed home.

She shook her head, thinking of the way they had looked at each other as they danced in their own way, while they waited for her cab. She hoped they would not wait too long to admit to each other what anyone with eyes could see. It may not be how partners were supposed to behave, but love.. it does not give a shit how it is “supposed” to do anything.

It showed up and let itself be known, waiting in silence, or getting right in your face until it was heard. She smiled as Christmas music filled the car, the snow fell steadily down, and she made a Christmas wish that they would listen, because love was definitely trying to get their attention.