#It’s very late for day 8 but I’m already working on day 9

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Sfth editmas day 8 was to redo an old edit, so I chose to redo my first ditch edit and the 3rd edit i’d ever made (I don’t think I ever actually posted it on tumblr)

anyway here’s the new version :)

Audio Credit: “i think i’m in love with u” by Toby Hobart

Video credit: shootimpro (longform #30 “The Unrelenting Aubergine.)

[httpdwaekki]

movie night | s.c. ft b.c.

summary: after a rough day all you wanted was a movie night with your favorite boys, but when they forget it feels like you’re world is crumbling.

wc: 2.1k

warnings: hurt/comfort, fem!reader, gendered terms of endearment (sweet girl, baby girl, etc.), crying, meltdown.

a/n: i kinda got lost in the sauce w this one but week three wooo!!! don’t forget to check out @straykeedz versions!!! i hope you guys enjoy and as always, drink water, eat something, and take ur meds. <3

(i tense switch alot during this, i wrote it half asleep most of the time, i’ll edit it eventually lmao)

my library | bee’s vers | bee | binnie month | fundraiser

(pictures not mine! credit to owners!)

you were having a terrible day, nothing was going right and the only thing keeping you from completely breaking down was the movie night you had planned with your boyfriends.

8 o’clock came and you were all set up in your living room with snacks, blankets and of course wolf chan and dwaekki. you were sat on the couch, barely containing your excitement for the night ahead.

but then 8:15 came and you were still sat there alone, and then 8:20 you decided to send them a gentle reminder.

from sweet girl <3:

hi my loves, i’m all set up for movie night whenever you guys are ready 🖤

but 8:30 rolled around and then 9:00 and by that point you had sent several texts

from sweet girl <3:

i’m assuming you guys are still at the studio, just let me know when you’re on your way! love you guys 🖤

it’s getting kinda late, i hope everything’s okay, love you both very much 🖤🖤

i hope everything’s okay, but it’s getting late so i’m heading to bed, we can do movie night another night, goodnight my loves

now it’s 10:00, you had a terrible day and now the one thing you were looking forward to fell through, you were defeated. at your last texts you moped into your room needing nothing more than your warm bed and comfort movie.

luckily you had already put the snacks away after an hour of waiting realizing they probably forgot. once cozy in bed, you put monsters inc on your tv and pulled the two stuffies to your chest.

it was at this point the realization of what happened hit and you couldn’t stop the breakdown that followed. tears streaming down your face, breathing terribly uneven, and incoherent words falling from your mouth.

“they- they forgot about me.” you whimpered, hugging the plushies impossibly closer to you. the hoodie from changbin that usually helps calm you down, was now just a painful reminder of the two missing people.

you ripped the article of clothing off in an attempt to calm yourself, throwing it across the room. you settled back into the soft mattress, placing the gray and pink plushes to the side, opting for your soft blanket to calm yourself.

luckily after a few minutes your comfort movie had worked it’s magic and you felt yourself relax enough to finally fall into dreamland, tears drying against your skin as you slept.

unbeknownst to you, your boys were scrambling 15 minutes away in the studio. the producers had a habit of locking up their phones during their working hours to limit distractions but unfortunately that caused them to also forget about the plans they made with their favorite girl.

“oh fuck, hyung we gotta go, like now.” changbin shot up out of his chair once he realized the time. they were supposed to be at your apartment 2 hours ago to start movie night. “huh? what, what happened, what’s wrong?” trying to figure out what could’ve pulled such a reaction from the younger boy.

“look at the time,” he points to the time to emphasize his statement. “oh fuck,” the older of the two’s eyes goes as wide a saucers, whipping his head to the former. “we were supposed to be there 2 hours ago.” bin nods his head before moving to shut everything down.

“okay, okay, relax bin, let me save everything, you pack everything up then we can leave, okay?” changbin nods, realizing he’s right, this will all be completely in vain if they lost everything they were working on.

in the midst of gathering their items, changbin finally looks at his phone where he finds all the messages you sent, the last one being sent 15 minutes ago. he quickly texts out a response, hoping you hadn’t fallen asleep yet.

from binbin <3:

princess we’re so so sorry, we got caught up in work, we’re packing and heading to you now. we love you so so much baby. 🩷🩷

he puts his nail in his mouth, gnawing on it anxiously as his leg shakes. after saving all the files and shutting everything down, chan turns back to find a very anxious changbin staring at his phone.

he makes his way next to him, placing his hand on the shaking leg. “hey, what’s going on?” he asks gently. changbin looks up, unshed tears line his soft eyes. “she texted us 11 times.” his breathes, shaking his head, showing him the phone screen.

“and we ignored every single one of them. what if she was hurt? what if something happened? we would’ve never known” he rambles, sending himself further into a spiral.

“hey, hey,” he gently grabs the younger’s cheek, “she’s safe, she’s home in bed asleep,” his thumb slowly stroking his cheek, soothing the anxious man. “we’re going to her now, everything will be okay, okay?” bin nods his head, closing his eyes, letting a stray tear or two run down his cheek.

chan wipes the tears before placing a soft, loving kiss to his temple. “okay, let’s go see our girl.” chan smiles, grabbing his hand pulling him up with him.

once they made it to your apartment (not without breaking a few traffic laws), they let themselves in with the spare key you made them. quickly discarding their shoes, practically running to your room but not without missing the wrapped up snacks in your kitchen or the discarded blanket pile on your couch.

changbin pauses, guilt clutching his heart as he sees your discarded preparations. “come on.” chan quietly ushers, pointing to your room with a quick movement of his head. bin is quick to follow, needing to see you as soon as possible.

chan opens your door, finding a sleeping lump in the middle of your bed and none other than monsters inc playing softly on the screen. that alone told them everything they needed to know but then the thrown hoodie on the floor and two plushies laying next to you instead of clutched to your chest?

they knew they messed up, big time. bin went to rush to you, to wake you up and apologize profusely but chan stops him. “hold on, you might scare her.” bin nods understanding that even though he means well, you were in a very fragile mental state.

the older man carefully sits on the side of your bed, placing a hand to your shoulder. it was only then did he catch a glimpse of the tears stains dried to your chubby cheeks. his breath hitches, causing changbin to look after, catching sight of the same thing, his eyes filling with tears once more.

chan holds out his hand to give him a quick squeeze and a kiss before turning back to the problem at hand. he lays his chin on your shoulder, softly rubbing your arm to coax you awake.

“sweet girl,” he whispers, placing kisses to your shoulder, trying to wake you up as softly as possible. “wake up baby girl.” you slowly come back to consciousness, realizing that there was someone touching you.

you would have been scared if you didn’t recognize the familiar aussie voice. chan sits back as he feels you stir, bin coming to sit beside him, placing a hand to your thigh.. you turn to find your boys looking at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

you feel the familiar sting behind your eyes but you quickly rub your eyes, masking your tears. “hi” your voice quiet, sleep lacing your voice. “hi sweetheart.” the aussie coos, “hi bunny.” bin whispers, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs soothing him you.

“we’re sorry baby, we completely lost track of time, and we put our phones away so we didn’t see you texted, we’re just- really sorry bubba.” you nod, willing your tears away before you spoke.

“it’s okay, i understand.” you say lowly, fidgeting with the soft material to keep your composure. but try as you might the two boys knew you all too well.

“no it’s not,” bin finally speaks, causing you to catch a glimpse of him. two streaks shine on his soft cheeks against the glow of the tv, caught your eye. you sit up, moving chan, attempting to reach changbin.

“it’s not okay, we knew we had plans with you today, and not only did we miss it, we ignored you-” you cut him off with a kiss, your hand coming to wipe the wet streaks away. you pull away, your own tears making their way down your chubby cheeks.

“i am upset, but i’m not mad. i just had a bad day and this was the one thing i was looking forward to and it was just the final straw.” pause, sniffling as chan grabs the hand still in your lap.

“i was inconsolable and your hoodie and the stuffies just felt like a reminder of my bad day.” you look down, your hand falling from the soft man’s cheek to your lap, where he grabs your hand. you hear a sniffle, cause your head to shoot up where you find them both with wet streaks on their cheeks.

your lip wobbles as you see your boys upset, you shake your head frantically. before you can even open your mouth, chan shakes his head before moving behind you, pulling you to his chest. binnie moves to sit in chan’s previous position, placing a soothing hand on your thigh.

“do not apologize, you did nothing wrong, us being upset or missing movie night is not your fault, nor is it your problem to fix.” he whispers in your ear, rubbing your soft tummy. your lip wobbles again, dropping your head into your hands as you sob.

bin moves to wrap his arms around you, bringing you to him as best he could with you against chan. they knew you were upset and the best thing for you was to let you cry it out as heart wrenching as your sobs are.

they just hold you as you calm down, binnie rubbing your back, placing kisses to your temple. chan rubbing your tummy, placing kisses to your shoulder.

you pull away once you feel calm enough, wiping your tears as you sniffle. “thank you, both of you, i love you both more than you know.” you give bin a kiss first before turning around as best you could, doing the same to chan.

“come on, let’s get you to sleep, we’ll talk more in the morning, sweet girl, okay?” he pats your tummy, waiting for you to nod your head before moving the blankets to give you space in the middle of the bed. you carefully move over, shivering as you land on the cold side of the mattress.

both boys get up, chan rounding the bed to get to the other side while binnie goes to grab his discarded hoodie. he makes it back to your side as chan sits on the edge of the bed.

“sit it up for me quick bunny. “ he says, kneeling on the bed, scrunching the fabric. you sit up, lifting your arms so he can slip the familiar fabric over your head. once you slide your hands through the sleeves, the hood covering a part of your face.

you give him a cheesy smile before shooting out to wrap your arms around him. he wraps his arms around your shoulders, placing a big kiss to your hood covered head. “mwah!” he plops down next to me, getting comfy under the blankets.

you adjust the hoodie a bit before leaning against the plush pillows. chan lifts up the two stuffies, placing them to your chest, wrapping your arm around them. you smile once again, rolling over to place a big kiss on his cheek.

once you settle back into the bed, they both wrap their arms around you, making you feel safe and secure. “good night bubba, we love you,” chan whispers in your ear before placing a loving kiss to your soft cheek. “so so much bunny.” binnie finishes, placing a kiss to your other cheek.

you melt right into their arms. you get comfortable, turning on your side to face binnie, laying your head on his chest, grabbing chan’s arm to stay around you. “i love you both too, more than you know.” you mumble, placing a kiss to bin’s pec and chan’s hand.

you all melt into each other, relaxing slowly as sleep welcomes you, the soft sounds of monsters inc playing as you all lay peacefully in each other’s arms.

[moonlight-records]

Christmas via letters| OP81 (HAC #10)

pairing: op81 x reader

summary: after you break your phone and waiting to buy a new one, you decide the only logical way to contact your boyfriend is via letter for the holiday season.

warning: fluff!

fc: none!

wc: ??

a/n: I FINALLY CAUGHT UP!!! day 10 of moonlight records holiday advent calendar!

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | day 8 | day 9 | current day | day 11

My dearest Oscar,

Oh my dear, Oscar, I do hope this letter finds you well. How these are very troubling times we have entered. I write this letter to you in the darkest of nights as slumber is near impossible. With you thousands of kilometers away my bed is so terribly big and empty and I am so terribly cold when I’m not in your embrace. Oh how I long for your embrace and to see your handsome face again.

Seriously though, hi babe! Did you like that opening? I hope so because that opening put a LOT of brain cells to work and we both know that I typically never have the brain cells. Now, you’re probably wondering why the hell am I sending you a letter when we can text or video call even though you barely answer your mom or me though since you’re always napping or flirting with Lando or Logan but I’m letting that go right now.

I am so glad you asked because my phone is…broken!! Isn’t that SO fun?! Before you ask, I am already one step ahead of you. Imagine it: a cold, bitter, and rainy Tuesday morning. I’m heading to class. Am I running late to class? Yes. Was it because I got myself a sweet treat? I am just a girl babe, just a girl. Anyway, I am making up for a great time and I will be early to my 8:30 class. Well, about that. I’m looking at my phone and I trip over my feet. Phone goes into a pothole puddle and is completely ruined so I have to wait till my next paycheck to buy a new one while trading in my old phone to get like a piss poor discount off my new phone.

I think I sent you a message on Instagram and TikTok from my laptop about it. I forgot that you aren’t on social media often like me which is very valid so I decided to send you a letter! Besides, I’ve always wanted to write Christmas letters but nobody I know wants to write letters anymore so you, my most loyal subject, are going to write Christmas letters with me! If you want, that is but I hope you do! Unless you want to be on social media to talk to your totally amazing, beautiful, funny girlfriend because I would not complain about that. Maybe you’d finally look at all those super funny cat memes I keep sending you! Well, hope to hear from you soon love

With much love,  Y/N

My sweetest Y/N, 

I will not be talking in the 19th century. I don’t think I can do justice compared to you but I can confirm that this letter has found me well and I will cherish it deeply.

Listen babe, you knew that when you decided to accept the first date you gained a very sleepy and polite cat from what the fans are deeming me. This should not be a surprise to you or my mom. Though I am not ignoring your text messages to flirt with Lando! Babe, how could you ever think that I would do such a thing? Lando is just a dork that needs constant supervision. Now Logan, on the other hand…babe that is my emotional support American. Are you telling me I CAN’T flirt with my emotional support American? Come on Y/N, you should’ve known that when you said yes to being my girlfriend that it was me AND Logan. We are obviously a package deal.

You dropped your phone in a pothole puddle? That’s…disgusting oh my god. I actually almost gagged at the thought of you reaching into the puddle to grab your phone. No wonder why my phone hasn’t been blowing up as much, babe I am so sorry. Both about your phone being ruined but also for my lack of checking in. Honestly I’ve just been recharging socially to answer emails and stuff. It’s taking much longer since you’re not here to cuddle me…still not an excuse. I wanna emphasize that I’m not excusing my lack of check in for the past few days. Promise to get better on that.

You know what, when you get your new phone, I will not only have opened all your wonderful videos but I’ll even send some back. Just you watch. Though in the meantime since you do want to send letters this holiday season, I guess we can so, do you have anything fun planned for the holiday season?

