#CONFESS TRASH TALK WE ARE SO IN THE TRENCHES

[deathbypufferfish]

After the Awards ceremony, Marinella helped throw an after-party for charity which went absolutely great. Despite the fact that Ume was distant all night.... And you're never going to believe this, but when they got home they fucking argued again. <3

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

I’m really curious. How would romanced companions propose to the sole survivor?

(also I love your blog, I always look forward to seeing your posts on my dashboard one way or another)

(I only did a couple now because the ideas hit me like a freight train when I first read the prompt- if anyone would like additional characters, please do not hesitate to ask)

Danse:

"There's..there's something important I would like to ask you..."

Danse, as terrible as he claims to be with emotions, would be anything but when it comes down to finally popping the question. This is primarily due to him planning the occasion out for weeks in advance, maybe even practicing in the mirror a couple times.

He'd make sure it was a special event, be it that he was still in the brotherhood or not. He'll take you out for whatever crappy wasteland food you want, even if it's something ridiculous like Salisbury steak. After which you may start to notice the unrest he begins to feel, his movements even more stiff- highlighted by his unusually power-armourless body. Eventually he will round the day off by asking you to look up at the wasteland stars with him, taking a couple noticeable deep breaths before he interrupts your tranquil star gazing by whispering your name.

One the few times you've ever seen Danse look fragile is when he finally pushed through his flowery words and asked you the question he had wanted to ask since he realized he loved you. His pretty eyes would be shiny from the happy tears that shamelessly formed whenever you said yes, allowing him to slide a humble metal ring upon your finger.

It was quite possibly the fondest memory Danse has.

Gage:

"Let's do it boss. You and me..we can take the world, together."

Of course, Gage would've had maybe a couple breakdowns when he realized what he wanted to do. It certainly wasn't typical for raiders to get married, then again, his relationship with you was nothing short of extraordinary.

Now, you should already know that Gage isn't the type of man to throw some big extravagant charade to ask for your hand- instead..he'll wait until your position as Overboss is sound. Sort of like..whenever the power was restored to the park. As a matter of fact, he couldn't have thought of a better time to act.

So with crimson flashes of light flaring off in the distance, Gage suddenly clasped your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. It would be a challenge to tear your eyes away from the glory of the fireworks, however seeing the equally as brilliant blush on his freckled face made it bearable.

His lips would form a straight line as he sighed, his one green eye looking you up and down before he finally spoke. If you were to ask him to repeat himself, he'll just chuckle and plainly ask if you were willing to make him "Mr. Overboss".

Maxson:

"Believe me when I say this, (y/n)...you've brought honor upon us all. Through victory or the promise of a brighter future- but now I must confess, nothing would bring me any greater honor than your hand. So, would you maybe be interested in being Sentinel Maxson?"

Arthur was a nervous wreck the entire time. You'd think with the pressure to marry someone looming over his head that this process would be easier- but it wasn't. Perhaps it was because he actually loved you...love always does seem to complicate things. Nonetheless, despite almost puking his guts up from nerves, he formally requested a day of leave for both himself and you.

Once that whole process was finished, he'd take you to the site of your very first "date", Nordhagen Beach.

From the very start you'd probably be able to see something was wrong. His hands were restless, his gaze not able to fixate on you for more than a few minutes..plus he was bright pink from his nose to the tops of his cheeks. In addition to this, each time he tried to speak, his words would come out horribly out of order if not with a shaky voice to boot.

It wasn't until you finally called him out on his peculiar behavior that he realized he needed to act fast. So, trying his very best to will away the gut wrenching anxiety he felt, he'd use his lovely overly formal style of diction to ask you the big question. However seeing as you started giggling the second he said "Sentinel", he thought that somehow he messed everything up and lost his chance...but thankfully, you were quick to kiss his flushed cheek and mutter your affirmation to him.

He didn't even know how to contain himself. He might've briefly felt like he was going to pass out.

Nick:

"Nothing in the whole world would make me happier if you became my permanent partner..(y/n) (l/n), will you marry me?"

Having the memories of a pre-war man, Nick has a very traditional sense of of proposal that you would probably expect. Much like Danse, he'll take you out to eat..only he'll make sure it'll be the nicest place a synth can get into. That and he'll actually trade out his tattered trench coat for a rather dashing suit ensemble.

The whole night would be magical. He'd take you around to look at the flashy lights of Diamond City, maybe go talk some "tasteful trash" about some of the upper stands people. He's game to do whatever you please..however when you get back home to the agency, you'll be faced with your robotic lover going down onto one knee and presenting you with a dainty box- popping it open to reveal a rather pretty ring and he pops the question.

[starryse]

Nervous Flirtation

Minghao x Reader

Fluff, some swearing, mentions of being anxious

1,735 words

Summary: with a little push from Seungkwan, Minghao & Y/n finally try being more than friends

“Your constant pacing is stressing me out,” the brunette patted at his sweaty cheeks, “can you please take a chill pill and sit down”

You turned your head, glancing at your friend who’s hand was shaking against his bouncing knee, “why are you stressed? I’m the one going on a date- and with Minghao?!” Your voice grew high at the end, hands fanning your face in hopes to cool down.

Seungkwan nodded his head, strands of hair falling in front of his eyes from the sudden movement, “I understand this is like, a new beginning for you guys, but remember, you were best friends first,” you stopped pacing, instead starting to chew your reddening lip as you awaited Seungkwans next words, “that won’t change just because you’re more than friends now.”

Oh how you hated he was right.

You sighed, a long breath slipping between your lips. Taking a seat next to Seungkwan, you rested your head against his shoulder, the blue hairs of his sweater scratching your skin.

“Thank you”

He let out a breathy laugh, wrapping one of his arms around your waist, “for what?”

“For keeping me sane”

“Nah, I just control your insanity and keep it at par with mine,” he patted your side, ring clinking against the metal on your belt, “you’re gonna be fine.” Seungkwan paused for a minute, tilting his head to the side as he considered his next thought.

“Besides, I’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t treat you well. Martial art, numchucks using member or not!”

Your head tilted backwards as you laughed, the vibrations of the boisterous sound shaking yours and Seungkwans sides. A knock on your apartment door caused the two of you to go silent. Your head quickly popped up from Seungkwans shoulder, wide eyes staring at his face. Before you could even bring to ramble, Seungkwan brought a finger up to your face, shushing you as he stood up to het get the door.

Okay this was it. “Stay calm, y/n. It’s just Minghao, he’s your best friend. You just happen to be going on a date with him.” You tried reassuring yourself.

“Hey, y/n. You look gorgeous. I-I mean you always look gorgeous, it’s just- I don’t know” Minghao’s nervous rambling eased your own.

Knowing that you weren’t the only one who had been totally freaking out calmed you down enough to fumble a response, “Thanks, Mings. You look handsome yourself!” The latter smiled, a faint shade of pink spreading on the apples of his cheeks.

Seungkwan coughed, interrupting the slightly awkward and yet really lovey-dovey atmosphere, “oookay. Well I’ll be here when you get back, go have fun!”

You laughed, nodding your head in agreement. You stood up from your seat, legs wobbling just a tad from how long you had been sitting (or maybe it was the anxiety). Giving your friend a quick hug, you then exited your apartment. Minghao followed suit, giving Seungkwan a light grin as he went out the door.

“Use protection! And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Minghao groaned, flicking off his cackling friend as he shut the door in his face, the sound of Seungkwan's remarks now masked by the wood. He turned to you, shaking his head at your amused face, “don’t even ask”

You snorted, “who said I was gonna ask?”

Minghao scoffed at that, walking to the elevator. Laughing at the complaints that effortlessly flowed off of his tongue, you trailed after the lanky man, entering the elevator as he pressed the button to the main floor.

Lucky for you, your apartment was on the 3rd floor, meaning the ride down was done in a matter of seconds.

The walk to the café was almost as quick as the elevator ride, the coffee shops sign in the distance was becoming more visible as you rounded your apartment buildings corner. Your hands were stuffed inside your jacket pockets, the soft insides warming your gloveless hands. You were sure to have gotten funny looks as you walked beside Minghao, who was dressed in a long black trench coat, as well as the beanie and scarf you had gifted him a few years back, considering you were wearing no winter protection whatsoever.

Or it was the fact he still looked breathtaking in layers of clothing, while you had a bright red nose and specs of blue on your cheeks and were currently shuffling as close as humanly possible against him for warmth.

You were relieved to see the café, your legs quickly speeding to get inside. The familiar, gentle giggle of the man behind you stood out against the traffic as he watched from behind, his own legs picking up pace to escape the cold with you.

The environment was much nicer in the building; snow was replaced by the smell of coffee beans, freezing weather blocked out by the fireplace that was roaring in the back of the room. There were hardly any customers, only a few couples or college students scattered around the shop, sipping their coffee and snacking on their pastries.

“You can sit down if you want, I can order for us?”

You agreed, taking Minghao’s things for him as you went to your guy’s normal area in the back. Before you both realized your feelings for one another, you had frequently visited this specific café together, even becoming good friends with Mrs. Choi who owned the small building. Every time you came, you always went for the back corner, it was farther away from other customers, as well as closer to the back room (Mrs. Choi loved to sneak the two of you free goodies).

You recognized the brown leather chairs that were placed near the fireplace, setting yours and Minghao’s things on the small coffee table that sat in between. You breathed a sigh of relief when you sat in the chair, body immediately sinking against the squishy material. You were here. On a date. With Minghao. Your best friend. It was happening, and you were excited? Nervous? You were anticipating this since you confessed last week, so now was not the time to chicken out!

The sound of footsteps to your right snapped you out of your thoughts, your eyes immediately peering behind the arm rest to meet the soft, honey ones of Minghao. The warm smile that was sprawled across his face as he looked at you made your insides melt, God you loved him.

Pause.

You what him?!

“I got you your favorite coffee,” he began, setting the cup onto the table in front of you, “as well as a strawberry cheesecake scone. I figured you’d wanna try that, I know how much you love cheesecake.” Minghao sat in his typical chair across from you, taking a sip of what you’re assuming is his caramel macchiato he gets every time. Of course he knew you loved cheesecake, he was attentive and sweet. It was only a matter of time you began to fall in love with your sweet, not to mention extremely cute, best friend

You could only thank him, offering a nervous smile as you quickly hid it by taking a drink of your coffee. Your cheeks were on fire, and your stomach was definitely a mess. You really did love him. And you begin to realize just how much as you sat there with him, the gorgeous smile that showed off his white teeth never leaving his face as you guys talked.

And as the night went on, the talking and flirtatious comments only increased. You were both so caught up in one another you hadn’t realized the Café had closed an hour ago, or the sneaky eyes of Mrs. Choi as she stood behind the counter, her heart feeling full at the sight of her two favorite customers finally getting together.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, then looked back at Minghao as he finished telling you about the time Mingyu and Seungkwan fought over a Twinkie.

“Holy shit-“ realization that it was 10 pm set in, you had been there for 4 hours.

Minghao quirked an eyebrow at your sudden outburst, “holy shit what?”

You pointed to the time, his eyes following the point of your finger. Minghao’s eyes widened, mouth forming an O.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck, Seungkwan is going to kill me!”

Minghao quickly gathered your trash, throwing it into the trashbin behind him as you tossed him his things. The two of you sped out of the shop, hollering a goodnight to the laughing Mrs. Choi, “oh lovebirds”

“We know what time it is, Seungkwan, calm down”

Seungkwan quieted, pursing his lips as he glared at the two of you, “Minghao, need I remind you, I can 100% kick your ass with the help of our muscly leader? We both know he’s protective of our sweet y/n”

Minghao grumbled a no, looking down at his brown shoes. Seungkwan stood there, hands on his hips as he stared at you both, your heads sullen and shoulders sagged. Letting out a dramatic sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “alright, I’ll let you off the hook because I know how much this date meant to you both-“

You could feel the weight being lifted off your shoulders, “thank God”

Hushing you, Seungkwan spoke a little louder this time, “but if any of the members ask what time you got home, what do we say?”