Sincerely, Oscar Piastri

Dear Oscar,

You answered!! Oh my god, baby you don’t know how excited I am for this. Also god, please do not remind me about the puddle. The thought still makes me shudder and gag. Though babe, you know me. I am not upset at all with you not answering all the time because it doesn’t really upset me. You know that because I know that you answer when I really need you to, which is like once in a blue moon. Like when I got the flat that one time and you so graciously got me an uber home. That was like what? Three months ago? Besides that, babe, show me a sign of life and I’m content for the day. Though are you admitting that Logan gets more attention than me? I might have to find our dating contract and revise that I get equal amount sir sleepy Piastri. But you’ll send me silly Tiktoks?! Oh Oscar, if you want to marry me, you should just ask me but this is so much better.

Oh! I don’t know. I’m helping mom this weekend decorate since it’s going to be the warmest weekend to handle the outside decorations. I’m going to attempt to help with the inside decorations since mom got grandpa’s Christmas village since we finally cleaned his house out. After that I’m kind of going with the flow, you know? Though mom has trusted me to do all the online shopping this year AKA she sends me screenshots and then tells me to order it with her credit card and hoard everything in my room, so. Eventually I will sit down one day and attempt to wrap though mom will probably redo it.

I know one day my friends want to go ice skating and see Wicked again. Now I am all for seeing Wicked again but ice skating? Babe, I fear if we go ice skating that you’ll get a call from me with all of us in the hospital. We can barely stand on our own two feet on a regular day and I know you’ve seen us. You know how clumsy my friends and I are but ‘tis the season, I guess!

Oh! We’re hosting Christmas this year, which will be very interesting. I mean, we got the space for sure but now that means fighting my cousin’s off so they don’t steal my plushies. Gotta defend ‘Mr. Artbag’ and ‘Sir Giggles’ you know? Do you have any plans for this upcoming holiday season?

Waiting for these cat memes, Y/N

To my darling Y/N,

Oh my dearest Y/N, the thing about our dating contract is that it has sadly ended up with me back in Australia so you cannot have it. Though I am willing to revise the contract to make sure you get an equal amount of attention as Logan, though I need something in exchange. Luckily, I have found the contract and as I review our agreement, I think if I give you an equal amount of attention, you have to let me buy you one thing you want every month. Would you be willing to agree to those terms? I’ll throw in 5 cat memes a week free of charge.

Oh that’ll be fun. My sisters wanted to go shopping and since I haven’t seen them I decided to go with them. I really became the bag holder though I wasn’t that upset because I did manage to find some of your Christmas gifts and actually get them with the assistant of my sisters. AKA they asked me what I was looking for and they found it by some miracle. I wish I had that special touch to find things I need–like mothers do you know? Anyway, besides that I don’t know. Mom’s almost done decorating and dad got the tree since ours sadly broke (we’ve had it for almost 10 years, we needed a new one) and they already decorated the tree. Though I might take Rosie and Basil out to grab some gifts.

Wait, you guys are going ice skating? Well, surprise, I’m actually coming out to visit for a bit. Logan and Lando want to hang out before Logan heads back to the states for the holidays so if you guys could try to schedule that about two weeks later when I’m around, I would love to go with you guys, though I would ask if Lando and Logan could possibly join? I have no issue in becoming a personal ambulance, especially if Lando is going to go ice skating. Save us all.

What are you doing for New Years? If you’re not doing anything, mom and my sisters would love to have you over. They miss you and they’re going insane without you having a phone to text them life updates. To be honest, I also miss waking up to all your messages and memes and getting real time updates about your life. Can I buy you a phone? Please?

Hope you get your new phone soon, Oscar Piastri

To the polite sleepy cat,

I talked to my lawyer about this new agreement in our contract and we have agreed to the terms you are requesting. Though I am not exactly happy with the terms about buying me one gift a month but you promise to send 5 cat memes so it’s fine. Though I will say, I am okay with it just being 5 memes a week free of charge if you cannot find any good cat memes. As long as it is a meme of any sorts I will overlook the buying me something for once a month.

Though on a serious note, YOU’RE COMING TO VISIT?! Oh my god, babe this is the best news I have ever heard. Yeah of course! I already asked the group and they would love to have Logan and Lando join us with ice skating! We were planning on getting dinner after if that’s okay with you guys? We’re not sure where we want to go yet but I’m sure we all can figure something out when we all meet up! Also, yes I made sure I was all bundled up, I’m not that crazy! Besides, I want to be able to smooth my dear boyfriend before the season starts without getting him in trouble for starting the new season a bit under the weather. 

Ha! Jokes on you, I already ordered my phone. I’m just waiting for it to ship because of course it wasn’t in stock when I went to get it in person. You know me, I just need a simple phone so I was going to get the same one as before. Sadly, it seems that my phone has become popular because they sold out in person! Oscar, do you know how devastated I was to venture out on my weekend to find out it’s out of stock? Truly, a dark day for me but my phone should be here before this letter is sent out. Promise that I’ll send you all my funny memes to make up for these lost times.

 As of right now, I don’t think I’m doing anything for New Years. I don’t know what the group wants to do yet but I think they’re all spending the holiday with their significant others so I would love to stay with you and the Piastri family! Are you kidding me? How else am I supposed to see Rosie and Basil? 

Well, this is probably coming around the holiday so, merry Christmas my love.

You’re probably napping, Y/N

To the golden retriever,

Hopefully, this reaches you before I arrive. I’m glad to know that your lawyer agrees with these new terms. Do you accept memes via powerpoint presentations? I have taken some time out of my very very very busy schedule to compile a list of the top ten, not five but ten memes that I have seen this week that I believe you will enjoy. Most of them are from the same meme trending on TikTok but I think these stories are right up your alleyway along with some cat memes. 

I’m glad you were all bundled up. Not that I would personally care if I got sick if it meant getting my mandatory kisses and cuddles that I’ve been longing for. Any trouble is worth it if it’s so I can see you. I’ve spoken to Lando and Logan and they have agreed that planning for dinner would be the best. Lando has done his usual request of no fish please and thank you. Damn. I was hoping that you didn’t order it so that could’ve been the free gift of the month on top of your Christmas presents. Whatever. Buying you a book will be a great second option and you can’t yell at me!

Oh haha, very funny. I knew this was going to be an issue when I brought you home but I’ll let it go, only because that means you’ll give me extra cuddles later for feeling bad. Kidding, kidding, but seriously. I’m glad that you can come over for New Years. It’ll be fun and everyone will be glad to see you.

Also, I appreciate what you did with the lipstick on this letter. Y/N, you truly flatter me. You think so highly of me that you’ll give me a kiss through the letter? Oh, be still my beating heart. I hope you like my washi tape decorations. I know it’s not on the level of kissing a letter but I think for the first time, it’s great. I also hope you like the polaroid attached as well, if it stays attached. Mom is pretty proud at capturing my failure of trying to build a gingerbread house.

See you soon & at New Years Eve, Oscar Piastri

[alessiasfreckles]

amnesia - part 12 (ona batlle x alexia putellas x reader)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11

a/n: sorry for the long wait, not much left now!

--------

The next morning, when you looked on your doorstep, you half expected to find Alexia or Ona stood there waiting. Instead, you found the usual pastry and drink, and couldn’t help but feel the smallest tinge of disappointment. 

You’d been messaging both girls late into the night, about everything and anything, except for what had happened between the three of you. You knew you’d need to talk about it at some point, but for now, you just wanted things to be good. And so did they, by the looks of things. Accompanying the pastry and drink was a handwritten note from Ona, reading ‘Good morning chiqui! We hope you have a wonderful day today. Dinner is on us tonight x’. Interesting.

As you headed to your physio session, you tried to ignore the rising anticipation in your belly, the soft feeling of hope working its way through your body, eager to see the two women, but nervous as well. You didn’t even know if you would see them - there was a good chance they’d be outside for training, or in the gym, and so far all of your sessions had been in the smaller physiotherapy rooms.

When you arrived, the physiotherapist greeted you with an amused smile. 

“You have some admirers,” she noted, nodding towards a beautiful bouquet of flowers that was resting in a vase. You couldn’t help but blush, rolling your eyes fondly at the gesture, already knowing who was behind it. “Today we’re in the gym, but you can leave your things here and we can get them when we’re done.”

“The gym?” you asked, surprised.

The physiotherapist nodded. “Yes. You’re making very good progress - you really only have minimal injuries considering what you went through, and we can move you to the real gym now. You should be able to go back to training with the others soon, maybe in a month or so. The biggest problem is the muscle atrophy from being in the coma, but once we get your body back to where it was before, you’ll be good to go.”

Your mouth hung open in shock, and your face suddenly felt very warm as you realised that tears were gathering in the corners of your eyes. You hadn’t expected to be back so soon, and you couldn’t wait to be able to train with the others again, to get out there and play football, the thing you loved more than anything else in the world. 

As you walked to the gym, you wondered whether the rest of the team would also be in the gym or if they’d be outside. As you got closer, your question was answered - you could hear various sounds coming from the gym, shoes against treadmills, the thud of weights hitting the ground, but also the soft murmur of your teammates chatting, the occasional peal of laughter. That meant Ona and Alexia were probably there, too. 

You took a deep breath before pushing open the door, trying to steel your nerves. At first, when you walked through, no one batted an eyelid, all preoccupied with their own routines. But then Mapi looked up, and yelled out your name.

“You’re back!” she grinned, running over to you. You felt a twinge of guilt, remembering that the two of you had been good friends before the accident, and that you’d been so caught up in everything going on with Ona and Alexia that you’d forgotten about your friendships with the other players. Soon enough you were surrounded by your teammates, including the two you were most nervous about seeing. 

“I’m not back properly yet, but I’ve been promoted to physio in the gym, and I should be able to start training with you guys again in a month or so,” you told your teammates, blushing slightly at the attention you were getting. For some reason you couldn’t meet the two women’s eyes, too anxious about what you’d find there. The team let out cheers and whoops at your statement, people leaning over to ruffle your hair or give you hugs.

After a few minutes, the physiotherapist clapped her hands together. “Okay, okay, in order for her to be able to train with you again, she needs to get fit enough first, which she can only do if you all let her get on with her physio session in peace, okay?”

Your teammates chuckled and backed away. Only then did you look up at Ona and Alexia, who were watching you intently. Ona was biting her lip, a nervous frown etched into her forehead, whilst Alexia looked more stoic, trying hard not to let anyone see how desperate she had been to see you and how worried she was about you. When you met their eyes, you instantly felt calmer, the bundle of nerves in your stomach washed away and replaced by a soft pang of familiarity.

When you smiled at them, they both relaxed instantly, the line between Ona’s eyebrows melting away, Alexia’s eyes softening as she met yours. They smiled back, and you couldn’t help but think about how beautiful they both were, each in their own way.

As the physiotherapist went through your exercises your mind kept wandering, and you kept catching yourself looking over to where they were going through their workout, Alexia jogging on one of the treadmills, Ona over by the weights. Every so often they would look over at you and your eyes would meet, and you’d smile, blushing, and look away again quickly. It felt like having a crush for the first time.

You lingered when your session was over, reluctant to go so soon.

“Don’t forget, your things are in my office,” the physiotherapist reminded you with a knowing smile. “And don’t worry, we’ll be back tomorrow.”

At home, you put the bouquet in a vase, admiring the flowers. One looked slightly different to the others, but you couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Regardless, the bouquet was beautiful, and your stomach fluttered at the thought of the women buying you flowers. 

By the time evening rolled around, you were starting to get hungry, and you wondered what Ona had meant by her note this morning. Just as you thought about messaging her to ask, the doorbell rang, and you opened it to find a delivery person holding a paper bag emblazoned with the logo of a nearby restaurant. 

As you headed back inside your apartment, you took a quick picture of the bag and sent Ona a text.

[Y/N]: so this is what you meant with your note this morning :)

[Ona]: Yes!! 

Along with her message was a picture. You recognised the background as her kitchen, and on the counter was a paper bag just like yours, the restaurant logo on the side.

[Ona]: Ale got food too, so we’re all eating together but apart :) 

Warmth spread throughout your body, and you sent Alexia a quick message, sending her the same picture you’d sent Ona. As you opened the bag, your kitchen filled with the smell of food, and your stomach growled. You kept messaging both women as you ate, unable to deny the way your heart skipped a beat every time you received a new message from them, a smile glued to your face. By the time you fell into bed a few hours later, you’d exchanged hundreds of messages, and your cheeks hurt from smiling.

When you checked the front door the next morning, you were surprised to find a sweater next to the usual drink and pastry. Picking it up, you instantly recognised it as Ona’s, the one you would always borrow when you were at her place, the fabric soft between your fingers. You brought it up to your face and inhaled deeply, your lungs filling with the familiar scent of her perfume, and your mind filled with memories of the two of you.

You wore the sweater to your physio session, reluctant to take it off. When you arrived, the physio nodded over to the table again with a grin. “Another present for you.”

On the table was a protein shaker adorned with stickers of your teammates, and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Everyone had their own drinks tailored to their needs, and when you picked the shaker up you smiled as you realised they’d already filled it for you, a sticky note on the back telling you what was in it. You took the shaker into the gym with you, and when your teammates sidled in slowly, your eyes were on the door, waiting for Ona and Alexia to come through and see you using their gift.

When they did, their eyes scanned the gym, looking for you, and they immediately smiled when their eyes landed on you. You felt a rush at the sight of them and internally rolled your eyes at your behaviour - you were acting like a teenager with a crush rather than a grown woman. Still, you gave them a quick grin before going back to focusing on your therapy, and tried to ignore the way your heart had skipped a beat when they’d smiled at you.

[lupinsweater]

Already screaming crying kicking my legs and giggling, hope that appointment goes SO WELL babes omg x

thank you!! my husband is doing a ton better🤎 hope you enjoy this mini-drabble! it’s a little different but i had fun writing it!

part one part two part three part four

Teacher!James Potter x Single Mom!Reader 💌 890 words

♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡

EMAILS BETWEEN YOU AND JAMES

Subject: Thanks for Volunteering!

From: j.potter@godricshollowprimary.org

To: y/nandcharlie@gmail.com

Monday, 9:45 AM

Hi Y/N,

I just wanted to reach out and thank you again for helping with reading time on Friday. The kids loved hearing you read, and Charlie was so excited to have you there. I really appreciate you taking the time- I know how busy you are!

Hope it wasn’t too chaotic for you!

Take care,

James

ATTACHMENT: 1 IMAGE (a photo James took on his phone of you and Charlie- he’s holding It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! and grinning madly. You are crouched down so your cheek is pressed to his, and you have an arm around his side- your face is practically glowing with pride as you smile at the phone.)

————————————————————————

Subject: Re: Thanks for Volunteering!

From: y/nandcharlie@gmail.com

To: j.potter@godricshollowprimary.org

Monday, 12:37 PM

Hi James!

I actually had a blast with your class. The kids were all so sweet, and it was great to be able to see Charlie in the classroom. I’m glad the feeling was mutual! I’d love to volunteer again if you ever need the help. And no- it wasn’t too chaotic. In fact, I think you have those kids trained pretty well.

Thanks for the photo- it’s so sweet! Charlie looks so happy.

Best,

Y/N

————————————————————————

Subject: Random Thought

From: j.potter@godricshollowprimary.org

To: y/nandcharlie@gmail.com

Tuesday, 4:15 PM

Hey Y/N!

Okay, this is totally random, but I was just thinking about our conversation on Friday before the kids came back in from recess. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable buying those books for you to read- I really did need some new books for the classroom, and I figured I’d buy some that you would like since you were helping me out for the afternoon.

By the way, Charlie won’t stop talking about how awesome it was to have you read to the class. I was starting to think that I was catching up to you as his favorite adult, but I think I still have a long way to go ;)

James

————————————————————————

Subject: Re: Random Thought

From: y/nandcharlie@gmail.com

To: j.potter@godricshollowprimary.org

Tuesday, 5:02 PM

James,

Don’t even worry! I wasn’t uncomfortable at all- I actually thought it was so sweet and was definitely very flattered. Also, don’t kid yourself. We both know Sirius is his favorite adult, and he was only with him for about an hour. I think you might be a close second, though. We pretty much spend our evenings around here talking about how cool you are ;)

Also, please tell me you’re not still at the school that late. You need some time to yourself, too!

Y/N

————————————————————————

Subject: Coffee?

From: j.potter@godricshollowprimary.org

To: y/nandcharlie@gmail.com

Wednesday, 8:36 AM

Y/N,

Yesterday was a late day! I usually try to get out of there earlier and grade papers while I get a coffee. Speaking of which…there’s this great little cafe a couple of blocks away from the school. If you ever need a break, you should check it out! I’m there pretty often, so it would be great to grab a coffee with you sometime!

No pressure, just throwing it out there :)

Talk soon,

James

————————————————————————

Subject: Re: Coffee?

From: y/nandcharlie@gmail.com

To: j.potter@godricshollowprimary.org

Wednesday, 11:48 AM

James,

Glad to hear you don’t live at the school ;)

Are you asking me out? Because if you are…I just might say yes. Either way, I could definitely use some caffeine, so coffee sounds great.

Let me know what works for you! I’m off this Friday.

Y/N

————————————————————————

Subject: Re: Coffee?

From: j.potter@godricshollowprimary.org

To: y/nandcharlie@gmail.com

Wednesday, 11:50 AM

You caught me ;) I totally am asking you out. Friday would be great- the kids get out early that day, so if you can find a sitter for Charlie by then we could do 3? Also, just making sure you knew that the art night the school is throwing is Thursday!

Looking forward to seeing you!

James

————————————————————————

Subject: Re: Coffee?

From: y/nandcharlie@gmail.com

To: j.potter@godricshollowprimary.org

Wednesday, 11:52 AM

3 is perfect! Charlie and I will be at the art night Thursday for sure! And don’t worry about the sitter- I’ve got someone in mind already!

See you then :)

————————————————————————

TEXTS BETWEEN YOU AND LILY

Wednesday, 11:55 AM

You: Hey Lily! Any chance you’re free to babysit Charlie this Friday at like 2:45? James just asked me out for coffee, and I kinda said yes👀

Lily: OMG no way

Lily: James as in JAMES?

You: What other James do we know?

Lily: Fair

Lily: But YES of course I’ll watch Charlie!

Lily: I’m literally screaming rn🙌

You: You’re a lifesaver!!

You: Also, please don’t tell Charlie that’s where I’m going…

You: If things don’t work out I don’t want him to be disappointed :/

Lily: Of course!

Lily: I’m so excited for you omggg

Lily: Have so much fun! ❤️

————————————————————————

EMAILS BETWEEN YOU AND JAMES

Subject: Re: Coffee?

From: j.potter@godricshollowprimary.org

To: y/nandcharlie@gmail.com

Wednesday, 12:00 PM

I’ll see you on Friday, then xx

James

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Meeting The Real You (Chapter 11)

Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6 -- Chapter 7 -- Chapter 8 -- Chapter 9 -- Chapter 10 -- Chapter 11 -- Chapter 12

AO3 story link

word count: 19,900

_______________________________

“Still no luck figuring out what’s been eating at the kid, huh?”

Tony Stark stood in front of the mirror in the lavish master bathroom on the 96th floor, staring at his reflection while drowsily brushing his teeth. It was barely 6:30 in the morning, and Pepper had already gotten up, dressed, and left for work that day, whispering something about an early meeting with the recipients of a university grant they were sponsoring before kissing him on the cheek and hurrying out the door. He loved how committed she was to their company and her job; no one did more for the new mission of Stark Industries than she did. He just wished it didn’t mean waking up in an empty bed more monings than not. 

FRIDAY took an unusually long time to respond to his question. “Actually…” she said, a strange hesitancy in her Irish-accented voice. “I’m fairly certain I have figured out what’s been increasing his stress levels as of late. I’ve had a theory about its origin for about three days now.”

Stark spat into the sink and wiped his face with a scowl. “Three days? FRIDAY—did I or did I not ask you to report back to me as soon as you found out what was going on with him?”

“You did,” FRIDAY confirmed reluctantly. “However, I concluded that the information I discovered was, to my understanding…uniquely sensitive. It’s not the kind of thing I feel comfortable just telling you outright.”

Tony scoffed, towel-drying his hair. “What has gotten into you lately? Has Pete been messing with your programming or something? I know I designed you to be as opinionated and bullheaded as myself, but this is getting a little out of hand—borderline mutinous.” 

Stark’s creations had a lot of things in common with their creator: such as liking Peter more than Tony and frequently letting the kid’s desires outweigh their better judgment. The Avenger stole a glob of Pepper’s wildly expensive under eye cream and dabbed a little on the planes of his face where the lines were the most prominent; where they were beginning to look a tad deeper and darker than he remembered. “You do know I could just search through your logs and find out the truth for myself.”

“You could,” FRIDAY agreed. “But I believe you have more class than that. This is something you should ask Peter about in person, and only know if he feels comfortable enough to disclose it to you.”

Tony paused, considering the possibility that maybe he didn’t want to know what FRIDAY knew about the kid with the way she was being so cryptic about it. “Is he…in danger in any way?” he asked uneasily.

“No. I wouldn’t say so.”

“Does he have, like—a weird health thing he needs to go to a professional about?”

“No.”

“Does his aunt know about whatever this is?”

The A.I. was silent for a moment. “No. Not entirely, anyway.”

“Does she need to know about it entirely?”

“Not right now. But eventually, yes.”

Stark puffed out his cheeks in frustration. “Could you at least give me a hint about what I’m dealing with here? Teenage superhero babysitting is an art I’m still learning to navigate, and not something I ever imagined myself being implicated in prior to that pantyhose-wearing spider-baby web-swinging his way into my life.” He smoothed some gel into his salt and pepper locks. “Just tell me as much as May knows. I need some context to understand what the hell I should even be asking him about.”

FRIDAY considered this. “Very well,” she conceded. “The thing I believe is worrying him so much is that he’s developed a crush on someone.”

Immediately, the billionaire perked up. “Really?” he said. “A crush? That’s what all this angst and drama has been about? The way you were talking about it, I thought he might be purchasing strippers with my credit card, or—I don’t know. Shooting heroin?”

“He’s sixteen, boss. Having a crush is one of the most angsty and dramatic things sixteen-year-olds go through.” She paused. “Well. Normal sixteen-year-olds, anyway.”

“Right.” Which Peter was anything but. Still, it was nice to know Pete wasn’t so far removed from kids his age that he wasn’t going through the same formative experiences teenagers were supposed to have. Stark studied himself in the mirror, teasing his facial hair into a more stylish shape. “Well then. This is certainly an exciting development. Who’s the kiddo crushing on? Anybody I know?”

“I’m afraid that’s all the information I can give you,” the A.I. stated firmly. Tony let out a long sigh. 

“Very well.” He slipped on a sports coat over his T-shirt and dabbed his wrists with a splash of Cairon Poivre. “Where’s the little lovebird now? Is it a good time for me to approach him about this? Should I even approach him about this? What do I say to him? Chill the fuck out? Make a move? Back off? What’s the end goal here? Am I even qualified to be giving him advice on this sort of thing?” 

Whether either of them liked it or not, Tony Stark was, at present, the closest thing Peter had to a father figure. That didn’t mean he was any good at it—especially when it came to situations and subjects the two of them had yet to broach. Tony had jokingly questioned Peter about his romantic life in the past, shooting the breeze while the pair tinkered away the hours in his lab, but the kid had always brushed him off, timidly insisting he had zero time for that sort of thing. 

Stark wondered what had changed since then. Who was it the kid found so darn dreamy, his shy little heart had no choice but to break its hiatus and worry itself sick with incessant teenage pining?

“It’s not even seven yet, boss,” FRIDAY said amusedly. “Peter is still asleep.”

Tony deflated with a slow breath out. “Oh. Right.”

“But I’ll let you know when he’s awake and ready for company,” she continued. “If you do decide to talk to him, I wouldn’t press him too hard for details or inundate him with advice. What I think Peter needs most right now is just…” the A.I. hummed thoughtfully. “A little encouragement. You know—support and reassurance from someone he admires and trusts.”

Stark cracked a smile. “So we’re in favor of Pete’s mystery crush, then? We want them to end up together? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” FRIDAY admitted. “I already know for certain that the person he likes likes him back.”

Tony’s jaw dropped. “FRIDAY! You conniving little fiend! Just how much of your compute power are you funneling towards playing matchmaker with my intern?”

The A.I. ran a few rapid calculations in silence. “No comment,” she answered shrewdly. 

Chuckling, Stark strode out of the bathroom into he and Pepper’s bedroom. “Well, ping me when the kid’s conscious and available. I’m eager to play my part in your Machiavellian plot to win Pete a hot date.” After lacing up his shoes, Tony stood and scratched his beard. “Speaking of, is May up yet? I’d be interested in getting her perspective on all of this.”

“How should I know? I don’t monitor the sleep schedules of people outside this tower. That’d be creepy.”

The Avenger rolled his eyes. “I didn’t—whatever. I’ll just call her.” Stark pulled out his phone and tapped Mrs. Parker’s contact photo, which was 3rd from the top on his speed dial list. Only Pepper and Happy eclipsed her in priority. He was pleasantly surprised when she picked up.

“Good morning, May. Sorry for calling you so early. Yes, Pete’s fine. I took his stitches out yesterday. With the speed his body heals, he’ll probably come out the other side of this without so much as a scar.”

Tony stepped out of the bedroom into the rotunda with a monstrous yawn, his sights set on the 98th story’s commercial grade espresso machine. 

“So, quick question. Has Peter mentioned anything to you about having a crush on someone…?”

_______________________________

Sleep took its time prying its claws from Peter’s mind. He woke slowly, hazily, vision shifting in and out of focus, thoughts struggling to take shape. Something heavy and warm was laying on top of him. It felt like some kind of weighted blanket with a built-in heater. He was so cozy and comfortable, it was hard to convince his brain to come to. 

What finally dragged his stubborn body to consciousness was the sour taste in his mouth. He must’ve fallen asleep without brushing his teeth. Now that he mentioned it, Peter couldn’t remember putting himself to bed last night. As he ran his tacky tongue over his incisors, realizing the room around him was not, in fact, his bedroom, Peter reached up to rub his eyes but hit hard glass instead. Still wearing my mask, his brain recognized sluggishly. Great. His worst breakouts always happened after falling asleep with it on. He must’ve passed out on the couch by accident while binging Love Island with Johnny Storm. 

Peter stiffened. His attention returned to that warm weight lying on top of him from his chest all the way down to his feet (which also had his left arm pinned against the sofa cushions). He craned his neck to find a head-full of strawberry blonde hair resting against his sternum and two muscular arms wrapped snugly around his waist, hugging his midsection like a giant teddy bear. 

The vigilante’s blood went red-hot beneath his skin. Suddenly, he was wide awake. Johnny had his whole self draped across Peter’s narrow frame and was spooning him like a Spidey-sized body pillow. Peter had no idea how the two of them had wound up in this position—or whether this was something Johnny had done on purpose, or by accident. Did he intentionally cuddle up to him like this sometime in the night? Or was it normal for him to wake up with all his limbs coiled unknowingly around the closest object in his proximity? The sleeping celebrity’s heartbeat thumped a lazy rhythm against his own—which was upping its pace faster and faster by the second. 

He was just…so pretty. Golden shafts of particle-flecked light speared through Johnny’s hair from the tall, shuttered windows, gilding every strand in resplendent halos. His near-invisible eyelashes glowed like dove feathers at the break of dawn. Tiny, perfect freckles flecked his tranquil face, adorning his nose, his eyelids, his lips, his chin—even the delicate shells of both of his ears. He looked like a painting come to life, a poem in flesh and blood, a sacred hymn of rose-flushed cheeks and angel-soft skin. Peter swooned at the thought of running his fingers through that ruffled wave of sun-kissed locks, but didn’t dare touch him while he slept. That would be wrong. Especially since he still hadn’t mastered the courage to confess his feelings to him yet. Until he had the balls to do that much, Peter didn’t deserve to even think about things like that. 

Unfortunately, it was hard for Peter to think about much else while the beautiful superhero snoozed peacefully on top of him, arms wound tight to his torso, breaths slow and soft. It was also difficult for Peter to, y’know—move without potentially disturbing him. Spider-Man gazed around the room as much as his limited range of motion allowed, sudden nervousness gripping him at the thought of being discovered in his current state. How the hell would he explain this? He spotted his phone on the ground a few feet away from the couch and managed to angle his wrist towards it, firing a line of spider’s silk at the device and whipping it into his free hand. The battery was nearly dead since he hadn’t charged it overnight, but he could use up what little juice remained while he figured out what to do about the warm lump of teenager he was presently trapped under. 

Johnny had somehow gotten both the spit take video and the prank video edited and posted before daybreak. According to the time stamps, both videos were published on all his social media platforms between 4 and 5am. He hadn’t posted any of the footage of when Johnny had interrogated Peter as they were cleaning up the lab just yet, but churning the other two videos out that fast was a miracle in itself. 