A quiet mumble came from the couch, “8”

Seungkwan cupped his ear, turning his head to the side facing you both, “I’m sorry, what was that? Did you say The8?”

“8”

Seungkwan nodded his head, happy with the answer.

In a flash, Minghao had given you a quick peck on the lips before dancing off, a string of giggles filling the apartment as he ran out the door, an annoyed Seungkwan chasing him. You were stunned as you fell back against the couch, fingers lightly tracing your bottom lip.

Seungkwan muttered a few words before closing the door, walking back to lean against the archway, watching as you kicked your legs on the couch in excitement.

He smiled, a quiet scoff parting past his lips.

He’d never tell you that the only reason he let the two of you off the hook, was because he saw your entwined hands that you tried to hide underneath the blanket behind your backs.

[cloudsnbones]

Ok so quick note, thanks to @wonderofasunrise whose blog I found these prompts on and thus which proceeded to steal. this is no. 11. :)

Excuse for being lazy: also yes this is only meant to be short so like sorry for not expanding on things at all. Perhaps I shall make up for that next time ;)

This is set in s8 around wintery times.

Please enjoy :3

“I thought I would be okay with just being friends but… All I can think of when I’m around you is how badly I want to kiss you and how I can’t do that anymore.”

Kerry lay quietly, her cheek resting on Susan’s chest, her eyes shut in a warm, pensive bliss – two souls in harmony.

Their illicit affair had begun as a matter of surprise to them both; after a night of heavy drinking and deep confessions they awoke the next morning sharing a bed, and what had started as a one-night stand became a regular thing after replicating the original night twice over.

Not only had their sexual relationship grown in a way that neither could have imagined, but an understanding, a friendship had also developed which had allowed themselves to trust wholeheartedly and without the fear of judgment for the first time in a very long time.

Kerry had indeed gotten accustomed to arriving home and finding Susan outside waiting for her, she had started to prepare dinners big enough for two in anticipation of an inevitable phone call asking to spend the night. Everything was falling into place. Therefore, it could never have lasted.

“I think we should end it.”

Whatever ‘it’ was. The nebulous nature of their relationship was growing all too much for Kerry, because, to tell the truth, she had fallen.

She didn’t think that there had ever been a time when she wasn’t in love with Susan Lewis, but to have been finally exposed in full to that euphoria, to live out her long-term dream, one she’d barely registered before now, was bittersweet…when she knew that Susan would never, could never requite what she felt inside.

Susan was surprised at the statement. She had never really thought about ending it, actually ending it. To be honest, since this whole thing started, she hadn’t really thought about anything at all. She knew that they were never going to be a “they”, Kerry Weaver and Susan Lewis: ER Power Couple, but she couldn’t help feel a little, disappointed at the idea of losing her? Although, she wasn’t really going to be lost, just not there in the same way. It just seemed really random, why now? Had she been planning this for a while? It was going well, she had thought, but knowing Kerry perhaps to her this wasn’t right. Anyway, best to end things whilst they’re good right? She clung to that thought in the hope that it might fill the suspicious hole she felt deep down in her chest.

The two promised to stay friends, it’s always nice to have an ally. And Susan was just fine with that, one-hundred-percent completely fine.

“23-year-old male, multiple head lacs, altered, LOC, vitals stable, BP 120/80,” announced the new EMT Danielle as she tried to shake her overgrown fringe out of her eyes.

It was just then as Susan and Kerry approached to take the trauma that the man in question lent over and wretched blood all over Danielle’s jacket causing Kerry and Susan to jump back a little before grabbing the sides of the gurney so that she could sort herself out. The man started to lose consciousness again as they raced to get him inside.

Danielle shed her jacket leaving it on the tarmac of the ambulance bay revealing a white vest and tattoo sleeves before she continued her debrief whilst following the pair to the trauma room, “Received 50 of Lidocaine at the scene, complains of dizziness and neck pain,” she continued.

As they entered the trauma room Susan finally took a look at the woman speaking and what said woman was wearing, “Nice top,” she said her eyes lingering a little bit too long.

“Thanks,” replied Danielle looking down at herself briefly before smiling to show her gratitude.

“LIFT ON 1, 2, 3!” Kerry ordered loudly cutting their little interaction short.

And as Susan lent over to start working on the man she felt Danielle put something small into her pocket whispering, “I’ll see you later.”

She stared as the woman left the trauma room only to look back around to see Kerry watching her icily.

After the man was stabilised, Kerry and Susan left the trauma room ripping their gloves and their aprons off as they did so before tossing them into the trash.

They both started in the same direction, practically colliding, Kerry extending an arm to institute a satisfactory, colleague-appropriate space between them.

“Tough trauma.”

“Yeah, I s’pose…Hey, did I tell you that Susie went to see that film they’ve all been talking about, Shrek(?) the other day, oh my god I have not heard her be so excited about something in months, and the way she talked about the donkey in it you would think that the two were going out, but alas no. Apparently, he is indeed taken by a dragon as is so often the case with actually desirable men,” she ranted enthusiastically putting on a heightened English accent to emphasise the slander.

Kerry listened quietly as she felt Susan’s words dig into her further and further, she should be happier for her, she knew that, but everything was closing in on her and she didn’t like it.

They entered the Doctor’s Lounge and as soon as the door shut behind them and it was clear to Kerry that no one else was in there, she started, “Listen, I don’t wanna make a big deal outta it but I just wanted to let you know that it’s considered a little inappropriate to get distracted by pretty EMTs when working a trauma at least from a management perspective, now as it’s never happened before obviously it’s not a problem but just so you know for any future interactions that they should be left till after you’ve finished working on the patient.”

Susan’s smile failed immediately at the mini reprimand. “Kerry it was nothing I promise.”

“Uhuh – well even if that is the case it’s still inappropriate,” Kerry said pointing her nose in the air.

Kerry’s stiffness on the subject angered Susan who huffed before retorting, “And even if it WAS something I don’t think that’s any of your business, you know Kerry Weaver, not everything is about you I realise, ok, that you’re the only person in YOUR world but that’s not the same for the rest of us,” as she raised her voice, she stepped closer and closer to Kerry refusing to break eye contact for a second.

Kerry was frozen in place, her lip quivering slightly and her eyes conveying only a hint of pain and fear behind their broken shields.

They were practically toe-to-toe, and their proximity almost immediately caused Susan to calm down as if her body was anticipating Kerry’s touch, Kerry’s smell, Kerry’s warmth.

The electricity burning Kerry’s skin as her beloved towered over her, not knowing, never knowing, what those words meant to her. Why although dealing with hurtful comments was part of the job, was always part of the job, they felt different coming from her.

But as cupid’s taunting strings gradually lured them together, the door burst open loudly causing the women to practically jump out of their skin in order to create distance between them.

It was Chuny; “Doctor Weaver there’s a guy wandering around the admit desk I think he’s your patient, Mr. Reid?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute Chuny,” Kerry replied a little too shrilly, her eyes still fixed on Susan. She stayed there for a few more seconds before finally awakening in herself the willpower to sort out the wanderer.

As the last sounds of her crutch hitting the floor faded away into the dissonant noise of the ER Chuny joked, “Did you just have it from Weaver, I bet you didn’t miss those in Phoenix!” before closing the door and leaving.

But ‘missing Weaver’ was really the only thing Susan was able to do at that moment, she turned towards the window to wipe away a tear. Then, she shook herself from head to toe, set her face back to neutrality and spun around so she could go back to work.

Kerry stood alone, her arms restless as if they were missing something, or someone, her kitchen echoing with emptiness. As she stared half-heartedly at the risotto she was making she heard a buzz followed by three rapid knocks. Kerry pulled herself out of her reverie, grabbed her crutch and headed over to the front door.

Upon opening, she saw Susan shivering in a short tan trench coat, her arms wrapped around herself, her right foot tapping the ground beneath her. When she heard the click of the latch she lifted her head and the expression Kerry saw sent a shiver through her, Susan’s eyes were wide and deep inside them there seemed to be some sort of lingering discomfort.

“Hey,” she said shyly before pulling the door to and stepping out into the cold winter’s night also, “What are you doing here?”

“Um…I’m not sure to be honest,” was the esteemed reply.

“Aren’t you cold? Do you want t-”

“Kerry there’s something I have to say and if I don’t say it now, I don’t think I ever will so.”

“Uh…ok, um, go right ahead.”

“I’m so tired, of all this of going to back to the old normal, whatever the hell that was, you know I-” she broke off, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions started to get the better of her, “I thought I would be okay with just being friends but…All I can think of when I’m around you is how badly I want to kiss you and how I can’t do that anymore. And even when you’re mad and being a bitch, I just want to hold you because then I know everything’ll be all right.” And on those final words she broke down, it could have been the cold, it could have been the pressures of moving back to a town where no one really remembered her, but in that moment, it didn’t matter what the exact cause was because her Susan was upset and it yanked at her heartstrings.

The women stood there silently, Susan looking at the floor and Kerry looking at Susan, frozen in light of the revelation, trying to calculate what best to do. When Kerry still didn’t say anything, Susan raised her head once more to look at her and being met only with an unreadable, blank expression, she felt she could take a hint.

Not wanting to stand in the scene of her rejection any longer Susan said, “Goodnight,” in a dejected, barely audible voice before turning around and heading down the steps leading up to the house. And it was this that triggered Kerry’s ability to move once more.

“Wait!” she called out, as she reached her hand out for the banister and tried to rush down the stairs, but her hurriedness and the light frost worked against her and as Susan turned around Kerry practically tumbled into her arms.

And at this intimacy, there was only one thing left for them really, because love doesn’t require logical thinking, sometimes all it needs is an impulse.

Kerry pulled herself up muttering a word of thanks before running her hand through Susan’s hair and slowly, softly bringing her down for a kiss.

And as a thousand fireworks went off in their minds, they simultaneously knew that “they” would last forever.

[nightingalefeminist]

Dean’s confession

Dean can’t stop smiling but he looks earnestly at Cas and asks “how did you manage to escape anyway?”

“How do you think I got out?”

Dean scoffs but he can feel the stubborn, shit-eating grin still there. “You annoyed a cosmic entity until they threw you out.”

Cas’s smile falters and he looks down at the floor. “I wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

Sam suddenly straightens up and runs his hands through his hair. Dean’s smile has fallen and when he looks at Sam there must be something desperate on his face because Sam immediately turns to leave, saying something about checking on the structure of the bunker after it was used as the arena to defeat God himself.

Cas is still looking down, studying his hands now, shoulders always hunched a little forward. Dean’s heart is up in his ears, the sound of blood is the only thing more deafening than the silence. This moment has pulled that one to the present, blending them together across everything that happened between then and now like bleeding watercolors. An opportunity to set the moment right, to finish it.

But he still can’t speak. Can barely move. Was it possible for such a being to love him? Truly love him? There was no one else who knew Dean like Cas did. Not even Sammy understood him so well. How was it possible?

Finally Cas looks up and shifts to his other foot. There’s an embarrassed look on his face. No.

“Dean, about what I said earlier-” no. He’s going to apologize. He’s going to take it back because he doesn’t know... what doesn’t he know? “I know it wasn’t fair of me-”

“Stop.” The word is strangled and soft but Cas halts mid-word and is suddenly as still as Dean has ever seen him. And he’s looking at him dead in the eyes. Good. Cas should never feel like he has to cast his eyes downward.

Dean let’s himself have a few deep breathes. Seconds go by in utter, awkward since. Then, a word,“don’t,” more silence, then another “don’t apologize. Cas-” there’s so much heat in Dean’s body that he almost shifts to take his jacket off.