No wonder the Human Torch was sprawled across him, practically comatose. Peter doubted he’d slept more than a few hours last night. Maybe Spider-Man really was a bad influence on him—at least, on his normally methodic sleep schedule. 

The videos—embarrassing as they were—were entertaining enough and very well edited. Johnny certainly had a gift for comedic timing: punching in on each of their faces every time one of them spat water across the room, adding in silly little audio bites of popular sound effects to punctuate different moments, replaying their teammates getting shot with glitter paint over and over again in slow motion. Peter found himself stifling a giggle every now and then as he let the videos run, making sure to keep the sound on the lowest setting. 

Near the end of the spit take video, Peter opened up the comments to avoid having to watch himself be shoved against the wall by the Human Torch, blood rushing to his cheeks. But when he started scrolling through what people had been writing on the post, the heat in his face blazed tenfold. 

so…johnny’s 100% into spider-man. is anyone else getting that vibe or…?

The way Spider-Man is making Johnny giggle SO much im?? 😭 Losing my mind??

do you think spiderman knows how badly johnny wants him 

✨THEY’RE IN LOVE YOUR HONOR✨

Oh they’ve explored each others bodies for sure

i did not have “shipping spider-man and johnny storm” on my bingo card for this year, but here we are 💁🏽‍♀️

I wonder if johnny knows who spidey is?? He has to know right?

this video alone may or may not have turned me from a spidey hater to a fan

God i hope spiderman isn’t too old to date johnny cuz they’d be SO cute together

The way he pinned him to the wall 😳 screaming crying throwing up

oh i knowww spidey is blushingggg behind that mask fr 

my god just KISS ALREADY

Before he could stress-read a single more line, the screen winked to black before his eyes. His phone had officially died. Slowly, Peter’s arm fell limp at his side, the device slipping from his fingers onto the floor, heart on a pendulum as he gaped at the ceiling. 

Okay…don’t panic, he told himself, panicking. On one hand, it was great to have his suspicions of Johnny’s feelings for him validated. Even if Johnny’s fans were being…a bit too enthusiastic about it (to an arguably feral and inappropriate degree), at least they were picking up on all the same signs Peter was. 

Peter was not, however, in any way ready for the world to know about Spider-Man’s sexual identity. He wasn’t sure he ever would be. The fact that people were openly discussing it and debating it before he’d even had a full week to digest it himself set his teeth on his edge and his skin crawling. Eventually, of course, Peter did plan to come out to those closest to him—but on his own terms, on his own time table, as Peter Parker, not Spider-Man, and only to the individuals in his life he deemed worthy of knowing. No one else. 

Johnny Storm deserved the same. Even if he was queer, and did perhaps exhibit more obvious indicators of that fact than Spider-Man did, that shouldn’t mean everyone gets free rein to make invasive comments and assumptions about his private life. As far as Peter was aware, Johnny had never disclosed his sexual orientation to the public, nor should he have to if that’s not what he wanted. Despite Johnny’s rather laissez-faire approach to how accessible he was to his fans, Peter felt protective of his right to privacy. 

It took Peter a few minutes of stewing to conclude it wasn’t necessarily people making assumptions about his and Johnny’s relationship that rubbed him the wrong way. People made far worse assumptions about him all the time. What bothered him was that the assumptions being made about him now were true—or rather, dangerously close to the truth. He knew working on his image with Johnny would mean revealing more of his real self to the public. He just didn’t expect the public to tear through his defenses so fast, ripping open his cloistered heart for all to see. 

In exchange for their trust and support, Peter was game to share pieces of himself with the people and world he was sworn to protect. But not this. Anything but this. Spider-Man’s crush on Johnny was never supposed to be part of this transaction. For now, that was between him and the Human Torch. Even if it seemed like most people were saying Johnny was the one with the crush, not Spider-Man, he still felt exposed, like a politician splitting their pants on live television. 

Peter took a moment to breathe. People do this to celebrities all the time, he reminded himself. Anyone they’re seen hanging out with for more than five minutes is automatically assumed to be their latest fling. And it wasn’t like everyone on the internet was drawing the same conclusions the fans on that post were. That was a very small, chronically-online faction of the public. They were probably the same nutjobs over-analyzing any and all interviews the Avengers did, insisting that every fleeting glance Natasha Romanoff shared with Hawkeye absolutely meant they were sleeping together, or the way Stark bumped shoulders with Dr. Banner whenever they stood side-by-side proved they were engaged in a sloppy secret romance. According to those people, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes weren’t just a group of highly skilled individuals dedicated to public service, but also a bunch of sex addicts in one big polyamorous super orgy.

Peter made a face at the unsightly image that train of thought had led him to. Point is, you’re fine, he told himself, letting his eyes slip shut behind his mask. Only when the Daily Bugle starts posting puff pieces about you and Johnny potentially being a thing are you allowed to freak out. For now, the general public isn’t going to see you two as anything other than friends.

Besides. None of this would really matter, anyway. Not until he cut the bullshit and finally told the Human Torch how he felt about him. Not until he learned what Spider-Man truly meant to the teenage heartthrob. Not until Johnny confirmed he liked him in the way Peter and all those crackpot commentators hoped. Not until Peter knew for sure if there was any chance of them pursuing something beyond a friendship.

A small grunt came from Johnny as the sleepy hero shifted positions, his head still resting on Peter’s chest but his arms loosening their grip on Peter’s torso. Peter scanned the room again with an anxious sweep of his gaze. One thing was for certain: Spider-Man would never escape the allegations circling their relationship if he was caught with Johnny Storm cuddling him like a baby koala. Plus, his left arm was starting to go numb. As much as he’d love to lie here, swaddled in the soporific tincture of Johnny’s supernatural warmth and dangerously sweet scent, Spider-Man needed to get up. 

It took all of Peter’s superhuman strength, flexibility, and stealth to maneuver himself out from under Johnny without jostling the celebrity awake. Johnny twitched and murmured as Peter lifted his weight off his chest then gently lowered the teen back onto the couch, but thankfully, never fully stirred. Once he was splayed across the plush cushions sans his cuddle buddy, the Human Torch curled into a ball and resumed his quiet snoring. 

Exhaling in relief, Peter leveled a smile upon Johnny’s delicate, slumbering form. He readjusted the blanket so it was covering the sleepy hero’s feet, then tip-toed into the kitchen, shaking out the pins and needles tingling across his left arm. 

How do we wanna do this? Peter asked himself, leaning over the sink with his back to the Human Torch. Should I go old-fashioned, buy him some flowers and a box of chocolates? Is that something people normally do? Or just on Valentine’s Day? Would it be too much? Too little? Do boys even do things like that for each other? Either way, Johnny’s tastes were probably out of his price range, anyhow. He doubted a wilted bouquet from that crabby vendor on 23rd Street paired with drug store chocolate dipped in lead poisoning and child slavery would impress him. 

Peter shot a glance over his shoulder to double check that the celebrity was still sleeping, then slipped the Spider-Man mask off his face, grateful there wasn’t a mirror around to show him just how bedraggled he looked. He laid the mask on the counter to his right and flipped the sink faucet on, cupping his hands beneath the icy stream. 

Okay, no flowers, he decided defeatedly. He splashed his face with cold water, scrubbing his hands over his eyes and forehead. Maybe no gifts at all. You didn’t do any gifts for Liz—you just came right out and said it. “I like you.” And hey, that worked out just fine. Minus her dad trying to bury you under a building and tear you limb-from-limb and all. Why can’t you do the same thing now? Why is this so much harder and scarier?

Johnny’s sister coming after him with a bloodlust equal to the Vulture’s wasn’t the thing holding him back—despite that being a very real possibility. What all of it really boiled down to, Peter couldn’t quite pinpoint. It was a whole interconnected, messy web of things. Cowardice and insecurity, embarrassment and uncertainty—perhaps even a smidge of internalized homophobia, which only made him more ashamed and self-conscious about it all. Peter sipped from the faucet, sloshed the water around in his mouth for a bit, then spat. It wasn’t enough to wash the acrid taste from his tongue. 

You just gotta do it, he told himself, glaring at the water trickling down the drain. You just gotta say it. Come on, Peter. Come on, Spider-Man. Quit being such a little bitch. All it takes is three words. Three little words. Just walk up to him, look him in the eye, open that big, dumb mouth of yours, and say—

“Your hair’s curly.”

Peter’s body went rigid, spine pin-straight. His fingers clamped around the lip of the sink as an exaggerated yawn sounded from behind him. 

“It’s pretty,” Johnny continued, voice slurred with drowsiness. “I haven’t seen it ‘til now.”

Stiff as a board, Peter groped blindly for his mask, not daring to move his head an inch. It took his hand a few frantic passes to come in contact with the familiar fabric. He snatched the mask off the counter and immediately pulled it over his face, relief splintering through him once it was back in place. Spider-Man forced his muscles to soften, then turned towards his friend.

“Sorry, I was—I, er…thought you were still asleep.” The words tumbled out of him in a stuttery, pathetic tangle, making his cheeks burn against the inside of his mask. He crossed his arms, uncrossed them, leaned against the counter, then stood back upright, fists taut at his sides, suddenly forgetting how to stand normally.

Johnny laid exactly where he’d left him: bundled beneath the blanket like a strawberry-blonde cherub, curled against the backrest of the crushed velvet sofa, except now his eyes were open. Exhaustion weighed on his features as he blinked at him slowly. 

“I didn’t see your face, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Johnny reassured him groggily. “And I doubt I could figure out who you are just from seeing the back of your head. I’m not that smart.”

Peter's shoulders relaxed a little. He was grateful Johnny hadn’t pressed the subject of his secret identity much since they’d become friends. Part of him wondered if it was because he understood how much it meant to Peter to keep his superhero life separate from his civilian life. Another part of him wondered if it was because Johnny preferred not knowing what he looked like. Perhaps the Human Torch only tolerated his presence because of the unique mystery and intrigue his mask imbued him with. With his appearance hidden, Johnny could imagine Spidey as whoever or whatever he most desired. A model, a movie star, a prince, a god—someone so perfect and elegant, lambent with beauty devastating enough to finally match his own, Peter Parker could never measure up. Once Spider-Man’s true face was revealed, Johnny would see him for who he really was: another boring, unremarkable nobody, indistinguishable from the millions of others who fawned over the celebrity heartthrob 24/7. A bland-looking loser unworthy of wasting another second of his time. 

“Did both of us fall asleep out here last night?” Johnny asked, kneading his knuckles into his eyes. “Ugh. That’s not like me at all. I have a very strict bedtime routine I normally can’t sleep without.”

A shrewd smile tugged at Peter’s lips. “Does part of that routine involve some kind of toy or pillow you wrap your entire body around and half-strangle all night?” Just because he was being sucked out to sea by his dull appearance and crippling self-loathing didn’t mean Johnny had to know about it. 

Johnny lifted his gaze to Peter’s, a touch of scarlet blooming in his cheeks, riveting Peter’s heart with spellbinding affection. “How do you know about that?” he asked, baffled. Then he scowled at the couch. “Wait…” A couple seconds passed, and his eyes widened, a tiny plume of smoke billowing off his scalp. “Oh my god. Did I…?” 

“Use me as your own personal body pillow last night?” Peter finished for him with a laugh. “Yeah. Pretty much. At least while you were actually sleeping, rather than editing TikTok videos until 5 in the morning.”

The Human Torch’s blush darkened in unison with the smoke spilling from the top of his head. The celebrity let out an incredulous groan, clamping a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he giggled helplessly. “You should’ve woken me up or shoved me off. Unconscious me is very clingy for some reason. It’s why I always sleep with my Puffy.”

Peter fought back a snort. “Your…Puffy?” he repeated back, monumentally intrigued. Johnny sighed, freckled skin tinted pink in the soft, spooling sunshine.

“Yes, my Puffy. I named him when I was four, so you can shut the fuck up about it.”

Peter’s grin stretched so wide it hurt. “And who or what, might I ask, is this so-called ‘Puffy’?” Out of the hours and hours of endless Johnny Storm content Peter had consumed online, he’d never heard anything about this.

Johnny wrapped the blanket around his head to smother the smoke still rising from his hair, transforming himself into a grouchy, sleep-deprived babushka. “If you must know,” he grumbled, holding his chin high with his arms crossed against his chest, “Puffy is a stuffed toy in the shape of an airplane that Sue crocheted for me when I was a kid. He was Sue’s gift to me for my fourth birthday, and I’ve had him ever since.”

Peter busted into a laugh before he could stop himself. “Really? An airplane? That’s ridiculously cute, but—why an airplane?”

“Because I like airplanes!” Johnny snapped defensively. “I’ve always liked airplanes! I’ve been studying aircraft models since before I could read! It’s why I went and got my pilot’s license the moment I turned sixteen, and why Sue and Reed actually trusted me to be Ben’s co-pilot for our space mission despite my age. If there’s one thing I’m a bigger nerd for than you are, it’s operating complex machines built for precision and speed.”

Peter had to remind himself that beyond being ridiculously hot, rich, powerful, and famous, Johnny Storm was also an accomplished auto mechanic and teen prodigy in both stratospheric jet piloting and space flight. Johnny had briefly discussed his background with cars and planes to the press in the past, but hadn’t spoken a word about it to Peter until now, which was unusually modest of him. The fact remained that he was a genius in ways Peter never would be—cooler, dreamier, more romantic ways. Spider-Man blinked at Johnny, startled by how much more attractive he suddenly found him.

“Sometimes I forget beneath all that hyaluronic acid and vitamin c serum and organic hair mousse, you’re actually, like—super smart,” Peter mused. “I mean, building cars and flying spaceships? Those are some pretty remarkable accomplishments if you ask me. I can’t believe I’m suggesting you brag about yourself even more than you already do, but…I feel like you don’t talk about that side of Johnny Storm as much as everything else.” 

Johnny frowned, worrying the edge of the blanket between his fingers. “None of it really measures up to what my sister has achieved with her freakish science brain,” he explained quietly. “Fans and media outlets already get their genius Storm fix from Sue, so they come to me for other stuff. Music videos and fashion shows and modeling and skincare hacks.” He shrugged. “Which I get. Gotta avoid redundancy. And it’s best to play into our biggest strengths for the sake of the team’s brand.” The Human Torch gnawed his inner lip. “Besides…after what happened with the space mission, I don’t like talking about that stuff anyway.”

Peter studied Johnny’s troubled expression bemusedly. Have I finally found it? he thought to himself. Something Johnny Storm might actually be insecure about? His first instinct was to poke fun at him for it, but the remorseful look on Johnny’s face made Peter rethink his approach. He returned to Johnny’s side, plopping next to him on the couch. 

“Why? What does that have to do with your cars and planes expertise?”

“Because it was my first time piloting a real spacecraft out of earth’s atmosphere, and I totally blew it,” he said, unable to meet Peter’s gaze. “While Ben was placing the sample collectors on the outside of the spaceship, I was in charge of piloting the craft until he returned. It was a routine procedure he and I had practiced a hundred times together. I did everything perfectly every time except the one day it actually mattered. When the alarms started blaring and I saw the dust cloud barreling towards our shuttle, I panicked.”

Peter recognized the dark haze muddying Johnny’s eyes. He’d seen eyes heavy with those same bitter storm clouds stare back at himself in the months following the murder of his uncle. They were the eyes of someone who knew they could’ve done more, but hadn’t. The eyes of someone plagued by a single moment in their past that was still hollowing them out with guilt and regret to this day. Eyes that would carry the weight of their owner's failure for the rest of their lives. 

“I turned the ship when I should’ve just held steady. The movement threw off Ben’s course as he was making his approach back to the entry hatch. It took him an extra seven seconds to get back on board, which meant there wasn’t enough time to close the blast doors before the space dust hit. If I’d just kept our goddamn position like I was supposed to, maybe we all could’ve escaped the mission unscathed.” He shut his eyes, hanging his head low. “I did exactly what everyone feared I would do. I fucked everything up.”  

Tears started slipping down Johnny Storm’s cheeks. Despite Peter’s increased exposure to it, the Human Torch’s tumultuous emotional state continued to both rattle and amuse him. The way he could flip from warm to teasing to embarrassed to tearful within minutes was a bit disorienting, yet painfully endearing. 

“Johnny…” Peter said through a halfhearted smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. We talked about this. You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened that day. The whole thing was one seriously insane accident. And even if the cosmic radiation hitting everyone was partially your fault, you’re all superheroes now because of it.” He brushed his fingers along Johnny’s back in gentle, hesitant circles. “Why are you still beating yourself up about this?”

“Because Ben got turned into a freak because of me,” Johnny snapped, swiping his palms under his red-rimmed eyes. “His wife left him, took full custody of their kids, and refuses to let him see them. He lost everything because of what that radiation did to him, and I know he blames me for it.”

His words poked holes in Peter’s heart like tiny, colorful push pins. Ben and Johnny butted heads a lot, sure. But for Ben to actually hold a grudge that serious against Johnny? Peter couldn’t imagine it being true. “Johnny—” he started to say. 

“Reed can’t hide how much he pities me. I know he can see how much guilt I feel after failing to follow through on the one responsibility he convinced everyone to entrust me with, which is somehow worse than him hating me. And Sue…” Johnny sniffled, voice caving in with grief. “Sue hasn’t been the same since that day. She isn’t the sister I remember anymore. That space dust…changed her somehow. Changed us. Everything’s changed since I turned that fucking ship.”

Peter didn’t know what else to do other than continue running his palm up and down the Human Torch’s back, trying to offer some kind of comfort to the anguished teen. But as Johnny’s lamenting went on, Peter snatched his hand back with a small yelp. Blue-tinted flames suddenly lapped off the teen’s shoulders, singeing the tip of Spider-Man’s index finger. Johnny buried his face in his hands, seemingly unaware of the wildfire currently engulfing his upper body. 

“After the accident that killed my mom, I forced myself to learn exactly how every part of a car worked. I spent four summers in a row working in my dad’s old auto shop, taking apart different kinds of cars and putting them back together again. When Sue first mentioned the mission she and Reed were planning to me, I rededicated myself to studying air and spacecraft instead. I spent months preparing for my pilot’s exam and begging them to let me come so I could make sure everything and everybody was safe. I did all of it so I could understand how to prevent her from meeting the same fate as—as Mom. I just…wanted to protect everyone. In the only way I knew how.” Johnny balled his hands against his eyes, digging his fists deep into the sockets. “Instead, I was the one who nearly killed everyone and wound up upending all our lives.”

One would think with all the money and fame and notoriety and pearly-smiled photoshoots the Fantastic Four boasted after gaining their powers that the quartet of superheroes adored their new lives. The truth of the matter was clearly much more complicated than any of the headlines or Buzzfeed interviews made it out to be. It diced Peter up inside to think of Johnny blaming himself for all the struggles his teammates had faced post-mission, even if they were completely out of his control, or how much the loss of his mother continued to weigh on him to this day. It cut even deeper realizing how much he could relate—recognizing his own guilt and regret reflected back at him in the tears staining Johnny’s cheeks. 

“I know this isn’t the best time for me to be saying this,” Peter interceded reluctantly, leaning away from the sweltering inferno. “But…you’re sort of setting the couch on fire.”

Johnny’s hands immediately dropped from his face. “What? I’m—oh, shit—!” He flew to his feet, the blue hues in his flames flaring back to red. “Dammit! And then there’s—fucking this! Me destroying everything I touch all the goddamn time! Ugh! Do you know how infuriating this gets? I can’t do or feel anything without burning down everything around me!”

Peter winced back as a wave of heat and cinders blasted towards him. A gasp shuddered out of Johnny at the sight, and he banished the flames from his body as swiftly as he could. Ringlets of smoke continued to eddy from his shoulders and hair. Tears mottled his dark blue eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Johnny croaked out. “I usually—I can control myself better than that. I have to. I don’t know why this set me off so much. I just…” He dragged both his hands through his scalp. “I hate how angry these powers have made me, and how much worse the consequences are if I wind up losing my cool. I miss being able to scream and cry and get my feelings out without bursting into flame and torching what I can only assume is a four million dollar couch.”

Peter spared a glance at the blackened cushions. “Could’ve been worse. Pretty sure the couch on the penthouse floor is worth five million.”

Johnny’s lips twitched into a weak smile, but Spider-Man could tell he was still fighting back tears. Peter approached him slowly, watching the smoke spill off the celebrity’s body and dance across the ceiling. 

“Your teammates love you, Johnny. Anyone with eyes and a half-functioning brain can see that. Whatever anger or pity or whatever else you think they might feel towards you because of that day, I promise their love for you outweighs it a hundred times over.” 

Johnny just stood there with his arms hugged against his ribs and his eyes downcast, smoke and tears pouring from him in long, silent streams. Peter couldn’t bear to see him look so hurt. Without thinking, he lifted his hands to cup Johnny’s face on either side, brushing away his tears with thumbs. 

“You’re more than your mistakes, Johnny. So much more. I need you to understand that. Okay?”

A few seconds passed before Johnny lifted his eyes to meet his, and Peter feared for a moment that he might be the one to spontaneously combust. The Human Torch looked so distraught, so beautiful, so wounded, so heavenly. He was bleeding in places Peter could never reach, could never fix. He was damaged in ways Peter could temporarily alleviate, but never fully heal. Peter wanted to drain all the pain from Johnny’s weary, fragile heart. He wanted to suck the guilt out of Johnny’s soul and replace it with everything Peter saw when he held his gaze. He—he wanted to kiss him. 

Oh god. He wanted to kiss him so badly right now. 

The panic that desire kindled rang through his bones like church bells. Maybe this is how I tell him what he means to me, he thought. Maybe Peter didn’t have to say anything at all. Actions spoke louder than words, after all—right? But was it wrong to kiss somebody without asking first? He considered it, then shrunk from the thought, then considered it again, weighing the choices before him like clay in his hands, his heart a thundering war drum in his chest. Right as he thought he might actually summon the gall to lay it all on the line and just go for it—

“Mr. Stark would like to speak to you, Spider-Man. He’s on his way down now.”

The A.I.’s words had Peter jerking back from the Human Torch as if he’d burst into flame again. It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that FRIDAY was likely surveying Johnny and Peter’s every move and conversation while they were in the tower together. She was there for security, not to spy, but Peter had seen her recording logs firsthand after requesting to download the footage of a particularly explosive mishap in the lab earlier this year. She had eyes on everything and everyone, including the two of them at this very moment. 

He couldn’t kiss him here. Not with her watching. 

“Oh, uh—he is?” Peter stammered out, marbles of disappointment clinking at the bottom of his stomach, his gaze still on Johnny as the young hero blinked at him slowly. He waved awkwardly at the ceiling. “Right. Got it. Thanks, FRIDAY.”

“You can talk to him,” Johnny insisted, eyes distant and thoughtful. “I’m, uh…I’m okay now.”

Swallowing, Peter bridged a portion of the gap he’d created between them, his hands moving way too much as he spoke. “You know, if you ever need to, like—let all your anger or stress or whatever it is out without worrying about torching anything, Avengers Tower has a room for that. You remember the battle arena where you and I fought? Every inch of that place is made of some of the strongest metal on earth—second only to vibranium. You can burn as bright and hot as you want—maybe even blast a few simulator drones if you need—without worrying about hurting anyone. It’s a great way to blow off steam for people like us. God knows how many times I’ve gone in there when I’ve felt low and needed to throw some punches without holding anything back.” Peter scratched a nonexistent itch on the side of his neck. “I can—I can take you there now, if you’d like.”

Johnny mulled it over for a bit, yawned, then shook his head. “I think what I need now more than anything is sleep. I’m always a big, blubbery, arson-prone grouch when I haven’t gotten my nine hours of REM.” He smiled at Peter, eyes foggy with much more than just exhaustion. “Thanks, though. I’ll let you know when I do need something like that. Which, with my track record, will most likely be sometime within the next week.”

Peter’s heart fluttered with sympathy and fondness. “Maybe you should head up to your room, sleep in a real bed. You know—go back to strangling your Puffy instead of me for the next few hours.” 

“Ben is also on his way to this level,” FRIDAY interrupted them once again. “He’s looking for Johnny. He has some, quote: ‘very exciting news to share with him.’” 

Johnny scowled. “Uh…what the hell does that mean?”

The ding of the elevator behind them turned both the teens’ heads as Tony Stark stepped through the doors onto the 78th floor. He looked sharp but casual in his coat and T-shirt combo paired with freshly polished tawny brown loafers. He grinned when he saw Peter, which put the teen a bit more at ease, only for the words that came out of his mouth to decimate all of that completely.

“Hey, there he is! The sneaky little lovebird I’ve heard so much about. Why didn’t you tell me it was a crush that’s been making you act so weird and jumpy lately? I’m great with that kind of stuff! Are we not on that level yet, or—” Tony paused when he noticed Johnny standing behind Spider-Man, his chipper smile faltering. “Oh. Sorry. Did you not want me to talk about this in front of him? I figured since the two of you are so close, he already knew.”

Confusion and panic burrowed like worms beneath Peter Parker’s skin. His insides began tangling and melting together as he gawked up at his beaming mentor. “I’m…sorry?” he stuttered, frantically trying to process everything he’d just said to him, horror encasing his lungs. “You—w-what’re you…talking about…?”

Stark chuckled amusedly. “Okay, don’t be mad. But your aunt may or may not have told me that you opened up to her about, y’know…liking someone?”

Peter’s stomach bottomed out. Oh no. Oh god. Oh shit.

“And since she’s not here,” Tony went on, “she has unfortunately enlisted me to be your stand-in romantic liaison to help you navigate this exciting but nerve-wracking love pickle you’ve gotten yourself into. I’m guessing this is her way of getting payback on both of us for the whole gunshot incident we tried hiding from her.” The Avenger snorted, crinkling his nose apologetically. “Normally I’d stay out of this sort of thing, but I’m under strict orders from the big boss herself to encourage and bug you about it until we get results. AKA: you asking your crush out on a date.”

This was a nightmare. It had to be. This wasn’t how Johnny was supposed to find out. It was supposed to be him—

“For starters, I gotta know: what’s the name of this superhero girl you like, and how long have you been fawning over her?” 

Peter’s mind went blank. Seconds flew by before the lights finally started flickering back on again. The first sensation Peter felt was relief. Relief that Mr. Stark wasn’t outing him to Johnny before he had the chance to do it himself. The following sensation was a numbing dread, coupled with the cold prickle of Johnny’s gaze tethered to the back of his neck. 

“Superhero girl?” Johnny parroted quietly. “What superhero girl?”

Tony huffed incredulously. “You don’t know about her either? Damn, kid. Where the hell have you been hiding this chick?”

Peter didn’t know what to say. His mouth refused to form words despite the hurricane of paradoxical thoughts barreling around his skull. He gingerly turned towards Johnny, knowing the sight would hack his heart to pieces. The celebrity’s face bore an expression weighed down by sorrow, disappointment, defeat. But no shock, no disbelief, which caught Peter by surprise. It was as if…he’d been expecting this to happen. Like he’d been patiently waiting for this exact bombshell to drop, despite hoping that maybe it never would.  

Before Peter could scrap together some way to deal with any part of this, booming footsteps shook the floor beneath them as the Thing came clomping down the staircase, jabbing a pudgy finger at Johnny the moment he spotted him. “Hey, Hothead! Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you all morning!”

Johnny swiveled languidly towards his teammate, a noticeable slouch in his shoulders. “What do you want, Ben?” he murmured. 

“What? You’re pouty? What’s got your lycra in a bunch today?” The Thing barked out a laugh and clapped Johnny on the back with one of his boulder-sized palms, making the teen wince. “Well, turn that frown upside-down, Torchy. We should be celebrating! Haven’t you seen the news?”

“What news?” Stark asked when Johnny didn’t. The Thing flashed a toothy grin in his direction. 

“An old friend of ours is popping by Earth for a visit! We haven’t seen him since he volunteered to help us during our space mission. He saved our lives and got us back home in one piece after our ship was damaged from the cosmic storm. We owe him a lot.”

Johnny’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. “Wait,” he said, all color draining from his face. “You don’t mean—?”

“Nova! He’s here! You remember Nova, don’t yah? Sam Alexander? Man, what a great kid. We would’ve burned up in Earth’s atmosphere if it wasn’t for him.” Ben gave Johnny’s shoulders an affectionate shake. “You two were like peas in pod from the instant you met. A couple of scoundrels up to no good; always getting into trouble. I figured you out of all of us would be most excited to see him again, so I wanted to be the first one to tell yah.” 