But Cas is patient. And he’s still watching every move of Dean’s soul. The exposure is terrifying and his mind is screaming that he’s in danger. Run! Fight! Hide!

“You’ve said just as much before...” his mind still refuses to relive that moment, “before then. I just wasn’t really paying attention. I just couldn’t believe it-” but he stops because this is just an excuse to make himself feel better. It was self-pitying bullshit and Dean was done with it.

“You’re worthy of being loved Cas. You’re worthy of a family, you belong with us, no matter what.”

Cas opens his mouth to speak but Dean puts a hand up and takes a step forward. “It’s not your fault that you felt that way, we’ve treated you so damn bad Cas.” There’s a pressure now in his throat, like an eight ball from a lost game lodged itself there to shut him up. He swallows and takes another step forward. If he reached out he could almost run his hand along the edge of Cas’s trench coat. His fingertips start to tingle.

What doesn’t he know? He needs to know it, he needs to hear it, but what in the hell was it?

“We go on and on about family but then we doubt and lie and stay so distanced from each other. How many times have we said that family is the only thing that matters huh? And then we abandon then, kick them out, mistrust them, underestimate them-” he’s talking so fast now because if he stops he’ll never start again. “Hell we even raise our weapons against them. We get them killed. Cas!” He takes another step and the proximity, the color of Cas’s eyes, the tears forming on the angel’s lashes, it cracks the eight ball still sitting in his throat and then he’s crying and the tears are so hot they burn. “Cas, I killed you. With silence. With harsh words. With my actions. I’ve killed you in more ways than I’ve killed myself.”

He needs to know... he needs to know that you... you-

“How long? Tell me how long.” Dean’s voice is thready, like at any moment it will leave him forever. But his heart has slowed a little because this, this he can answer back to without hesitation.

Cas takes in a breath that hitches, “Anna.”

The word rips through his skin and the pain makes him nauseous. Too long. Cas has been in this kind of pain for far too long. All those years go through Dean’s mind so hard and fast that his head starts to buzz like he might puke and then pass out.

But this, this he can say out loud. A start, at least, to telling Cas what he needs to hear. What he should’ve heard since-

“Purgatory.”

Cas blinks at him and his head tilts a little to the side. The gesture almost sends Dean to his knees. “What?”

“I should’ve told you in purgatory. My actions weren’t enough. Looking for you, not leaving without you, it wasn’t enough I should’ve just-”

Cas’s eyes were so big and his realization was too huge, gliding over his face like the warmest light, and him turning his face toward it like he’d never felt the sun on his skin before. It’s too large. Run.

“You don’t have to-” no. He was done with the self-pitying bullshit. He would never match Cas’s bravery but he would never again be such a coward.

“I love you.”

Whatever self-defeating words were forming in Cas’s mouth dropped and Dean could swear they made a dying noise in the consuming hush that followed his words.

What rushes in isn’t relief or calm or even the absence of fear. What’s flooding Dean’s veins isn’t a cool lapping at the shore but white, furious water coursing down through all the scarred rocks that will always be there. He couldn’t change that. He didn’t want to. And the urge to run, to fight, to hide from the threat of vulnerability is finally gone. Silent as the grave.

Dean looks at Cas now. He never looked away but now he’s actually in his body, in the moment, and the Angel before him is fully there. This entity that loves him. Loved him? Was he too late?

“You’ve... loved me. Since purgatory?”

The shame of his cowardice flares and he almost looks away. But the survival impulses don’t even twitch. He’ll never fight or run or hide from these feelings ever again.

“Yes,” is the only thing Dean says. His hands are the only thing that move, clenching and unclenching at his sides. He’s never wanted to touch somebody so much in his entire life.

Then Cas smiles. And fuck if it doesn’t hold every single thing Dean wants and needs. He needs him. And instead of just thinking it Dean says it, all of it, again and again like he’ll never shut the hell up about it. “I need you cas, I need you. I need you. I love you. I love you and I need you. Always-” and then Cas’s hand comes up and Dean is already moving, the gap between them suddenly gone like it was never there to begin with.

And it’s Dean who’s hands are gripping Cas’s hips and Cas’s hands making fists in Deans hair but their mouths make the barest of impressions against each other, butterflies trying to land on blades of grass in a storm. The contrast between their desperate hands and their careful lips is making it hard to breathe. Dean moves back just enough to pull in air. They’re panting against each other’s mouths, hands still kneading, bodies still grinding against the other.

“I love you Dean.” His breath gliding across Dean’s lip wrentches a sob up from his trashed, abandoned soul.

“I love you Cas. I love you.”

[theshipsfirstmate]

ODAAT Fic: Feel I’m on the Verge of Some Great Truth

Some missing bits from 3x12 -- Penelope deals with Schneider’s relapse, and the aftermath.

A/N: My first Alvareider fic! Holy moly, these two brought the feels almost as soon as I started watching -- which was tragically right before Netflix dropped the axe. I’m still holding out hope for a season 4 pickup, because I need more of the Alvarez fam in general and these two in particular. In the meantime, here, have some of whatever this is. 

Title from “Wait” by Alexi Murdoch.

Feel I’m on the Verge of Some Great Truth (AO3 - wc: 3201)

“You don’t have to do that alone.”

She says those words to him, fingers combing through the soft hair at the back of his neck, and for a moment, she forgets who they are to each other. She watches his eyes close in anguish, and she remembers, not for the first time, that she’s done this before.

It was Alex who first brought it up, after Penelope found them sitting next to each other on the laundry room floor. Four sad eyes stared up at her, two rimmed red with liquor and remorse.

“Pen, shit, I’m sorry,” Schneider had mumbled as Alex stood and the two of them helped him to his feet. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt him…”

She had stopped cold at that half-confession, able for a moment to see only bright red in front of her eyes.

“Mami, it’s fine.” Her son's voice cut through the instinctive response and he gave her a pointed look and a nod from the other side of Schneider’s chest, like he knew exactly where her mind had gone. His tone was almost bossy -- if she could have felt anything through the panic, it might have been annoyance -- but he was calm and he didn’t look hurt, only worried. “I’m okay, it was nothing. Let’s just get him upstairs.”

They didn’t say it out loud -- not that she could hear much over the ringing in her ears -- but Penelope’s pretty sure neither of them even considered taking Schneider to his own apartment. Still, he was nearly dead weight, and once they had maneuvered him inside their doorway, they only got as far as Mami’s room before they had to set him down on the pull-out couch.

“If you throw up in here…” Penelope started to warn, but Schneider groaned an interruption before she could think of a suitable punishment.

“I’ll buy you a whole new living room set,” he promised, though he still looked a little green for her liking.

She hustled back to her room then, passing Elena who was sitting at the kitchen table, homework abandoned, eyes wide like they used to go when Victor would wake them up as he crashed around the living room after a long night.

“Elena, come help me in the kitchen.” Penelope heard her Mami call for her daughter as she rounded the hallway, and she put a note on her mental list to say a prayer of thanks later that night for the viejita and her quick thinking. There were only so many things she could worry about at once. “Vámonos, mija.”

In her room, she knew exactly where to look -- the third dresser drawer down, where a pair of Schneider's sweats and a soft, grey henley were neatly folded next to her own pajamas. They had gotten mixed in with her laundry one day, months ago now, and she kept meaning to give them back. But she hadn’t -- a curiosity there just wasn’t any time for tonight. Stepping back into the hallway to chuck them in Schneider’s direction, Penelope wondered, in a brief moment of panic as she closed the curtain behind her, if things would ever be the same again.

It's the second time in two years that she's missed the signs completely, and the memories of another soured night in her Mami’s room didn’t do anything to help ease her anxiety. So she tried to do it herself, taking a few deep breaths before stepping through Alex’s open door, where her son sat at the foot of his bed, considering the stain on his shirt with a quiet pensiveness that made her heart ache.

“Papito? Can I come in?”

“Wow, this must be serious,” her boy answered, with a wry smile that didn’t meet his eyes, and Penelope took a split-second to hate that he’d mastered the art of deflection at such a young age. “You never bother to ask.”

“That's right, ‘cause I pay the rent, so technically it’s my room,” she joked back, despite the fresh tears stinging at the back of her throat. “I just want to make sure you’re really okay.”

“I mean, I'm worried about Schneider,” he admitted, sounding every bit the man she wasn’t ready for him to be just yet, and she immediately folded herself next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“But I'm fine.” Alex indulged the hug for longer than she expected, and Penelope couldn’t help but press her forehead to his neck, bemoaning the fact that he was already too big for her to cradle properly. “It really was nothing, he just shoved me a little when I went to call you.”

“That’s not exactly nothing.” The room went a little crimson again and suddenly she was back on her feet, hands flexing into fists. “We’re gonna talk more once we get him settled, okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded and she moved to make her way back to the mess waiting for her in the living room, but stopped short, bracing a hand on the doorframe when she heard his voice go small and soft. “But, Mami?”

Alex was looking at the ground, fidgeting his feet when she turned back, and Penelope’s lower lip pressed almost painfully against the top to keep a sob from slipping out. “I know you have to do your thing, or whatever, talk to him, but don’t be too hard on him, okay? He’s not Papi.”

She tried not to gasp aloud, but the question came out breathy all the same. “Baby, what do you mean?”

He sighed. “I know you think I was too little, but I remember how Papi used to get.” Her tears started coming then, there wasn’t any sense in trying to swipe at them before they could fall. “But Schneider, it wasn’t like that. He wasn’t angry, I think he was just scared. And sad. He didn’t mean to--”

“But he did,” she interrupted. “That’s an addict thing. And that’s something that he, and I, are gonna have to deal with.”

Alex nodded, but she could tell there was more on his mind. “He really doesn’t want you to hate him,” he explained, and there were about a hundred threads to pull on in that admission, and the soft, uncertain way he let her in on it. “Just don’t--”

His attempted warning, however, was cut off by the sound of the curtain sliding open from the other room, and they both paused, putting the moment on hold for the time being -- though Penelope still felt the adrenaline bumping her heart at an unnatural rhythm as she turned to face whatever was coming next.

“You did the right thing by calling us,” she assured her son softly, as Elena and Mami made their way out of the kitchen, supplies in hand -- “That's what our family does, right?” -- and the small smile Alex gave in return eased her nerves just enough to carry on.

Schneider sobers up quicker than she expects, given what was left in the bottle she tossed in the laundry room trash can, and after his heartfelt thanks -- and a stuttered apology to Alex that makes her swallow hard -- Penelope clears the rest of the family out of the apartment with almost too much ease. Then, it’s just the two of them.

At first, she’s ready to fight. It’s not a foreign instinct, or even a surprising one. Hypervigilance, Pam sometimes calls it, a product of her PTS -- both from the military and life with an abusive alcoholic. Another look into Schneider’s eyes, though, and as the tears well again in her own, she realizes that this is a different kind of battle.

They’ve all spoken different languages, the men in her life. Max is a healer, like her, Mateo a solver. Victor is a warrior, though and through. Even now, with his manicured beard and fancy second wife, she can still see the fire and fight in her ex’s eyes. He’s a soldier, and their life together was a war. Even when they were both back stateside, she never stopped feeling like she was in the trenches.

Schneider, though, he’s a refuge. He’s the door she knocks on when the family is driving her crazy, or she can’t sleep, or it’s three in the morning and she doesn’t have it in her to go another round with the demons that have their own curtain-enclosed living space in her brain. He’s where she looks when she needs strength that feels like it’ll never come, and when she has questions that feel impossible to answer. And now she needs to be those things for him. She has to. Because he’s hurting. Because Alex asked her to. And because...

Penelope’s not entirely sure where that sentence ends. Or maybe she is. Her world’s been upside down since her mother pulled a near-empty bottle of whiskey out of an obnoxiously personalized yoga mat. She doesn’t feel like she’s taken a real breath since the moment she turned to see Schneider finally coming clean, sure that her broken heart was written all over her face, but unable -- and maybe unwilling -- to hide it.