The look on Johnny’s face was one Peter had never seen before. He was pale as a ghost and rigid with fear. His eyes looked haunted and bleak. His breathing was growing faster and shallower by the second. Not even Fisk with all his power and intimidation tactics had elicited this kind of response from the teen hero. All because Ben had name-dropped some guy Peter had never even heard of before. 

Who was this Sam Alexander, and what exactly had he done to his friend?

“I don’t want to see him,” Johnny sputtered out, revived plumes of smoke rising off his body. “I never want to see him again.”

“How come?” the Thing said with a frown. “He wants to see you again. He’s asking to see you specifically. Tweeting about it or whatever. He wants to catch up with all of us, but mostly with you. I think Sue was trying to set up an interview or something.”

“I’m not going,” Johnny immediately countered, wrenching away from Ben. “Tell her I’m not going.” His eyes dashed around the room, holding Peter’s gaze an instant too long before snapping towards the window. “I—I need to leave.”

“Johnny?” Peter called. “Wait—don’t—”

But the Human Torch was already yanking the window open and leaping into the city, flames igniting across his body. Within seconds, he was a streak of orange and gold spearing through the distant gray sky. Peter watched him disappear behind the Empire State building, something dark and icy clawing through his bloodstream. 

“Yikes. Wasn’t expecting that.” Ben scratched at his craggy scalp. “Guess I better tell Sue to call off the interview.” The mountainous man stomped back up the stairs, every step rattling the priceless vases perched atop the shelves above the TV. 

Stark shot a glance in the direction Johnny Storm had run off, then turned back to Spider-Man, planting a hand on his hip and raising one eyebrow. “So…are we gonna talk about the girl now, or do you want to go deal with that first?”

Peter cycled a deep breath through his lungs. Johnny’s warm, oaky scent still clung to the air, like smoke on clothes the morning after a campfire. He kneaded his fingers into the back of his elbow as he faced his superhero mentor. 

“Mr. Stark,” he said softly. “If you like someone, is it better to just tell them that, or show them?”

Tony blinked, inclining his head to one side. “Uh…show them how?” he asked.

“Like…should I just say that I like hi—I mean—” Peter reddened behind his mask. “Her. Should I tell her that I like her, or just…I don’t know…” He swallowed and shrugged. “Kiss her?”

A laugh punched out of Stark faster than he could smother it. He cleared his throat, pressing a hand to his chest and he fought back a smile. “That’s, ehem…a rather bold way to communicate your feelings to someone, I must say. A bit bolder than I’d ever expect from you of all people.” He stroked his thin beard pensively. “I’m not saying it’s the wrong way to go about it, but I am curious why you’d rather do that versus simply telling her how you feel.”

Peter gripped his neck with a grimace. “‘Cuz every time I try to say it, it’s like the words get stuck in the back of my throat. I can’t make them come out. And when I do manage to speak, I always end up saying something stupid and irrelevant instead. No matter how badly I want to tell her, it’s like I physically can’t.”

The Avenger chuckled lightly, eyes warm with sympathy. “That, I’m afraid, does not go away with age or time. Have you two been friends for a while now?”

Peter hunched his shoulders, diligently measuring every word before loosing it from his lips. “Not really. But…we are pretty close.” This was beginning to remind him a little too much of his phone call with his aunt. 

“And do you think she likes you back?”

Peter blushed, pinching his eyes closed. “I mean…yeah. Kinda. Well, er—I don’t know.”

Stark nodded. “All right, that’s semi-promising. And you think the best way to confess your feelings to her is by just—swooping her off her feet and laying one on her, completely unannounced? No warning whatsoever?”

“No!” Peter squeaked, mortified. “That’s not—there’d be—some warning! A preceding statement of some sort!”

“Because past me is guilty of that kind of behavior, and I strongly advise against it.” He raised his index finger pointedly. “Consent is very important in any potentially romantic relationship. Has May talked to you about that yet? Or—yeesh, about any of it, for that matter? You know: the birds and the bees? The banana and the pomegranate? The train going through the tunnel? ‘Cuz I’d really prefer not being the one who has to—”

“Okay, stopping you there,” Peter blurted out frantically. “Yes. We’ve talked about it. I’m good. Thank you. Please don’t bring it up ever again.”

Stark held up his hands in surrender, biting back a grin. “Roger that. Just making sure we’ve got all our bases covered.” 

Peter fiddled with his web-shooters to give his restless hands something to do. “So…you think it’s better if I just say it? Or maybe—write it down, or something?”

Tony pushed his jacket sleeves up his forearms and squinted at the ceiling. “I think…” he began, smirking, “that your darling little teenage brain might be overthinking all this. Just do what feels right in the moment. So long as it’s respectful and consensual, you can’t go wrong. Whatever it takes for you to tell her what you obviously need to tell her. You can’t really logic your way through feelings like this, kid. Love is anything but logical.”

Peter dropped his head back and sighed dolefully. That, he could attest to. Nothing about the way he felt or acted around Johnny Storm was in any way logical.  

“Will I be getting to meet this crush of yours anytime soon?” Stark inquired curiously. “Or at least see a picture? Either one would really help me get back on your aunt’s good side. I’m in the doghouse until I have proof that my romantic mentorship is actually benefiting you.” 

A soft smile found its way onto Peter’s lips. His gaze floated back to the broad windows. The last vestiges of Johnny’s smoke trail smudged the skyline like brushstrokes before evanescing from sight. Beneath the maw of gathering storm clouds lied his city, his playground, his path to him, bright and bold and beckoning. 

“Maybe,” Peter eventually said. Something stirred within his rib cage, pulling him towards the glimmering possibilities beyond the walls of this tower. Heart thrumming, he pointed at the window and threw Tony a wave. “I gotta go find Johnny. Thanks, Mr. Stark!”

The Avenger watched bemusedly as Peter launched himself out of the tower, somersaulting through the air a couple times before catching himself on a thread of webbing and slingshotting around a neighboring skyscraper. A surge of alarm gushed through him, and Tony rushed to the window with his hands cupped around his mouth, shouting at the top of his lungs. 

“Hey! Easy on the theatrics, kid! Just because your stitches are out doesn’t mean your wound’s done healing!”

Spider-Man disappeared into the cityscape without acknowledging him, his laughter echoing off the surrounding buildings. Stark exhaled in defeat as he ducked back into the room, stuffing his hands in his pockets and tilting his chin towards the ceiling. 

“Well? How did I do? How would you rate how l handled my first stab at teenage superhero romance mentorship?”

The A.I. let out a sigh. “I supposed it could’ve gone worse,” she conceded. 

“I’ll take that as at least a C plus.”

_______________________________

Peter had almost forgotten how spectacular web-swinging through New York felt. 

Although he was determined to find Johnny, Peter couldn’t help but spare a few moments to bask in the blood-pumping exhilaration that came with being Spider-Man, something he’d been cruelly deprived of while his gunshot wound finished healing. He careened through narrow alleyways, propelled himself into the heavens, sprung between rooftops, and flipped through the air until his head spun, the howling wind like music to his ears, his stiff muscles stirring from their slumber, his heightened senses coming alive. He whooped and laughed and surrendered to every reckless desire his body demanded, indulging in enough pulse-pounding, gravity-defying thrills to give an adrenaline junkie a heart attack. 

And probably Mr. Stark, if he was still watching. 

Once his hunger for action was satiated enough, Peter climbed to the top of the Flatiron building and knelt along the edge of the roof, breathing hard, scanning the skyline for any signs of a flaming, flying teenager. Whatever smoke clouds Johnny typically left in his wake had been lost to the breeze. Not a trace of him in any direction.

“Come on, Johnny,” Peter panted, shielding his eyes with his hand. “Where’d you go?” 

He tried calling him again. Three voicemails and five text messages later, yet still no response. Dammit. Now what? Peter ground his teeth as he tucked his phone back in his suit, nauseous worry twisting in his gut. He was running out of viable options and leads fast.

“Spider-Man!”

The superhero flinched in alarm. The call had come from the street far beneath him. The voice sounded like a child’s.

“Spider-Man!” it bellowed again, screaming like their life depended on it. Peter’s head whipped towards the source of the cry: four dots standing at the base of the Flatiron building, waving their arms above their heads. “Down here!”

Tragically, children in trouble took priority over Peter’s quest to locate his friend. Johnny would have to wait.

Peter leapt off the rooftop, stuck to the side of the adjacent building, sprung into a backflip, then landed on the sidewalk in a low crouch. The four kids gaped as he rose to his feet, some holding drinks, others wearing backpacks and light-up sneakers. 

“Are you guys all right?” Peter asked breathlessly, scanning each of them for injuries. “Are you lost? Is someone hurt? Do you need help? What can I do?”

For a few seconds, the children just stared at him like some kind zoo animal who’d escaped his enclosure. Then the shortest girl grabbed the hand of the tallest and squeezed it ‘til her fingers turned blue. 

“He actually came! Oh my god! He’s actually here!”

“It’s really him,” the only boy of the group said no louder than a whisper, eyes practically bulging out of his head. “Is this real? Is this real life?”

“We got you coffee!” the third girl blurted out completely unprompted. The tallest girl, who Peter realized was actually just a very short woman (not a child), looked absolutely flabbergasted. 

“I—I can’t believe you came,” she stuttered out. “No way I thought you’d actually come down here.”

Peter gave an awkward giggle. “Well, you did shout my name at me louder than I thought humanly possible. Twice. I thought someone was in danger.”

The woman’s cheeks went scarlet. “Sorry. Really. I promise we weren’t trying to trick you. It’s just—” She ushered the children around her a step closer to him, whose eyes were galaxies of disbelief and wonder. “My kids are really big fans of yours.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to gawk. In all his days of Spider-Manning, Peter couldn’t recall ever being stopped by someone unless they wanted to beat him up, flip him off, or call him a menace. Or, occasionally, were in desperate need of his assistance. He certainly couldn’t remember the last time someone had called themselves a fan of his to his face. Spider-Man didn’t have any fans.

But now…

“I drew this picture for you!” the tiny girl squealed, fishing a crumpled piece of paper out of her backpack. She handed Peter a scribbly sketch of a red blob standing next to a purple blob surrounded by angry balls of black dust. “That’s you and me holding hands while you cover the bad guys in spiders!”

Spider-Man’s gaze shifted between the child and her terrible drawing, a little piece of his heart he hadn’t noticed was missing slowly wriggling back into place. 

“Oh,” he said a few seconds later. “Wow. You—you made this? Really? For me?”

“I got you coffee!” the loud girl proclaimed, thrusting a cup into his chest. “It was supposed to be for our dad, but I want you to have it instead! Fighting crime is much more important than whatever he does on his computer all day!”

“I want to be you when I grow up!” the young boy beamed. “You’re my favorite superhero! Just like Johnny Storm!”

“We love you so much!”

Peter held the gifts and the children’s kind words close to his chest. Spider-Man had never asked for praise or gratitude from the people of his city, and scarcely ever received it. He was there to help whether they liked him or not; no strings attached. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate it, or saw heroes who were loved by the public as lesser or greater than himself. He just…never expected it to happen. Didn’t know how to respond to it when it did. Felt baffled and overwhelmed by it, like a guy winning first prize in a contest he didn’t even remember entering. 

Maybe Johnny had been right before. Deep down, maybe Peter didn’t feel deserving of it. Two years of nothing but abhorrence and scorn had taught him what it meant to be Spider-Man. To protect his people, to defend his home, to sacrifice his blood and time and youth in pursuit of justice. To avenge his past, to save the world…and be hated for it. That was just his lot in life, and always would be. Peter would’ve carried on this way until his body failed him, until his veins were bled dry while the world rejoiced in his suffering, and would’ve been perfectly content with it. Maybe that wasn’t normal or healthy or right, but that was who he was. Who Spider-Man was. 

But…maybe it didn’t have to be. 

Peter tried to say something to the three kids and smiling mother standing before him, but found his throat closing up and his eyes starting to sting. He blinked, startled by his own reaction to such a silly and humble offering, the meaning behind it far more significant than they or any onlookers could ever know. The young hero swallowed thickly, honor and appreciation and embarrassment muddling together inside him and choking his wobbly voice.

“Thank you,” Spider-Man finally got out, forcing the broken words from his lips. The happy family’s grins immediately dropped, and a flush of bashfulness overtook him at how ridiculous he was being. “Sorry, so sorry. I’m not—I just—wasn’t expecting this. That’s all. It’s very sweet. And I’m—very grateful.” He covered his eye lenses with his forearm, trying not to spill the coffee or crush the girl’s drawing anymore than it already had been, laughing in spite of himself. “Oh god, this is so embarrassing. Please don’t post this anywhere. Johnny’s already tainted my digital footprint with enough humiliating content to haunt me for the next three lifetimes.” 

“Lainie’s ugly drawing made Spider-Man sad!” the loud girl shouted at the small girl, causing Lainie to immediately burst into tears. 

“Andrea!” the mom exclaimed. “Why would you say that?”

“‘Cuz it’s true!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! Don’t cry!” Spider-Man knelt in front of the weeping girl, uncrumpling the paper as much as was possible. “I think your drawing’s beautiful. That looks just like me! Especially after I’ve fought a bunch of bad guys who’ve thrown me into a brick wall a few times! I deeply admire and applaud your creative vision.” Peter held the crinkled paper out to her with a smile. “Would you sign it for me? Please? A piece this powerful deserves to be autographed by its creator.”

Still sniffling, Lainie dug a nubby crayon out of her backpack. She took the drawing, flattened it on the sidewalk, and scrawled her name in huge orange letters in the corner of the page, a few of her tears leaving wet spots on the paper. She swiped her hand under her nose and shyly offered the artwork back to Peter, who accepted it with an exaggerated gasp. 

“It’s perfect,” Spider-Man declared, hugging it against his heart. “Thank you, Lainie.”

While Lainie giggled and skipped in place, Andrea stamped her foot. “What about my coffee? Isn’t it perfect, too? Try it!”

The girl’s mother sighed. “Sorry about her,” she said.

Peter crouched down to Andrea’s level. “You’re a very confident and outspoken person, Andrea. I like it. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that’s wrong.” He nodded towards Lainie. “Just try being a little nicer to your sister, okay? Use that strong voice of yours to stand up for her and protect her from bullies. That’s what superheroes do.” 

Andrea gazed back at him, awe-struck, nodding fervently. “Okay! I will! I’ll protect her with my whole entire life!” She poked aggressively at the coffee cup in his hand. “Now drink it! It’s the best coffee in the world!”