And tonight, the anger goes out of her almost as quickly, replaced by something darker and gnawing -- something she hasn't had the courage to look too closely at until now.

When she learned of Victor’s relapse, that night in her mother’s bed, she hadn’t wasted any time kicking him out. She needed him gone, as quickly as possible, needed to spare herself and her kids and the fragile idea of a family she was just barely holding together with the strength of her own hands and her Mami’s prayers.

She needed to minimize damage. Call it military instinct. Unbidden, the acronym paints itself in neon on the backs of her eyelids: FUBAR.

But Alex is right, this isn’t the same as it ever was with her ex. She doesn’t want to kick Schneider out, and her gut is telling her that she doesn’t need to. If anything, she's preparing to hold on tighter. She wants to keep him in her sights, feels, in the deepest part of her, a compulsion to keep him safe.

It only gets stronger when he admits to her the actual moment when he gave in and had his first drink in eight years. Penelope can see so clearly in her memory the way Schneider’s face had dropped that day when she told him that he was his father’s son. She remembers how he had looked like a stranger in his suit and slicked-back hair, remembers the way he said her name as she kicked him out of her apartment.

“I had one drink, and I actually managed to stand up to him,” he confesses. Then she remembers something else.

“Family’s everything.” Those words, the way she could see Schneider’s devotion to her and the people she loves through his thick-rimmed glasses and teary eyes, had been one of the most profound moments in her life so far. It had made her feel something she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to access again -- a stutter step in her heart she’d thought was lost to someone younger and more naive -- and the way it's tainted now, with the realization that he was under the influence, burns like a betrayal.

This night, this conversation, his relapse, these things aren’t about her, but it's like they were designed to make her confront the feelings she’s been stuffing down only semi-successfully over the last few months, ever since she split from Max. (Maybe even before then, if she’s honest.) She hasn’t been ready to admit to herself that she feels something when Schneider wraps her up in his arms -- which happens more often than it probably should if they’re sticking to the whole “just friends” mantra. She feels something when their eyes linger on each other across the room. It’s foreign and familiar at the same time, comforting and terrifying in equal measure. 

She feels safe with him, even when her anxiety has her pinned to the mat -- even when it screams that that kind of safety, especially when found in another person, could be the most dangerous of all.

And tonight isn’t the first time Penelope has learned that lesson. She's done this before, looking into someone’s eyes and pleading with the only person who can save them. But still, it doesn’t feel the same.

Was it harder then, because she knew how she loved Victor? Or is it harder now, because the way she loves Schneider has become increasingly more complicated?

“You’re never gonna trust me again.”

He says it, and her first thought is relief, so strong she almost sighs it out audibly. For once, she doesn’t have to be the one to speak it out loud. For once, she doesn’t have to dole out threats and warnings like grenades, wincing when she looks back to see if they’ve hit their mark. He put his hands on her son, and he knows as well as she does that she's cut people out of her life for far less.

You’re never gonna trust me again. Her second thought is, that he's wrong. Somehow, he's wrong. She trusts him still  -- and maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe it will be a mistake. Schneider the Addict is basically a stranger to her, and she knows enough about dependency to understand how situations like these can go from Jekyll to Hyde in the time it takes to blink.

But he’s standing here in front of her, talking about taking her son to his baseball games like it’s the most precious thing she could possibly take away from him, and the truth of the matter is that Penelope can't imagine a world where she doesn't trust him.

He's family, he has been for so long that she didn't even realize it was happening. They're his and he's theirs, and she didn't need to see his eight-year chip on the wall next to her daughter's report card to know how he belongs.

“You’re the only one who’s ever trusted me, Pen. All that goes away now.” They’re similar words, but they don’t feel the same the second time. There's no relief in his resignation, no solace in the way he looks at her like he's drowning, and she's the only lifeguard left on the beach.

She realizes that she’s been silent for a long time then, longer than she ever imagined herself being in a conversation like this one. Her throat aches with unshed tears and plenty more are falling to brush salt across her pursed lips. But it's time to speak now. It's time to make sure he knows.

“It doesn’t go away,” she tells him, and when her voice goes shaky, it occurs to her how much she truly means it. It’d be like missing a limb, life without Schneider. He fills a missing piece for them, and not a just a crack in the drywall or a spot at the dinner table.

“I’m not giving up on you. None of us are.”

Penelope watches as he turns that over in his brain, watches years of conditioning kick in and try to convince him that it's a lie. She saw his father walk out on him with ease, just weeks ago, knows that Avery did the same not long after. Someone needs to fight for him this time. Her hands are already clenching to fists.

They're seated on the couch now, and it's like the willpower has drained out of him. She knows she needs to move them towards the next step -- needs to get him to a meeting -- and so she plays her trump card.

“You want to be a good role model for the kids, right?”

She tried never to use Elena and Alex as bargaining chips when it came to Victor’s sobriety. It wasn’t fair, she had repeated to herself, and besides, it never had the intended result. A mention of their family was like pouring gasoline on a fire, it only made him rage about ultimatums and equity and the things that were his.

But this too, is different with Schneider. His eyes close, almost peacefully, on a sigh, and something in her chest sparks anew at the fact that, out of everything, this is what will push him to try again. Her kids. Their family. “This is your chance.”

In the last hour alone, she's seen her daughter tell this man that she loves him -- anyone who didn't know Elena well would have thought those words came easy for her -- and watched her Mami hand over sopa de pollo like she knows something Penelope doesn’t. Alex forgave him without a thought, and while she knows there will be more to unpack between them, there isn't a bone in her body that doesn’t believe the two of them will come out the other side even stronger.

But still, all Schneider seems to have are doubts. So she quotes his own words back to himself -- “Don’t quit before the miracle happens” --  and watches him smile for the first time in what feels like far too long.  Penelope’s always fancied herself too practical for miracles, but maybe there's a time and place for everything.

This is his time. They can be his place.

“You don’t have to do that alone.”

He finally looks back at her then, and she realizes she's been waiting for it, longing to meet his eyes again and see the spark of the man she knows so well underneath all that hurt and embarrassment.

She's struck suddenly, with the urge to press her lips to his cheek or his forehead, remembers him waxing poetic once about nontraditional kisses. It would be too much tonight, she tells herself, with everything so close to the surface. So she suppresses the urge without looking too closely at where it came from, and settles instead for drawing his head to rest on her shoulder -- a mirror image of the way he’s comforted her so many times before. They exhale a heavy breath at the same time, and for some reason it's then that's she's certain they’re going to be okay.

Later, they'll return to this same spot -- a new chip in his pocket, his first name on the tip of her tongue. He'll apologize again, and she'll shake her head and offer to let him sleep on the couch so he doesn't have to face day two alone. He’ll nod in grateful acceptance and smile in a way that makes her forget her earlier conviction and drop a kiss to his hairline that lingers on her lips as she heads to bed.

Maybe there’s a miracle coming, after all.

[olboypacman]

1. Out on Bail (A Cry for Justice)

The air of the interrogation room is stale and cold.

The electric hum of the flickering light bulb suspended above is the only noise in the room.

Frank Castle rubs his wrists which have just been freed from a pair of hand cuffs.

Across from him, Detective Harvey Bullock removes his overcoat and hat, revealing his short sleeved yellow dress shirt. Harvey takes a seat. He runs his hand through his hand through his hair, surprised at the suspect sitting across from him. Never in a million years did the detective think he’d be sitting across from Frank Castle in an interrogation room, waiting to get a confession signed. “Jeez, Frank. I don’t know what to say. Can I get you something, a coffee, cigarette?”

“Harv.” Responds Castle, harshly.

“Excuse me,” responded the detective, “trying to be a gracious host.”

Frank folds his arms across his chest at the detective’s poor attempt at humor. His steel blue boring into Harvey, coldly.

Harvey clears his throat awkwardly, trying to fill the silence.

Another officer comes through the door, with paperwork in his hands and hands it off to the detective.

“Just in time, I guess. Here, the confession Frank,” said Detective Bullock, handing the stapled bunch of paper to Frank. Harvey produces a pen, and says, “Read it over and sign where directed.”

“Easy case, huh Harvey?” Said Castle, as he eyeballed each page and signed.

“Yeah, miffed I missed out on the potential overtime,” said Harvey, sarcastically. He takes a more serious expression, sighs as he collects the signed confession and says, “What waste of good police. But at least we have one less knob to worry about in this goddamned town. I can sleep a little more soundly knowing that. Come on, I’ll take you back to the cells.” Finished Harvey, gesturing to the door.

Taking the hint, Frank raises from his seat, and places his hand in front him, waiting for the detective to cuff him.

“Come on, Frankie. All things considered, I’m not cuffin’ ya. Come on, let’s go. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

48 Hours Later, Arraignment of Frank Castle

“Next case is The People of the State of New Jersey vs. Frank Castle. The charge is murder in the first degree. Do you understand the charge Office-“ the judge stops recognizing his mistake, “sorry, Mr. Castle?”

“Yes, your honor.” Responds Frank.

“I see you’ve have opted out of a plea deal. Do you understand if convicted you’ll be facing a penalty of 30 years to life in prison, Mr. Castle?”

“Yes, you honor.”

“And I see Mr. Castle has waived his right to an attorney.” Says thee judge, rustling though more paperwork. “Are the people seeking the maximum penalty?”

“Your honor,” says a prosecutor, “the people are seeking the maximum sentence of life in prison without the possibility of parole. The people also recommend that Mr. Castle be held without bail in Blackgate Penitentiary until the date of his trial.”

“Really councilor?” Says the judge, incredulously. “Get a hold of yourself. A police officer, a clean one at that, one of the best on the force to be quite honest, in a maximum-security prison filled with criminals and villains he may have had a hand in putting away. Do you want Mr. Castle to make it to trial?”

“The people of New Jersey would like to remind the court that Mr. Castle in accused of first-degree murder. He shot and killed an a restrained unarmed-“

“The Joker,” interrupted the judge, “Mr. Castle is accused of murdering The Joker, councilor.”

“Murder is murder, your honor. No one person is more special than the next in eyes of the law, and the people would like state that Mr. Castle assaulted several of his fellow detainees in central book-“

“That’s my point exactly, councilor. And did you read that incident report? Mr. Castle was detained in his police uniform and was assaulted first by his fellow detainees. What chance would he stand in surviving one week in Blackgate? In light of his military and police record, I’m recommending Mr. Castle be held on a bond of $500,000 and be held at the county detention center for his own safety if bail cannot be paid. Does that satisfy the people of New Jersey?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Excellent. Mr. Castle will have his day in court, but that won’t be today.” The judge bangs his gavel, dismissing this particular case and bringing up the next.

Court is awash with noises of shuffling papers and footsteps of lawyers, defendants and court officers shuffling about.

In the back of the court sits a couple.

One is a tall, shapely young woman with long flowing black hair, tan-orange skin and eyes shaded a deep, almost black, purple. She’s dressed in an unzipped black leather jacket with a white stripe running down the arms of it and a plain white t-shirt underneath that’s been tucked into black leather pants and her look is completed with black leather boots. “Half-a-million, Jay. Think you can swing it?” She asks sarcastically, with a teasing smile.

Her companion is a well-built young man, with blue eyes, black hair with a streak of white. He’s dressed in an all-black leather biker’s jumpsuit, with black leather gloves, boots and with a brown leather trench coat. He cracks a smile of his own at his partner’s teasing and says, “Of course. You know, you’re lucky you’re cute. I don’t let many people trash-talk me.”

“Luckily, I’m not ‘many people’. So how do you want to play it? You’re not seriously going to pay this man’s bail, are you?”