Peter laughed. “The best? In the world? That’s a monumental endorsement coming from you. Let’s see if you’re right.” Spider-Man lifted up his mask and tilted the cup against his lips. It took every ounce of his self control not to immediately spew the coffee right back into all of the children’s faces. He clamped his eyes and mouth closed, gulping down the bitter liquid by sheer will power alone. 

“Wow, that is just—straight black coffee, huh?” he rasped, a shudder rattling through him. “Whew. That is…bracing. No milk, no sugar, no syrup, no siree. Who needs all that garbage? Not your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Nope. Just piping hot bean juice straight down the hatch all day, every day. That is, without a doubt, the best cup of coffee in the world.” Peter turned to the children’s mother, lowering his voice an octave. “On an unrelated note, does your husband happen to hate himself?”

“Look! Over there!”

“It’s him! It’s Spider-Man!”

Peter glanced up sharply, muscles coiling on instinct. Typically, when someone shouted the words “Look, over there, it’s Spider-Man,” in that order, they were often followed by a bunch of curses and insults and fistfuls of trash being hurled in his direction, and he didn’t want the family of four to get caught in the crossfire. 

A crowd was gathering around them, pressing in on all sides. Eyes and bodies and phone cameras had them pinned from every angle. Peter tugged his mask back over his chin and waited for his spider sense to go off, ready to take the full brunt of the assault. 

“Spider-Man!” a man called out. “You’re back!”

“We missed you!”

“How’s your wound? Shouldn’t you still be resting?”

“We’re so glad you’re okay!”

“Do a flip!”

Gradually, Peter loosened his jaw and unclenched his fists, shrugging off his defensive stance bemusedly. “Uh…” he said, head swiveling left and right. “Hey, New York. I, er…missed you too?”

“We love you, Spidey!” 

The crowd roared in agreement, their cheers and applause punting Peter’s heart straight into his throat. While he swept his wide-eyed gaze across the sea of shrieking fans, the young mother took her children by the hands and corralled them away from the congestion. 

“We’re gonna go now,” she hollered above the clamor. “Thank you for taking time to meet them! They’ll never forget it. Say goodbye, kiddos!”

“Bye, Spider-Man!” the kids all bellowed in unison. Peter waved as the four of them wove towards the edge of the mob, retreating from view. The space they’d been occupying was immediately filled by the fans standing closest to him.

“Can you sign my shirt?”

“Can we take a picture with you?”

“You’re so cool!”

“I love your costume!”

“How old are you?”

“Is it true you punched Thanos in the face?”

“You’re a lot shorter in person!”

“Show us how you shoot your webs!”

Peter was not used to this volume of attention in the slightest. Maybe in the form of resentment and hostility, yet somehow this felt far more flustering. Flattering, but still flustering. 

“Where’s Johnny?” someone shouted suddenly over the uproar, which helped ground Peter’s dizzied thoughts, reminding him why he was out here in the first place. 

With a quick breath out, Peter sprung off the sidewalk and stuck to a nearby traffic light, a spur of exclamations and wide eyes following after him. He hung off the side of the beam, grateful for the breathing room.

“Uh, so…thanks everyone for your kindness!” he yelled to the masses, feeling incredibly out of his element. “I’m, um—not very good at this sort of thing, but I really appreciate it!”

The crowd cheered him on, which drew an incredulous laugh from the spider-themed hero. Never in his wildest dreams had he pictured himself in a situation like this. Perhaps a lot of the public still saw him as a menace, but clearly the tides were starting to shift. All thanks to Johnny. 

“I could actually really use your help!” Spider-Man went on. “I’m trying to track down Johnny Storm, AKA Flame Brain, AKA the Human Torch! Did anyone see him pass through here? Does anyone know where he is?”

A din of murmurs rumbled from the mob while they conferred with their friends and checked their phones. Half a minute passed, and Peter was ready to resign himself to scouring the city borough by borough, street by street, locating his friend by any means necessary, no matter how long it took.

Suddenly, a hand shot up into the air, flailing aggressively back and forth. “He’s at the Statue of Liberty!” the owner hollered. “A video of him landing on the crown was just posted to Twitter six minutes ago!”

The crowd buzzed with excitement as more and more people verified and corroborated her claim. “Yes!” a second fan cried. “He’s there!”

“The Statue of Liberty!”

“Here’s a photo of him on it posted two minutes ago!”

“He’s definitely there!”

The mass of people cheered again, and Peter scoffed with shock and relief. “Man, I love social media,” he chuckled. “And New Yorkers.” The masked hero grinned as he shot a line of webbing at the top of the nearest building, throwing one last wave to the hordes of fans and passersby. “Thank you so much! I owe you all big time!”

The crowds went wild as Spider-Man sprung off the traffic light and swung low through the street, gaining speed as he gunned it for lower Manhattan. But right at the apex of his swing, Peter spotted a man sitting alone on a bench, opening a tin of mints. The superhero switched trajectories in an instant. 

“Oh! Hey!” he called out, whipping around and dropping to the curb beside him. The man jumped like Peter had stuck him with a thumb tack. “Could I maybe swipe one of those off you? I can trade you for it! One mint in exchange for the best cup of coffee in the world!”

The man balked at him. “Um…” he said. “Sure? I guess?” He plucked a mint from the box and held it out to him gingerly. 

“You’re my hero!” Spider-Man chirped. “I could kiss you! I won’t, though—I’m saving that for someone else!” 

He swapped him for the coffee cup, then launched back into the air, pirouetting between each flick of his wrist, popping the mint into his mouth. “Have a spectacular day!” he cried. As Peter thwipped down the road, he swore he heard the man coughing and spitting far behind him. 

It took him about six minutes to make it to the southernmost edge of Manhattan. Spider-Man crawled to the top of the building closest to the shoreline, squinting at the teeny-tiny silhouette of Lady Liberty plastered against the glistening waters of Upper Bay. Ellis Island was closer to Jersey than New York, but he didn’t want to waste any more time swinging all the way there, and taking a ferry or bus or taxi would likely wind up just as tedious. If he got enough momentum and caught a lucky updraft, Peter was sure he could make it.

Spider-Man traveled back half a dozen blocks down Broadway to give himself a sort of runway leading straight to the statue. He mapped out his path, accounting for the speed and direction of the wind, how tall Lady Liberty was, and how far he had to coast in order to reach her without taking a plunge into the bay. After running all the calculations, Peter figured he had about a 33% chance of successfully landing on the island.

Eh. He’d beaten worse odds.

It was an unusually cool afternoon for a summer day in New York City. Dense packs of clouds blotted out the sun, and there was a chill in the breeze that felt heavenly after weeks of blistering heat. Peter stood at one end of a tall building’s rooftop, rolling his neck and shaking out his shoulders, doing his best to hype himself up. 

“You got this,” he whispered. “You got this. Okay. Ready? Three, two, one—!”

Peter sucked in a breath through his teeth, then broke into an all-out sprint. His feet pounded against the concrete; his pulse pounded in his ears. At the opposite lip of the roof, Spider-Man dove off the building, barreling towards the earth like a human torpedo, waiting until he could see the whites of pedestrians' eyes before snatching himself back into the sky on a perfectly timed web-line. He swung in harmony with his city, using each skyscraper and dizzying drop as a pendulum for gathering more speed, more momentum, more height. 

As he approached the end of his urban runway, Spider-Man dipped between the cars jamming either side of the street, then catapulted himself skyward as high and far as gravity would concede. The moment he reached the tallest point of his swing, Peter pressed the spider symbol on his chest thrice in a row, then threw his arms out at his sides. Translucent web-wings stretching from his wrists to his hips peeled out of his costume under both of his armpits, mimicking the look and function of a flight suit. Or, as Peter had eagerly pointed out upon seeing the design for the first time, a flying squirrel. 

The wings buoyed him high above the world, slowing his descent, extending the distance he could breach without the use of his web-shooters. Far beneath the teen hero, Manhattan gave way to dark waters and white-capped waves. He strained his arms to stay locked in place, watching his shadow skirt across the top of the choppy surf. 

“Almost there,” he told himself, the looming statue filling more and more of his field of vision. “Almost there.”

Peter was a little over half a mile out to sea when the winds suddenly shifted, making him wobble and drop a few feet. The breeze was now working against him rather than for him. He was moving slower and falling faster. Fear blossomed in his veins as he watched the black water rush towards him from below. I’m not gonna make it, he realized. 

Peter lifted his gaze to the top of the Statue of Liberty. “Johnny!” he cried, bobbing to and fro like a kite caught in a tornado. “Johnny, I’m here! I need—aaahh!”

A rogue gale slammed into Spider-Man from the left, sending him spinning sideways out of control. The young hero hit the water with a muffled scream, the cold piercing him down to the bone. He kicked for the surface and burst from the waves, gasping for breath, only to choke down a mouthful of saltwater instead. A powerful swell had crashed on top of him the instant he’d tried to breach. 

His mask made it feel like he was being waterboarded. The surf was too rough for him to stay afloat for more than a few seconds. His muscles were petrified by ice and terror. This would be a really embarrassing way for Spider-Man to die, he told himself, but that reality was growing a little too plausible for comfort a little too fast. All landmasses looked impossibly far away for him to reach via swimming. He was alone and exhausted and starting to panic. Shit. Peter Parker was going to drown to death. Right as the world was finally beginning to like him. Right before he could tell his crush how much he cared about him. 

How heartlessly poetic. 

As hope began to shrivel in Peter’s waterlogged lungs, a hand suddenly plunged through the waves and seized him by the wrist. Spider-Man’s arm nearly wrenched out of its socket as something ripped him from the ocean’s deadly clutches. Peter broke the surface hacking and wheezing, then raised his woozy gaze to his rescuer. An angel dipped in gold and starlight stared back at him, bathed in divine beauty far beyond this realm, and Peter wondered if he really was in fact dead.  

“What the actual fuck are you doing, you moron?!”

Peter coughed up a bubble of saltwater and blinked his bleary eyes, the flame-engulfed scowl of Johnny Storm gradually slurring into focus. He held his livid, magnetic gaze for a beat, a feeble smile touching Spider-Man’s lips. 

“You w-weren’t answering your phone,” he replied meekly. “I had to reach you somehow.”

“By almost drowning yourself?” Johnny shot back. “I left my phone back at the tower, dumbass! I came here to be alone!”

“I was w-worried about you,” Peter said, shivering in his sopping wet spandex. Johnny gave the pitiful superhero a quick once-over, frown softening slightly, then sighed.

“You could’ve died,” he scolded him. Johnny lifted Peter away from the inky black water, flying the pair of them towards the top of Lady Liberty. “Come on—before you freeze to death.”

The Human Torch set Peter on his feet on the backside of the statue’s head, just behind her crown. Johnny hovered in front of Spider-Man as the arachnid-themed hero trembled in place, arms tucked in close to his body, a puddle of sea water collecting underneath him. The unexpected cold front that had overtaken the city for the day suddenly didn’t feel like such a blessing as a whip of frigid wind lashed through him, sending shudders racing down his spine. Still engulfed in flames, Johnny watched Peter shrink against the breeze with a wrinkle between his eyes, like he was debating whether it was morally irresponsible to let him die of hypothermia or not. 

“I’m s-sorry for coming after you when you w-wanted to be alone,” Peter told him through chattering teeth. “But…it’s important, b-because I—I really needed to t-tell you…I r-really n-needed to show you th-that I—I’m—”

“Stop talking,” Johnny cut in, dousing his flames with a huff. He marched up to Peter and seized him by the elbow, hauling him to the flattest part of Lady Liberty’s scalp and forcing him to sit. Butterflies tickled Peter’s insides as Johnny nestled in behind him and wrapped his arms around his chest and midsection, resting his chin on Spider-Man’s shoulder with his inner legs pressed against the outsides of Peter’s. The chilly hero suddenly found himself enveloped by Johnny Storm like a cloak of warmth and sunshine, the heat from his skin driving out the biting cold. 

“Oh,” Peter exhaled involuntarily, the ice in his veins slowly beginning to defrost. “Oh wow, th-that’s better. But you—y-you don’t have to—”

“Don’t make it weird,” Johnny retorted, his lips dangerously close to Peter’s ear. “I’m only doing this so you won’t turn into a spider-popsicle. We’ve gotta get your body temperature back up to normal.”

Spider-Man swallowed nervously. “R-right,” he murmured. His muscles were cold and rigid against Johnny’s soft, comforting touch. The front side of the flaming hero’s torso was flush along the full length of Peter’s spine, seeping warmth into the entirety of his back. His palms pressed into Peter’s chest and belly, transforming the freezing water soaked through his costume into swirling tendrils of steam. 

They sat that way for a while, the winds gushing, the clouds roiling, the waves sloshing against the vacant shores of the island. Johnny breathed in deep and held him close, the supernatural heat of his skin driving the shivers from Peter's bones.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it,” the Human Torch said eventually, shattering the long stretch of silence hanging between them. “But I’m fine. Really. You don’t have to worry about me.” He loosed a steady breath. “I just…needed to get out of that tower. After I…after, y’know, hearing the news, I wanted to be somewhere I could gather my thoughts. Somewhere I could go full supernova without putting anyone in danger, if it came to that. Ellis Island is closed for construction, so I figured the bay would be a good spot.” He turned his gaze to the New York skyline on their right. “Views aren’t bad, either.”

Peter dug his fingers into his kneecaps, trying to keep his legs from shaking. “The news about Sam?” he inquired. 

Johnny took his time answering. “Yeah,” he said reluctantly. “Sam.”

“Can I ask…what happened? W-with you and him?”

The Human Torch moved to rest his chin on Peter’s other shoulder, humming softly in thought. “It’s…” He groaned. “Y’know. Complicated.”

“I can handle complicated,” Peter assured him. 

“And embarrassing.”

“I just s-swallowed a gallon of seawater and almost drowned myself trying to glide to the Statue of Liberty like a flying squirrel,” Spider-Man reminded him. “Embarrassing is my middle name.”

A clipped laugh escaped Johnny. “Fine,” he relented with a sigh. “Just…please don’t share any details about this with anyone. Okay?”

Peter mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. “Promise.”

A brisk blast of wind buffeted the two heroes, sending goosebumps prickling across Peter’s flesh. Johnny cleared his throat, cinching his arms a little tighter around Spider-Man’s trembling body. 