“The man did the Joker, Komi,” he said, sucking his teeth, “can’t exactly shake his hand when he’s in police custody.”

“You can always get arrested and be in jail with the guy.” Said the black-haired woman, shrugging her shoulders, “There’s about a hundred cases of breaking and entering and petty theft you can confess to.”

“Not even as a joke, Komi. Besides, the money comes back to me if Castle shows up, and Castle doesn’t look like type to jump bail. He’s as honest as they come in this town.”

****

“Looks like you just won the lottery, Castle.”

Frank Castle was in a lone cell in the court’s jailhouse, awaiting transfer to the county’s detention center.

“How’s that McNulty?” Asks Frank.

“Some leggy, dark-haired girl just posted bail.” Responded McNulty, opening the cell. “Ready for processing?”

Frank hums noncommittally in response as he follows Officer McNulty to the administrative wing of the jailhouse.

After he’s processed, there’s a woman waiting for him on the courthouse landing.

Leggy doesn’t even being to describe her.

“So, you’re my benefactor?”

She eyeballs the former officer, her purple eyes scrutinizing him intently. “Hmph. Not exactly Frank,” she drones. “More of a really good acquaintance of your benefactor.”

“’Acquaintance?�� Really Komi? Do acquaintances sleep with each other?” Says a man joining the two.

“Really good acquaintances.” Drones the woman.

Frank eyeballs the two. The woman looks like someone he’s seen before. He can’t help but think she resembles some hero or villain he’s seen before. Her skin is especially striking, jogging his memory. And the young man looks like he’d fit right in with the socialite crowd. He’d blend perfectly with Bruce Wayne and his never-ending cavalcade of dark-haired sons. He decides it not important at the moment.

“So, what’s this about?” Asks Frank.

“Nothing important.” Responds the young man. “I just really wanted shake the hand of the man who killed The Joker,” finished the young man, extending his hand.

Frank reluctantly takes the younger man’s hand. “A half million on a handshake,” said Frank, skeptically. “ If you’re looking for some kind of return, I doubt you’ll get it. There’s no way I’m beating this charge.”

“Nah,” said the young man, waiving his hand dismissively, “it’s just like I said. It’s a good thing you did, doing that piece of shit. I read up on you Mr. Castle. I’m sorry your family went out like they did. Know that your family isn’t the only one he’s victimized in his day. He’s been a thorn in my family’s side for years, and because of him one of my best friends was paralyzed. It needed doing, Mr. Castle.” Finished the young man, breaking the handshake.

“So, what do I call you two?” Said Castle.

“That’s Komi, I guess you can call me X.” Said the young man with a smile. “See you at the trial, Frank.”

****

Read this and more @https://www.fanfiction.net/~olboypacman

[my-lazy-genius]

The Word Of Your Body

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Characters: APH Spain (Antonio Fernández Carriedo), APH England (Arthur Kirkland), APH France (Francis Bonnefoy). Mentions of: APH Prussia (Gilbert Beilschmidt

Pairing: SpUk/EngSpa [Spain x England]

Summary: In which Arthur gains a new muse.

Author’s Note: Whoops, I’m late again aaaaahhhh. This is for @engspaweek, Day 2! Free form prompt 7! I promise it’s SFW, the title is just a Spring Awakening song that seemed to fit. Uh, this one is a college setting AU, I guess? I don’t know, it just sort of ended up that way.

The first time Arthur meets Antonio Fernández Carriedo, his immediate thought is that he’s the most idiotic, second most obnoxious, and most ridiculously handsome person that Arthur has ever met in his life. He’s all tan skin and dark hair and blinding smiles and Arthur can’t look away from brilliant, green eyes and dark, long lashes until Francis clears his throat and Arthur realizes that the first most obnoxious person he knows - the aforementioned Frenchman - is smirking wickedly.

Arthur already knows he’s screwed.

--

“Antonio’s a dancer, you know,” Francis tells him, later, stirring the whipped cream into his coffee.

Arthur chokes on his tea.

“I never asked.”

Francis smirks. “Just thought you’d like to know he’s really flexible.”

Suffice to say, Francis ends up footing the bill.

--

“Arthur, right? Francis’ friend?”

Arthur starts at the voice and nearly drops his phone in his haste to whirl around, coming face to face with startling green eyes. Of course it’s Antonio, the one time Arthur looks like trash.

It’s been a long day and the blond is heading to his last class, wearing his pajamas - he’d been too exhausted to bother with changing when he woke up this afternoon, but now he’s regretting it. Antonio looks flawless, if not stylishly disheveled. He’s smiling that damn smile again and Arthur wants to put his hands on both of Antonio’s cheeks, lean in really close, and demand to know if Antonio realizes how cute he is.

The thought itself leaves the tips of his ears burning and he coughs behind his hand in order to hide his embarrassment.

“Yes, that’s me,” he replies, gaze darting, “Antonio, correct?”

If at all possible, Antonio’s smile brightens. “You remembered!”

Arthur cracks a smile. “I did.”

--

He finds out Antonio is a Botany major.

Arthur himself is majoring in Criminal Psychology and the workload is killing him; Antonio always seems so carefree. Arthur finds him, often, in the school greenhouse on the roof. He looks at home in the warmth, dazzling with the sun at his back. He’s not so terrible when he isn’t with Gilbert and Francis - certainly more tolerable. Arthur won’t admit it, but he enjoys the moments they spend on the roof.

He listens more than he speaks, but Antonio always has lots to talk about.

He talks about everything from plants to his friends to his family to random facts that Arthur never would’ve known if he hadn’t heard it straight from Antonio.

The more they talk, the deeper Arthur sinks, the more his chest aches. There’s no way a guy like this isn’t already claimed.

--

“So,” says Francis, sliding into step alongside Arthur with that same obnoxious smirk, “I’ve noticed you and Antonio have been spending an awful lot of time together.”

“So?” Arthur glowers.

He’s not in the mood for Francis’ attitude today; the blond is like a brother to him; an irritable one, but a brother, nonetheless - but Arthur is liable to punch him today. His mood is sour and he isn’t entirely sure why. Francis just rolls his eyes and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

“So,” Francis drawls, ignoring Arthur’s very clear hint, “it’s a shame he doesn’t have a boyfriend yet.”

Arthur’s gaze darts up. “...You have my attention.”

Francis’s ever present smirk morphs into a wicked grin.

--

Arthur’s trying to describe the exact green of Antonio’s eyes. He writes poetry in his free time, burns it often, never dares to show another soul. Lately he’s found a muse in the form of his own personal sun, a man with emerald- no, evergreen, he muses, or bottle, perhaps? - but not quite that, eyes.

These, he stocks, hiding them wherever he can in his dorm room. He buries them beneath the mattress and under the pillow, shoves them into drawers and tucks them behind posters and between books. He feels like the protagonist of some cheesy fanfiction, hearts spilling from between his fingers as he tries in vain to keep them crushed against his chest.

Sometimes his roommate gives him odd looks when he returns to Arthur scribbling away furiously, only to fold the paper as many times as he can and tuck it into hiding with all the others.

Thankfully, his motives are never questioned.

Arthur doesn’t do spoken word, but he’s not sure if he could stop once he got started.

--

“Are we friends?” Antonio asks, out of the blue.

Arthur isn’t even drinking anything this time, but he’s not expecting it and he nearly chokes again anyways. He’s in the library this time, papers and study notes spread across the table he’s claimed in the corner. He’s studying, preparing for a big upcoming exam, and isn’t paying his surroundings any attention, so Antonio’s abrupt presence startles him half out of his skin.

Arthur’s heart is in his throat and he takes a half hissed breath in, pressing his palm flat against his chest.

“Bloody hell, Antonio,” he breathes, “warning would be nice?”

There it is again; that same grin that makes the Spaniard’s eyes light up. Antonio slides into the seat across from Arthur, shoes knocking lightly against Arthur’s shins beneath the table. Arthur ducks his head, turning his gaze on the papers again. The words are all starting to blur together; god, he’s exhausted.

“How long have you been studying?” Antonio asks, twisting the little cloth bracelets he’s always wearing.

“Um,” says Arthur, eloquently, “I don’t know.”

Antonio’s fingers stop. Arthur catches himself watching them. He tears his gaze away and slaps his cheeks to help him focus. Study your work, Arthur, not Antonio’s very… attractive, uh, his thoughts choose not to cooperate with him.

“Hey,” says Antonio, reaching out to touch Arthur’s fingers.

It gives Arthur a start; his gaze snaps back up to Antonio’s clear eyes. “...Huh?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Antonio tells him, withdrawing his hand with an odd look, “are we friends? I mean… You always seem kind of chill around me, so I assumed so? Then again, I see the way you act with Francis, so maybe not-”

Arthur cuts in, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Of course we are.”

The grin is worth it. “In that case, here,” he laughs, twisting and handing what looks to be - oh, bless Antonio - coffee.

Arthur half snatches it. “You, my friend, are an angel.”

Kelly green. No, malachite.

--

Arthur is convinced this is the creepiest thing he’s ever done in his life. He sinks further down in the booth, fixing his hood over his eyes. Across from him, Francis, dressed only in a pair of shades and a trench coat for a disguise, just smiles calmly and reclines, absently twirling his straw.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into doing this,” Arthur whines, but his voice is quiet.

Francis rolls his eyes. “As I recall, stalking one of my best friends was your idea.”

“I am not stalking him, I’m just… curiously observing from afar!”

“Uh huh,” says Francis, expression visibly showing that he didn’t believe him, “anyways, can we wrap this up soon? I’ve got a date.”

“A da-?”

“With my boyfriend?” Francis rolls his eyes again. “Honestly, Arthur, you don’t pay attention to anything once you’re infatuated with someone.”

“Infa-!” Arthur hides a cough. “I am not.”

Francis lifts one eyebrow, and then shifts, smiling at something behind Arthur. “Oh, Antonio! Fancy seeing you here!”

Arthur releases the most startled squeak and whips around - only to find that Antonio is in the exact same place he’d been before, perched in a window booth with his back to the wall and typing away on his laptop. The cafe’s door dings as another customer comes in. She crosses to Antonio and slides in across from him, hasty apologies coming from her.

Arthur’s chest twists at the sight of Antonio’s dazzling grin.

“That’s it,” he snaps, feeling the tips of his ears burning, “I’m killing him.”

Francis takes a calm sip of his coffee, disinterested. “Or you could just man up and ask him out.”

Arthur sinks down. “K-Killing is… easier…”

Francis just lifts his gaze. “Oh, hello, Antonio.”

“Francis,” Arthur starts, “I’m not going to fa-”

“Francis! Hey!”

Arthur chokes.

--

“Figured I’d find you up here,” Arthur says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat.

Antonio is sitting near the edge of the greenhouse, staring out into the distance over autumn blanketed trees. The air is getting colder as the fall encroaches, closing decaying fingers around the earth. Antonio looks sad to see the summer go.

He smiles, softly, as Arthur approaches. “Guess I’m sort of predictable, eh?”

“More or less. It’s not a bad thing.”

“You were looking for me?”

“Yes, well,” Arthur cards his fingers through his hair and drags his tongue over his dry lips, “I figured it was about time I told you something.”

Antonio’s eyes are wide and curious. He tips his head and turns full to face Arthur, waiting for him to speak. Arthur is taking his time, collecting his thoughts, wondering if this is such a good idea. He supposes it can’t hurt - well, that’s a lie, since it just means their entire friendship is at stake - but between Francis and others pushing him, Arthur just wants it off his chest.

That, unfortunately, doesn’t mean he’s going to be eloquent about it.

“You’re kind of, sort of, uh, rather,” Arthur clears his throat, looks away, “you’re always on my mind and I don’t really know how to handle it?”

Well, he supposes, there’s a reason he doesn’t do spoken poetry.

Antonio blinks, baffled by the rapid stream of words. “Are you… confessing to me?”

“Perhaps?” Arthur manages, unsurely.

“Well,” says Antonio, “I certainly hope you are, because I’ve got to be honest, I’ve probably been head over heels for you since… Maybe two weeks after we met?”

God, Arthur feels like he can breathe again.

“Thank goodness,” he sighs, slinking forward into Antonio’s waiting arms.

In the end, he just settles for emerald. 

[certifiablyplatinum]

Can you save my heavydirtysoul?(Please say you can.)Twenty One Pilots concert story, 10/22/19

As I had missed my GA Floor seat show in June at home in Cbus due to my woeful injury,  I decided to buy tickets when the boyz announced their second leg and  stop in Cincinnati.  I mean, why not? Fangirling all over the place here. Of course, I was taking Jordan, as the summer of 2016 was the Blurryface summer and we played it out on our deck almost every night. I am secure in my vast music knowledge and boldly admit my love for Twenty One Pilots just as I do my more bizarre and obscure bands. Diversity is where it’s at, babies, ya like what ya like.

The brilliant blue October day arrived, and my preparations were made.  

First, I chose a hotel north of Cinci. I had a work retreat on the south side of Columbus the next morning, so shaving off those ends saved me time.

Secondly, I told the wayward Jordan “Meet me at XXX South High Street with your bags packed at 3:30 pm.” (referring to the event space I needed to be at the day after the show.)  Jordan: Huh? Where? Why?  Me: Just meet me there.

Third, I called the event space to ensure I could leave a car parked there overnight.

Fourth, I packed an overnight bag with 17 different outfits. I am not sure why.

 I left work and drove to the space I was to be at the next morning, and Jordy showed up VERY promptly. (Me texting her: It’s just past the bridge going over 71.  Her reply: I have GPS.)

 She tossed her bags in my car,  locked her car up, and off we went together.  She drove, as I needed to focus up with a call and verbal beatdown to  A T & T and a little light  bill paying. An hour and a half later we arrived at our Blu hotel in Blue Ash, freshened up, poured a Citron and G2, and called an Uber to US Bank Arena.

 Our driver pulled up, we tossed our cardboard coffee cups in the trash, and hopped in. He looked back at us randomly asked, “Do you like country music?”  I diplomatically and cheerfully answered, “I do if you do!” He seemed to doubt my sincerity, as he wordlessly handed me his phone. I chose a 90s alt-rock playlist and, well…. Pearl Jam’s Jeremy came on first.  I believe this set the tone for the whole evening and led to my overall uninhibited abandon. Because here’s the deal—I have this thing where I have a primal need to sing Pearl Jam loudly and also in a PREEEEETY spot-on Eddie Vedder voice. I simply can’t not do it. So when  I began to bellow along in my Eddie voice, Mohammed turned the radio up so loud that my ears were bleeding, as if to urge me along. Still, I sang on. (OOoooh my jaw left hurtin’, OOoohhh dropped wide open…)

 Anyway, we got dropped off and headed to get food and drinks at the Holy Grail Tavern.  Both Jordan and I couldn’t stop looking at our attractive server.  It got so that we were laughing out loud when she whizzed past us because we (the server and me) were always accidentally locking eyes.  I said, “Oh my God she’s going to think – who is this perv staring at me?”  And Jordan said, “Well,  *I* get to see her as she walks away and she has a great butt.” This led us to the conclusion that we couldn’t stop looking at her because we, as a species, are so used to ugly being the norm  (“Have you BEEN to the BMV, Elaine?”) that we can’t stop looking at people who are attractive.  We drink them in like a scarce hidden spring in a dusty desert.   The server asked, “One check or two?”  as soon as we finished our food and apparently I spoke loudly and with a bit of shock: “Well I am HAVING another drink!”  

 We chugged away and then around 7 we headed out the door.  I was in a bit of a conundrum because I had already walked a great deal and I didn’t know what side of the stadium we were on, and I didn’t want to walk in circles for nothing, as BabyCalf and BionicTendon were a lil sore. Just then, (of course, because this is how things happen to witchy little me), a jolly man called from one lone open-air shuttle across the street: “Need a ride?”  And how!  Not only did we get a ride, we got the VIP drop off at the secret back elevator!  Up we went,  got scanned in, and found our kickass seats—basically 6 rows up from the floor.

 Once we knew where our seats were, we went up to the stuffed and crammed hallway overflowing with yellow and camo-clad Cliquers, and made our way to a hallway bar cart.  The windows behind the bar cart looked out to the open air terrace.  We figured we would go out and get some fresh air rather than wait in our seats, and asked the bartender, “Can we have someone let us back in if we go out there?” She said “No, but you can keep walking around the corner and come back in the main entrance.”  No problem! But was it? We soon found it was, as we wandered back up to the main entrance with our brazenly open containers and were told, “No re-entry!” by a shocked looking person who may as well have added, “You dumbasses!”

 “BUT! BUT! She said we could come back in this way!” I eloquently burst forth.

The ‘who are these stupid people’ gate attendant said with some ‘tude: “Who. Is. ‘She’?”

“The bartender!” I pouted.

“You can’t have open containers either!” he parried again, noticing our drinks.

“Well what do we DO!?” I demanded, my Scarlett O’Hara inconvenience bubbling up.

He sighed and pointed. “That guy in the blazer is the manager. Go talk to him.”

 Another witchy win: the plaza was empty except for the one, lone, blazered manager, talking to a cop! What are the chances he was right there?  I strolled up, my drink still blatant AF, and explained our predicament.

“No re-entry,” he said.

“Oh my God! We were clearly here! We had to get in to even be here with a drink in our hand. She told us we could go out on the terrace and walk around to get back in!”

“Who is ‘she’? And no open containers.” he chided.

 Amazingly,  our damsel in distress act got us back in and the manager bellowed “Let ‘em through!” to all the ticket attendants, and we sailed on through, triumphant. “Comin through!” I waved my hands. Back to our seats we went!

 MIsterwives opened up, and I get it, auburn-maned singer Mandy Lee has a wild falsetto that yips and yodels and leaps around, putting me in mind of Kate Bush’s vocal style. Their wavy, colorful set and lighting was bright and cheery with rainbow tones and pops of pinks and yellows. The highlight was their cover of Lizzo’s “Truth Hurts”.   Ballsy move!  They bopped, boogied and bounced with great gusto all over the stage and when they finished with a rollicking “Our Own House”  with its zesty horn riffs, the crowd was getting into it.  (Jordan and I happened to be sitting in the “Family Section” and felt chastened by the uncertain-faced teens at their first show, not quite sure how to let loose, and their basic and somewhat resigned parents – neither of which group had a drink in their hands. Jordan made several trips up and back, soaking these poor people with vodka as she sloshed her way back to her seat.)

 FINALLY – the main event! The arena seethed with anticipation when the curtain billowed back and forth, sooo close to unveiling the set and stage. Finally, in a burst of red lasers and flames, Josh and Tyler appeared on the scene and ripped right into Jumpsuit, performed as a car on fire burned behind them. JUMPSUIT! JUMPSUIT! COVER ME! He screamed at the close, as we all did.

 Visually, the evening was a treat for the senses.  Kaledoscopic shifting colors and shapes, lasers, catwalks, a B Stage…. Costume changes and bridges,  Josh Dun and his abs on full display, Tyler with his various hats and costumes and instruments,  a glittering swath of twinkling lights for the gentle “Neon Gravestones” shining like stars caught in a net: The production of this tour was top-notch and stunning, allowing for a visual orgy to accompany the talent of the hometown boys. I stumbled across a line that I think puts it perfectly:

“This wasn’t a band rocking out, despite how hard Dun plays the drums. This was a post-apocalyptic rapper-hero performing songs with his drummer-sidekick nearby, in the midst of lasers and explosions.” They really do have a kind of anime’,  lone-wolf kind of renegade vibe going, especially with the way their albums tend to run with storylines: The Blurryface character, and now the bishops and mysterious DEMA of Trench.

Their setlist was packed full of the goodies…. Stressed Out (“what’s my name?” Tyler would chant rhythmically.)  The frenetic insanity and staccato rapping of Heavy Dirty Soul. My favorite from Trench, The Hype, or as I say “The song with the best ukulele-backed bridge ever written.” God that song is tight! They shifted stages during the end of “Nico and the Niners” and returned back on the main stage by the time Holding On To You started….. ahhhh, where Josh does his perfectly timed backflip from the piano! Lean with it, rock with it. Swoon, y’all.   Tyler’s laid-bare confessions are what resonate, causing the band’s wildfire-like leap to global fame.

 Something that is becoming a bit of tradition with the duo is that every show, as far as I know, has always ended with Trees. It’s a euphoric communal outpouring to close the night, everyone jumping up and down singing “LA LA…. LA LA LA LA LA LA….. HELLOOOOOOO!”  It’s a soft start, a gentle and sad build, and then a sweaty screamfest at the end. PERF!

 As we made our way out the doors and across the plaza, we made up songs like “My momma needs to take an elevator because of her busted tendon” – Jordan, and “OOooh but I got ma fishnet stockings on, yeahh” -Me.  Jordan also stepped on my foot and I howled in pain as she knelt before with remorse, boozily patting and stroking my foot.

 Sooo we grabbed another Uber, and here’s where things shifts from a normal boozy concert night to one for the books. Our dude, Dean, pulled up with the license plate that began with LGR.  Our relationship began with my opening sentence: “Your license plate says LIGER, like Napoleon Dynamite.  It’s a lion—and a tiger!”  And bam! Merrily we roll along!

 I am not quite sure how this went from polite chatter to veering off the rails, but I will condense and recount what went down as best I can recall.

Jordan: She had her achilles’ tendon repaired!

Dean: Oh, I can fix that.

(Like, totally matter of fact. Oh, I can fix that.)

 Jordan: Really?  YES!

Dean: Sure. We’re all made of electricity.  We’re just made of electric particles and neurons. I consult all over to doctors because I fix people.

Jordan: Why are you driving an Uber?

Me: .

Dean: Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.

Me: …How???

Dean: Electricity.

Jordan: How do you know how to do this?

Dean: I’m just kind of brilliant with this kind of stuff.

 OK, so, I’m kind of brushing it off at this point, thinking I’ll ditch him when we arrive at the ol’ Blu. Dean says he’s going to find a place to park and he will be right in. Jord and I get out and stand outside for a minute as we watch him drive around the corner.  “Let’s just go in,” I say.  “Yeah,” she agrees, “I think he left.”  My brain was so jumbled with confusion I wasn’t sure what was going on.  Was he actually planning on coming up to the hotel room?  “Let’s get inside,” I said, relieved that he probably was just messing with us and took off.

 The automatic glass doors blew open to the lobby and we walked in. Right behind us, a dude with a bag of City BBQ carryout and a gray medical-looking case followed us in.

Jordan: What’s that?

City BBQ dude: This is my (blah, blah, blah.)  It uses electricity to heal injuiries. (He says a name similar to   something like the Electralux El Diablo 5000.)

Jordan: She tore her achilles!

City BBQ dude: Yes, this equipment will heal it.

ME: (whipping my head back toward him):  OH MY GOD!!!! MY UBER DRIVER JUST SAID THAT TOO!  WHAT ARE THE CHANCES!?

Like, seriously, I am thinking this guest of the hotel is maybe a doctor in for a conference, or whatever.  It was only through muddled bits and pieces clicking together in my brain during the ride up in the elevator and ending when the bbq-toting man did not go to his “room” but walked in OURS that I fucking realized…

This guy WAS MY UBER DRIVER.

Not 2 separate people, both coincidentally on a mission and willing to fix bodily injuries with a machine with the equipment on their person.

 I was so confused when faced with this reality it was like I was living in an alternate universe.  As I am sputtering around saying, “Oh my God, I never really saw your face in the car, just the back of your head” Dean is busily and efficiently placing electrodes on my ankles, calves, shins, even my goddamn glutes.  I find myself saying, “You know, my shoulder has hurt a bit lately too” and he briskly whips my arm around and jams his thumb right where it hurts, murmurs the word “Release…..” and then slaps an electrode on my shoulder. THEN he hooks Jordan up. “Is this a TENS unit?”  I ask. “Pfft.  This makes a TENS unit look like child’s play” he retorts proudly.

Jordan and I are now are standing next to each other looking like inmates of The Green Mile and sizzling with pulsating electricity.   Dean eats his corn pudding, yanking the current up and down based on our grunts of discomfort. My phone is in my hand at all times with the first two numbers of 9 – 1 punched in and on high alert.  But as he contentedly moves on to his green beans with his feet kicked up on the table in front of him, I have to admit he looks pretty harmless.  

 I think Dean the Electrode Machine was in our room until midnight, giving us confident tips on how to heal, saying he could bring his machine anywhere in the world, and I finally started giving signs of get-out-I’m-tired. In a gentlemanly way, he bid us adieu, as I babbled on about leaving him a big tip.  I mean, he invited himself to cure me, but isn’t his time and trouble worth something?  I tipped him 30 dollars and added him on Facebook.  

 Jordan and I try to get ready for bed but she then runs into a couple of questionable characters and starts talking to them. The three of them are standing outside (why did we go back outside? Perhaps to bid Dean adieu, I believe.) They start cooking up plans like long lost homies.  I say “Get upstairs” and take her arm.  (She can be hard to manage once she crosses that line.)  We get in bed.  It is nearing 1am. Jordan lays on top of me crying and blubbering “Promise me you won’t ever die.”   I say kindly as I smooth her hair, “I will though.”   We laugh about being electrocuted by our Uber driver.  I say I can’t believe he just invited himself to our hotel room.  She casually says with the air of a jaded and well-worn matriarch: “Please, Mom, everybody hangs out with their Uber drivers in their hotels now.” Then she gets up again and walks out the door.  I am fading fast but I manage to say, “GET BACK IN HERE! Where are you going?”  I close my eyes for a minute and I open them when I hear the door open again and Jordan puts her face right next to mine and whispers in a low, clear, concerned voice:

“Mom. There is a naked man sitting in the egg chair in the hallway masturbating.”

“Huh?” I whisper back.

She repeats it.

With STRANGE AND STOIC CALM considering my inebriated and disoriented state, I pick up the desk phone.  The next thing I know, I am whispering as calmly and clearly as Jordan did: “Hello. This is Room 303. I want you to know there is a naked man masturbating in the egg chair up here in the hallway.”

 DEAD ASS PAUSE on the other end. Finally: “Umm, ahh, ok, I… I .. uhhh… I’ll come check it out.”

Five minutes later the phone startles me out of my slip into slumber.  

“Hello?” I answer.

“He’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yes. The man. No man.”

“Okay.”

 It is 2:30 now and I don’t just fall asleep—I hurtle into it like a plane crashing into the ground, fading to black.  I don’t wake up until I hear something.  It sounds familiar.  It’s a ringing sound.  It’s that thing that makes you wake up. But where is it?  “Jordan,”  I hiss. “Huh?” she moans.  She bolts upright and grabs her phone and stares at it. “This is new,” she whispers.  “Make it stop!”  I cry. The ringing continues.  I realize it’s coming from my phone which is on the floor.  I remember how to make it stop.  It’s 6:45 am. I lay in exhausted torment until 7:15. Then 7:30.  Then with every ounce of strength I can muster, I get my ass up and get to the excruciating business of  getting my shit together and getting my shit together…( sayin’ wake up, ya need to make money!)  At 8:10 Jordan and I are both in the car with a cup of coffee.  You’re not hard core unless you live hard core, like Dewey Finn says.

 I sail up 71 without incident.  The coffee kicks in and I’m actually feeling pretty okay. At 9:49, I pull into the venue we are at for the day at work. Jordan’s car is safe and intact.  I find a parking spot, wave to my friend, and tell Jordy to wake up.

 She sits up, opens her eyes, retches, opens the door, and promptly vomits down the side of my car.

I squeal, then chant prayerfully: OMG PLEASE DO NOT PUKE IN FRONT OF MY CO-WORKERS!

 I don’t even see her leave.  She is gone, slinking away to her car, as I had practically pushed her out of a moving vehicle.

 So.  That’s my review of Twenty One Pilots and a little story thrown in to boot.  

 PS My foot doesn’t feel any better.

PSS Pics below of Tyler, Josh, me, Jordan,and Dean.

[saythename17scenarios]

Mingyu daycare!au please~

- you have a little brother who’s about five years old- every day, your mom drops him off at daycare before she goes to work- but one day, she’s been asked to come to work earlier so you tell her that you’ll drop your brother off first; your shift at your part-time job doesn’t start for another two hours anyway- so you walk down the streets holding your little brother’s hand while he enthusiastically tells you how excited he is to see teacher mingyu- you ask “who’s teacher mingyu?” and your brother tells you that he’s the coolest and funniest teacher ever- and he tells you that one time he climbed on mingyu’s shoulders and it felt like he could see the world and you just laugh as how innocent that sounded- you finally get to the daycare and you kneel down to unzip his winter jacket and while you’re telling him to behave, someone says “good morning, (your little brother’s name)!!”- your brother exclaims “good morning teacher mingyu!!” and at his words, you look up- and you see this tall, handsome boy standing by the door- he’s wearing an apron too but it looks so cute how does he do it????- you just look at your little brother and scream with your eyes “why didn’t you tell me he was GOOD-LOOKING I LOOK LIKE TRASH RIGHT NOW”- after unzipping your little brother’s coat, you stand up straight and say “good morning” to which mingyu replies “good morning!! you’re his sibling i’m guessing??”- you nod “that’s me. i was just here to drop him off so…. i’ll be going now”- mingyu smiles “it was nice meeting you” and you say “you too” before practically sprinting out the door- you get back home and the whole time you’re waiting for your shift to start and even during your shift, you just keep thinking about how you looked so bad in front of someone so handsome and you’re like fml- after work, you check your cellphone to see that your mom sent you a text message saying that she’s going to be doing overtime- but then it says that teacher mingyu’s already been informed, and your little brother’s just waiting for you to pick him up now- you’re like NO NOT AGAIN- you look at the time and you can’t even run home to change because your little brother ended like ten mins ago already- you just wrap your scarf around your mouth and pull your hood up to hide yourself- but while you’re walking there, it actually is really cold and you reach into your pockets to take out your mittens only to realize you left them home and you’re like great- when you finally get to the daycare, you see mingyu zipping up your little brother’s jacket and you just melt at the scene because HOW CUTE- when your brother sees you, he gives mingyu a hug before running up to you and grabbing your hand- mingyu walks over to you and you sink deeper into your jacket- he says “hi again!! is it cold outside??”- before you could answer or even greet him back, your little brother nods and says “their hands are cold!!”- mingyu says “oh, in that case….” he then walks over to the coat hanger and reaches into a trench coat and pulls out a pair of mittens- he walks over to you and says “you can borrow these for today”- you shake your head and exclaim “no it’s fine!! you’re going to get cold!!”- mingyu just smiles and says “i’d feel more at ease if you took them, you can return them whenever you can”- you say “oh…. thank you” and you take the mittens while smiling- when you exit the daycare, your little brother says “you’re all red” and you just go like SH NO I’M NOT LET’S GO- the next day, you offer to take your brother to daycare again so that you can give mingyu his mittens back- and you made sure to dress up nicely LOL- you get there, and you fail to notice mingyu’s face light up when he sees you- he walks over to you and says “good morning” and you smile “good morning” while holding out the mittens you borrowed from him- mingyu takes them and you say “i hope you weren’t too cold yesterday….” and he says “i wasn’t cold at all, don’t worry. i never got your name by the way….?”- you say “oh! i’m (name), it’s nice to meet you” and he says “nice to meet you too.”- while talking to him, you see the other kids pulling on his shirt saying “teacher mingyu!! are they your s/o??”- you and mingyu shakes your heads “no!! it’s not like that!!”- that’s when you excuse yourself, leaving to get to your work- but since that day….. you’ve been the one to bring your little brother to daycare- you and mingyu have become good friends over time- you’d sometimes bring him a drink from your work and he’d give you an extra meal he made in class- but with time, you realize that you’ve fallen for him- you know you’ll probably never confess so for now…. being friends is good enough for you- you feel like you’re really obvious though because every day, your little brother asks “do you like teacher mingyu??” but you always say “you’re five, why are you asking me this? LOL”- but one day, while walking your brother to daycare, he asks you for the hundredth “do you like teacher mingyu??”- you sigh in exasperation and say “yes i do. i like him a lot. now will you stop asking?”- his eyes brighten when you say that and he says “really??” and you nod your head and say “really.”- you finally get to the daycare, and like always, you and mingyu talk for a while- but the kids pull on his shirt and exclaim “teacher!! we have to get started right away!!”- you ask “another project?” and mingyu nervously laughs and replies “yeah i guess you can say that….”- you say “have a good day then, i’ll be back later to pick my brother up” and when you exit the door, you can’t help but think that mingyu looks a bit uneasy today- you eventually forget about it and go on with your day- your shift finally comes to an end and you get to the daycare, but weirdly…. there aren’t any kids at the entrance getting ready to leave with a parent- in fact, everything’s just dead silent….- you call out “mingyu?? is everything okay??” but when you don’t receive an answer, you walk into the room- and you gasp when you see the room decorated with streamers and balloons- but what surprises you most is to see all the little kids holding up a sign that says “(name), i like you!!”- mingyu then jumps up from behind the huge sign with flowers in his hand and laughs “it was the kids’ idea….. i know it’s really cheesy, but…… will you go out with me?”- you laugh and when you nod your head, all the kids cheer excitedly- especially your little brother- when he runs up to you, you ask “is that why you kept asking me if i liked him??”- he grins “he told me to ask!!”- when mingyu hears that, he runs over to him and covers his mouth and says “NO I DIDN’T”- you laugh “really, mingyu?” and he just grins sheepishly as he hands you the flowers he got you- you say “thank you” and you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek, but he says “woah, not in front of the children”- you look down to see the kids either covering their eyes, giggling or gasping- you say “why not?”- after you kiss him, you both laugh as the kids all scream in either excitement or disgust- but really, they’re all just happy to see that the person their favorite teacher likes feels the same way

thank you for your request!! ^^

[imagineimuptonogood]

JugBug || Jughead J.

Word Count: 2266

Warnings: None:)

A/N: Riverdale is my newest obsession and obviously my favorite character is Jughead Jones. I’ve never read the comics but I’ve seen that there he is asexual, however, I’m pretty sure the show is changing him (AKA Bughead) and that’s how I want to write him. I’m sorry if that offends you, but come on, who doesn’t want a little fluff/smut from the mysterious closed-off hottie in the gray beanie? Also, I wrote this at 2 AM when I couldn’t sleep so if it is complete trash, let me know. I value you all comments unless it involves hate. :) 

Sidenote: Thank you to all of the people that followed me after Holy Trench Coat! I love you all so much and you are the best!

(gifs are not mine)

           It was Friday, the typical day that you rejoiced all your happiness because the week was finally over. You didn’t have to go to school, and you could sleep for as long as your mother allowed you to before she decides she needs to vacuum the house and wake you up.

           Normally, on Fridays, You would have a fantastic breakfast of waffles and bacon at Pop’s with a certain raven-haired boy as he typed and you drew, before you headed out to a prison that forced learning upon you. After you would serve your eight-hour sentence, you and sometimes Juggie, if he hadn’t already walked there, headed to Pop’s. Yes, you do interact with people on the way. It is a fair few and normally short conversations as your sarcastic humor is just not appreciated as much as it should be. 

           However, today is different. Your alarm casually didn’t go off and you were rudely awakened by a loud fist slamming into your door. Ever since you realized that your door had a lock on it, you made sure to use it and last night was no different. It definitely helped when your mother decided you didn’t need to sleep anymore.You thought you had fooled her but you were wrong and that was when she began to use the vacuum as punishment and to this day you can’t stand to look at that Dyson Dirt Devil. It even has devil in the name!

           Groaning, you stuck a pillow over your head trying to drown out the banging. After what felt like an hour, but was possibly only five minutes the knocking went away. A soft sigh left your lips as you snuggled deeper into your covers waiting for sleep to overtake you once more.

           However, you were sadly mistaken. The intruder did not go away and just as you were perfectly comfortable, your blanket was snatched off your body and the cold air from the AC unit blew goosebumps on your skin. Your eyes immediately sprung open and you sat up.

           The raven-haired boy didn’t even say anything, but as soon as you stood up his smug expression changed. You watched the smirk drop from his thin light pink lips and his brows furrow.

           “What the hell Juggie? How did you even get in?” Your eyes watched as his hand lifted to show the key that you had given him at the beginning of summer.

           “Oh, makes sense,” You concluded sitting up further as you were now wide awake. With your small hands balled into fists, you rubbed them against your eyes to make sure they were clean of any sleep gunk before letting out the most un-ladylike whale noise and stretching both your arms to the now invisible stars.

           “Is that my shirt?” Jughead’s voice brought you back to reality and you immediately stopped your daily routine of the infamous “whale stretch” and looked down. The old hunter green v-neck was big on you. Not too big to be over-sized, but enough so that if you stood up your lady-bits would be covered. It was your favorite shirt to sleep in. The softness of the tee was just right and if you were being 100% honest with yourself the only reason you started to wear it was because it smelled just like Jughead. Pinewood, Old Spice, and burger grease were now only a memory of scents since your mother decided to wash it after finding it on your floor one morning. Now, it was “blessed” by the scent of Gain Moonlight Breeze fabric softener and it came at a far second to the original. You still wore it, it made me feel closer to him.

           Heat rose to your cheeks. You didn’t ever expect him to see this shirt ever again, let alone you in it. “Uh, yeah. Maybe.”

           That seemed to break Jughead out of his trans he was in as his blue eyes raked over your figure. “That’s where it went.”

           Deciding to not let the moment get any more awkward than it already had, you broke the silence. “So, what are you doing here JugBug?”

           He winced at the nickname still not too fond of it, but for some reason he let you use it. “It’s Friday and you didn’t come into Pop’s this morning for waffles, so I knew something had to be wrong. However, I can see it was just laziness and you didn’t wake up to your alarm.” He smirked at her once more, dropping himself into her black computer chair that was to the left of her queen-sized bed. Her comforter laid abandoned on the ground in front of him.

           She rolled her eyes at him but smiled. “I apologize Juggie, I didn’t know my presence was of such importance to you.”

           This time it was his turn to roll his eyes. “It’s not.” Lies “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t the second person murdered in the crazy town.”

           Even though he meant it as a joke and deep down you knew it was one, your heart crack slightly. Having a crush on Jughead wasn’t easy. He didn’t often show affection, his sarcastic humor most of the time got the best of him, and you were almost completely sure he had no feelings for you what so ever. That didn’t stop you from loving him, though. You loved his humor, his style, his determination, his detective skills, his love of movies, honestly, there wasn’t anything you disliked about your Jugbug, except maybe his father and the way he always put himself down, as if he wasn’t that important in anyone’s life.

           “Ouch Jugbug, my heart, it hurts.” His lips twitched up in an almost smile and I wanted to do a victory dance.

           “Yeah, yeah. Now, get up. We have six more hours of torturing ourselves while listening to old bags droning on and on about subjects only half of us care or pretend to care about.” He stated getting up from his chair and throwing the comforter back at you.

           You groaned again falling back against your pillows and looking over at the clock. He was right, it was only ten AM. Your arm fell over your face in defeat. That was until a brilliant idea struck your brain. “I don’t think so Juggie. I’m going to sit this one out.”

           “You’re skipping?” He questioned stopping to lean against the door frame. You could almost feel his amused expression behind your arm that guarded your eyes.

           Dropping your arm back to the bed, you drug your glaring eyes to stare at him. “You act like I haven’t done it before.”

           He shrugged. “You haven’t done it in a while. But don’t let me stop your fun.”

           He went to walk away, but you called after him. “Are you just going to leave and go back to scision?”

           His head popped back into the doorway with confusion written across his face. “Scision?” 

           You smiled at him. “School-prison.”

           He raised his eyebrows clearly not impressed with the word. “Please, don’t ever combine two words again and try to make them into new ones. Or else I’m going to start calling you a River Vixen who says like every few sentences and the words ‘awesomesauce’ and or ‘tots fab’.”

           A smirk worked its way onto your lips. “Why not, that would just be amazeballs?”

           “Now you are trying to scar me.” He retorted walking back into your room and dropping his bag near the end of the bed. “But, yes I have to head back. Betty wanted to talk to me about something.”

           Jealousy popped in your veins thinking about Betty anywhere near your Jugbug. Yes, the three of you were friends, but lately, after Archie confessed to having no feelings for Betty what so ever, it seemed she was flirting with Jug any chance she could get and it irked you to no end. Jug was yours. Well, not really but still. She knew you had feelings for him, he’s supposed to be off limits.

           “So, you wouldn’t even stay if we watched this?” You slid your hand over to the nightstand and help up Pulp Fiction. You could see his conflict in his eyes. To go or not to go seemed to be the question.

           “And I might even pay to have Pop’s delivered in about an hour for lunch?” That was the cherry on top. You knew that Jug couldn’t resist free food. Especially cheeseburgers from Pop’s.

           “You had me at skipping.” He clarified dumping his dark brown coat on your chair and sliding off his shoes, before coming over to the other side of your bed and slipping under the recently thrown dark blue comforter. His eyebrows furrowed as he realized you were staring at him. “What are you waiting for? Put the movie in Sunshine.”

           Sunshine was his nickname for you. It had come about just after Jugbug. He definitely wasn’t a fan of your name for him so he decided to call you something that annoyed you. Secretly, you thought it was the cutest thing, but you weren’t about to tell him that so he would stop.

           Rolling your eyes, you stood up and put the movie into the DVD player before returning to the bed.

             During the whole movie, you couldn’t help but feel like someone was staring at you and after looking over at the raven-haired boy, you realized someone was: Jughead. It would happen every few minutes. You would start to feel as if someone is watching you and you’d slightly look to your right. Immediately Jughead was intensely staring at the movie screen. You swore the guy might get whiplash.

           But as the first movie was coming to a close, you caught him staring one more time. This time, however, he was staring at your body and when you looked over to ‘catch him’ he didn’t even seem to notice. 

           “Jugbug, what are you staring at?” You whispered, not sure you wanted to know the answer.

           His head immediately swung up to meet your eyes. Those bright blue orbs shined as they widened. He glanced back down for a brief second before he looked back up at you. “I like you wearing my clothes.”

           The room’s temperature soared and you felt your whole body flush. “W-what?” You weren’t usual the one to stutter, but hearing those words come from Jug’s mouth made you very flustered, very fast. 

           Suddenly, Jug leaned closer staring into your eyes as if he was searching for something. “Why do you like wearing my clothes?”

           “Because they remind me of you.” The truth just blurted out and it seemed to take the poor boy by surprise and he leaned back but continued to stare at you straight in the eyes. You decided since this moment was coming to a turning point of good or bad you would finally try something that had to do with your feelings.

           “Can I try something?” You whispered once more, this time you were the one leaning closer.

           Faintly, Jughead nodded and you took your moment.

           The blue spheres watched your every move with anticipation. He had been waiting for this moment since freshman year when he finally began to see you as more than just his best friend. He just never had the balls to do this himself. Plus, he didn’t want to ruin the friendship that you both shared with unrequited feelings.

           You closed your eyes as your lips fell onto his and in that moment, you kicked yourself for waiting this long. You’d always thought that his lips would be rough, chapped, maybe even cracked from all the frustrated biting and constant licking that he did to them when he was writing, but they were as soft as butter. Smooth, pink, lines molded onto yours and a moan was let loose. You couldn’t tell if it was from you or Jug, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was when your lips touched his, he only tensed for a second before wrapping one arm around your waist and the other cupping your cheek as he held your lips together. He tasted like peppermint mixed with chocolate and you couldn’t get enough of it. 

           The need for air was the only thing that broke you two apart.

           Sliding back from him, you licked your lips hoping to taste him just a second longer. You hadn’t realized it, but your body now sat on his lap straddling him as his arms encircled your waist.

           For a few seconds, no one said anything and you two just looked at each other. This time, however, it was Jughead who broke the silence. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that to happen.”

           “I have a pretty good idea.” You whispered causing him to smile. A real smile this time. You mirrored his expression as the two of you leaned your foreheads together and pressed your lips against each other’s one more time.

           His hands squeezed your hips in happiness while pressing you closer to him. “I really like you, Maya.” He whispered. His eyes were closed while his forehead laid against yours. Your chests were pressed together adding to the temperature of the room, but neither of you moved. At first, you thought it was just yours, but soon you concluded that his heart was beating just as wildly as yours.

           Bringing your hand up you caressed his cheek with your thumb. His bright blue eyes slowly fluttered open to stare into yours. “I really like you too Jugbug.”

[hpjhyejung-blog]

✆ ♔ ♠ ☏ ⁇ ♣ ✘✺ √ ☠ ☢ ☼

✆ for a morning text

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): good morning

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): don’t forget it’s trash day

♔ for an angry text

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): hey, would you mind shutting the fuck up down there? 

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): you complain about me being loud

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): yet the people you bring over are so fucking loud.

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): thought you were murdering someone down there at 3am.

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): almost called the cops, but bitch you’re lucky you’re decent.

♠ for a drunk text

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): hey dud

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): by chsncw dod yuo drimk my vrown royal?

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): if yuo dud, i hste yuooo

☏ for a vague text

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): can you bring the shit over?

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): either one will do.

⁇ for a worried text

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): HAESOL

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): are you okay?

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): Jihoon told me what happened last night and I just wanted to check up on you buddy.

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): I just bought alcohol, you want some and we can talk?

♣ for a text not meant for you

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): I understand that twerking is hard but I’m not changing the choreo just because you have a flat ass, you tall piece of shit.

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): whoops

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): work stuff sorry

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): don’t leak that. thanks bud !

✘ for a text that should never have been sent

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): look quit crying over people who suck. they’re not worth your time dude.

✺ for a saucy text

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): your trench coat you wore last night was nice on you ;)

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): jkjk, it looked really bad on you and you somehow got buffalo sauce on it

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): forgot to tell you last night. hope you get that taken care of lol.

√ for a long-winded confession text

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): hey, I know I always say you’re a decent neighbor

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): but you’re actually the best one I could’ve ask for

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): thanks for dealing with my nonsense noises really late at night

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): thanks for being super cool with me

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): having dinner with you and our little chats actually means a lot to me.

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): i guess you’re actually a great neighbor

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): since you’re so great, can you pay me back for that tequila you drank the other night?

☠ for a misguided advice text

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): you totally should go for it!

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): sure you’re a piece of work

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): but that girl was so nice and pretty when I bumped into her

☢ for a desperate text

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): hey I know its late

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): but there’s a spider and I can’t go up to my bed with this spider on the steps

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): can you please help me??

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): KWON HAESOL

☼ for a congratulatory text

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): Jihoon told me that you didn’t vomit at the bar last night.

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): congrats~ buddy!

(kkt. lil angsty potato downstairs): but you owe me for the taxi last night.