“I first met him a few days after we launched into space,” Johnny began solemnly. “Me, Sue, Reed, and Ben had left Earth’s atmosphere in our ship and positioned ourselves in the ideal orbital path of the cosmic event we were hoping to study. We were getting settled and going over the timeline, all of us under the assumption that we were the only people up there interested in or even capable of observing it. Until there was a knock on our ship’s window.”

Peter listened curiously, trying not to let the closeness of Johnny distract him from his story. 

“Imagine our surprise seeing a guy outside our spacecraft. Just—floating around, totally untethered, in outer space. He had this strange helmet on and a thin suit protecting his body, but we had no idea how that was enough to keep him alive, or how the hell he’d gotten there. 

“After some heated debate, we decided to let him onto the ship. The guy introduced himself as Sam Alexander, a 17-year-old kid from Earth who’d spent the last year training in the Nova Corps on the planet Xandar.” Johnny tapped a finger against his chest. “I know that sounds like total sci-fi made up bullshit, but bear with me. Sam said he’d been sent back to Earth by the other Novas to observe the same cosmic event we were studying and make sure it didn’t cause any harm to his home planet. When we told him about our mission to collect samples and data from the particle cloud, he offered to help in any way he could.”

Peter had a lot of thoughts and questions cropping up already, but figured it best to keep them to himself until Johnny finished speaking. He balled his frozen fists against the statue and kept his mouth shut. 

“He worked with us as we prepared for the event to arrive over the next three weeks. We did everything together, and it didn’t take long for he and I to grow really close. He told me about his life on Xandar, how he went from a regular teenager on Earth to a superhero fighting intergalactic wars in space. He showed me the incredible things he could do when he wore the Nova helmet, like flying between planets without a space suit on, creating portals, manipulating gravity, even fucking telekinesis. I'd had, like, zero exposure to people with superpowers at that point in my life, and had never met anyone from a planet other than Earth, so all of it felt so…I don't know. Magical. Like my eyes were finally opened to just how big the universe is. Like I was meeting someone who had leapt right from the pages of a fantasy novel. I cherished every second we spent together, and never wanted the mission to come to an end. As our bond deepened and the cosmic event drew closer, I realized I…” 

Johnny fell silent. Peter felt the celebrity’s throat bob against his shoulder. A low growl of thunder rumbled above them. The sound of waves crashing against the island echoed faintly in the distance. 

“I realized I liked him more than a friend.”

Peter’s heart stuttered in his chest at his words, but he didn’t dare speak. Wasn’t sure what he’d say if he did. That single sentence sure held a lot. Answers and confessions and surprises and questions—too many for Peter to comment on without potentially scaring Johnny into discontinuing his story. No. His input wasn’t needed right now. Johnny deserved to say this however he wanted, without interruption. 

“I’ve, um…” Johnny stated, nerves straining his voice. He pulled back from Peter suddenly, shifting to sit beside him instead, making the spider-themed hero immediately miss the celebrity’s warm, protective embrace. He sat on Peter’s right, hugging his knees to his chest. Spider-Man bundled his limbs in close to himself, battling the shudders that reclaimed his body seconds after losing his sentient heated blanket. 

“I’ve…known since I was really young who I was and what I wanted," Johnny explained quietly. "I’ve only ever had crushes on boys, and I was lucky enough to be raised by a mom who taught me that was nothing to be ashamed of. My dad…well, that’s a whole different story, but he at least didn’t outright shun me for it.” He stared straight ahead as he spoke, like he was afraid of what he might find if he looked Peter in the eye. “I’ve never tried to hide who I am, but I stopped being as open about that side of myself after I told Sam I liked him.” Shadows shuttered across his expression. “He was…furious. It brought out a side of him I’d never seen before. He thought the only reason I’d befriended him was so I could, in his words, ‘trick the first superhero I met into fucking me.’”

Peter felt himself wince. Even though his skin was cold as ice, the blood moving beneath it suddenly felt white-hot.

“I tried telling him it wasn’t like that at all. I liked Sam a lot, so obviously I would’ve been sad if he said he didn’t feel the same. But I would’ve gotten over it and stopped pursuing him in that way for the sake of our friendship. That was more important to me than anything. I didn’t want to throw our entire relationship away just because I developed a crush. I cared about him too much to do that.” Johnny hid his face behind his knees, trying and failing to conceal his tears. “But I guess it wasn’t the same for him. He couldn’t see past it. I never would’ve told him I liked him if I knew how quickly it’d tear us apart. He said he never wanted to see me again, and made sure from that point on he didn’t.”

Johnny’s shoulders started to shake, and Peter couldn’t stand being silent any longer. He inched closer to him, laying his palm on his arm.

“Johnny—” Peter began, but the Human Torch flinched from his touch. 

“Wait,” he said, angling away from him with his eyes squeezed shut, curling into himself even further. “Just—let me finish first. Please.”

Instantly, Peter withdrew his hand, guilt constricting around his heart. Johnny blew out a breath, the intensifying winds whistling between them, then continued.

“The cosmic storm wasn’t supposed to come until the end of the month, but it arrived a week earlier than anyone expected and was triple the size Reed had predicted. It hit us the same day Sam stopped speaking to me. Sam had flown back to Earth to visit his mom when the dust struck our ship, and he showed up just in time to stop us from crash landing in the Pacific Ocean. He used his powers to get me and my friends back on the planet in one piece.” He grimaced. “At least—that’s what I was told. I was knocked unconscious the moment the cosmic rays hit and didn’t wake up until two days later.” 

Johnny splayed his legs out flat and leaned back on his hands, gazing up at the bloated clouds overhead. “I’m grateful that he saved us. I have to be. But the things he said to me that day have haunted me ever since. He was the first person I had a really serious crush on. He was also, ironically, the first person who made me feel true shame for that part of myself. Now that I’ve finally pieced my life back together after everything that happened with him and the mission and getting powers and all, suddenly—he’s back? And he’s asking to see me again? Why? I don’t understand it.” Johnny turned to him helplessly, eyes welling with tears. “W-what do you think? What should I do?”

Peter took the cue as a sanction to speak now, if he so desired. He kept his distance, though—despite how deep the cold was permeating his cells and how warm Johnny Storm looked. He thumbed through the lofty pages of lore Johnny had shared with him today—once, twice, thrice. It took him a minute to find the words that felt the most right to say.

“It sounds like Sam really hurt you,” Peter said, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. “And if you don’t want to see him again, I think that’s okay. You don’t owe him anything, and just because he’s asking to see you doesn’t mean he deserves to.” A candle of fear flickered inside Peter’s chest as he realized what the next thing he planned to say might lead to. But he didn't let that stop him from continuing. “It is possible he may want to speak now because he’s sorry about what happened between you two and is hoping to make amends. A lot’s changed with you since that day—so maybe a lot’s changed with him, too.” Peter tucked both hands under his armpits, trying to bring some feeling back into his numb fingers. “But m-maybe that’s not the case. Maybe he’s still an asshole, and you’re better off keeping your distance. You know him better than I ever will. You’re the best person to make that call.”

Johnny kept his eyes on the sky above them, a look of tranquility settling across his graceful features. A soft breeze rippled through his reddish-gold hair. Peter admired him longingly from where he sat, wanting to drop-kick anyone who’d ever caused him harm. Even if Sam had changed his tune since the last time they’d spoken, Peter hoped the two of them never met. The gnawing urge to clock him in the nose for how he’d treated Johnny might prove too difficult for his waning empathy to subdue. When the Human Torch finally turned towards Spider-Man, his tears were dry and his lips were curved into a small but genuine smile. 

“You’re a good friend, Spidey,” Johnny said softly, criss-crossing his legs with his hands in his lap. “I hope your talk with your crush goes better than mine did.”

Peter’s body stiffened, heartbeat revving like a freshly jumped car. “My—what?” he stammered out, reeling.

Johnny tilted his head slightly to the left. “That superhero girl Stark mentioned,” he reminded him. “The one he said you should ask on a date. Aren’t you gonna talk to her?”

Spider-Man recalled then what Johnny had overheard, but it wasn’t relief he felt this time. Just…heaviness. Weariness. His heart wilting in his chest once again. 

“Oh,” Peter said, confused and conflicted. He lowered his gaze to his feet. “Right. That.” 

Was it time to correct that little misunderstanding?

“You should talk to her,” Johnny encouraged him. “I’d bet anything she likes you back. You’re a total catch, and she’d be lucky to be with you. Don’t let my clusterfuck of a love life deter you from going after what you want. I have the worst taste in romantic partners. Just ask Sue.”

Peter was only half-listening to what Johnny was saying. His mind was preoccupied with the same dilemma he’d been wrestling with since late last night—or rather, if he was being honest with himself, since the day he recognized his feelings for Johnny for what they truly were. At this point, Peter had abandoned the should he or should he not quandary. Now, it was purely a question of execution. It all made sense now: why Johnny never dared confess his feelings to Spider-Man. He’d done this all before already, and look how marvelous that turned out for him. The news of Peter’s supposed crush on some nonexistent superhero girl must’ve dealt the final blow to any hopes he might’ve harbored of a potential romance budding between them. He’d given up. Thrown in the towel. Deigned to support Peter’s alleged romantic interest because he was committed to being his friend, and that’s what good friends did. 

Well, respectfully, fuck friendship, Peter thought. He was ready for something more.

He was done playing it safe. He was done denying himself because he didn’t feel worthy. This was his moment to grab hold of what he wanted with both hands and pull.

Limbs shivering from more than just the cold, Spider-Man pushed off the ground and rose to his feet. A light drizzle had started to fall, negating all of Johnny’s previous efforts to warm him up and dry him off. Peter curled his hands into icy fists at his sides, stomping down his fears as they rose like bile in his throat, his heart beating somewhere outside his body. He set his jaw, then whirled on Johnny sharply.

“I’m gonna tell you something!” he shouted at him—so much louder than he meant to. But he was too focused on just getting the words out to worry about what volume that happened to be at. “I don’t—I’m not sure how, but I am! Right now.”

Johnny blinked at him perplexedly. “All right…” he said, a suspicious wrinkle dimpling along his brow. He looked somber and somewhat bored while Peter’s heart was threatening to implode from anticipation. 

Peter hopped on his toes, did a lap around Lady Liberty’s head, gave himself the world’s meanest internal pep talk, then planted himself back in front of Johnny, clapping a hand over his eyes.

“Okay—I’m not gonna tell you something!” Peter decided, voice cracking. “But I am gonna show you something, if you’re okay with that!”

“Why are you yelling at me?” Johnny laughed cheerlessly. He rose upright, standing across from the spider-themed hero with a hand on his hip. “Did you swallow too much seawater or something? Do I need to fly you home?” 

Peter felt like he was boiling in his own blood. He was blushing so hard, he wondered if he might actually be running a mild fever. Could a person die from being so hopelessly lovestruck yet terrified to say it? Maybe he’d be the first.

Spider-Man dragged his hands down his face and groaned at the sky. “Okay, okay—how ‘bout this,” he proposed frenetically. He lowered his arms and took a step closer to Johnny, knees threatening to give out underneath him. “Could I just—can I try something? And then, if you don’t like it, I promise I’ll never do it ever again? We can both forget it ever happened, and just continue on with our lives without ever mentioning it. Or, if you really don’t like it, you could even punch me afterwards! Or burn a handprint into my forehead! Whatever makes you feel properly repaid for my transgressions against you. You have my blessing to do what you gotta do to make things even. Does that sound good?”

Johnny’s bland amusement was starting to pitch towards concern. “I’m confused about what's happening right now,” he admitted. “What are you wanting to do?”

Peter flexed and unflexed his damp palms at his sides. “It’s…a surprise?” he offered weakly, then sighed. “But I need your permission to do it. Before I…y’know. Surprise you.”

Johnny scoffed, crossing his arms tight against his chest. “Um…okay,” he conceded warily. “You have my permission to…surprise me, I guess.”

Rain pinged against the algae-green metal of the massive statue they both stood on. Droplets slithered down Peter’s eye lenses, blurring his field of view. His body felt blazing hot yet glacier cold all at once. 

“Okay,” Peter squeaked out. “Cool.” He could not believe he was about to do this. He took another step closer to him, then retreated back skittishly, his bashfulness almost too much to bear, Johnny’s strikingly beautiful gaze too intently focused on him. Peter interlaced his hands together in front of his chest. “Could you maybe, um…close your eyes? Please?”

Johnny searched his masked face. Something new flashed in his blueish-gray irises. Something…fearful? Peter wasn’t quite sure. Nonetheless, he obeyed. 

Mist blanketed Johnny’s skin like early morning dew. His hair stuck to his forehead in messy, criss-crossing strands. Tiny raindrops sparkled in eyelashes. Peter expelled all the air from his lungs. He raised his trembling fingers to his chin and carefully rolled his mask above his mouth. The roaring of his pulse replaced all sound as the young hero stepped forward, eyes dropping to Johnny’s lips. Those freckly, grotesquely perfect lips. He wasn’t deserving of them, of this, but there was no backing out now. What should he do with his hands? He opted to let them hang uselessly at his sides. Should he have put chapstick on? This was taking too long. Goddammit, Parker. Come on! No more stalling, hiding, making excuses. Peter swallowed harshly, then forced his eyes shut. He prayed his heart wouldn’t give out on him as he slowly leaned forward. 

“Are you…about to kiss me?”

Peter’s muscles seized as his eyes popped open. Johnny Storm stared back at him, their lips mere inches apart, his face the picture of disbelief. All the moxy left him in an instant. Peter reared back, doubt and terror flushing through him.

“N-not if you don’t want me to,” he said thinly. 

“You’re serious?” Johnny asked, looking a bit panicked. “You—you’re not just joking around right now?”

Like the crack of a hammer to his temple, Peter realized he’d read this all wrong. Utterly, horribly wrong. Johnny didn’t like him back. He never had. He had confided in Peter about his past romantic woes because Peter was his friend, and he trusted him. Not because it had any connection or correlation to their own relationship. Johnny had finally felt safe enough to open up to him about his sexuality, and what was the first thing Peter did in response? Assume Johnny had a crush on him like the selfish asshole he was. Simply because they were both boys, both sixteen, and both in each other’s general proximity. How could he be so cruel? So insensitive? He wondered how many times this had happened to him before. Befriending a fan in hopes of forming a true bond, only for them to turn around and treat him like a shiny prize for the taking. Peter was no different and no better than the masses and hordes of others who clamored after Johnny Storm, itching to snag fistfuls of his sunshine for themselves. 

Peter staggered back from him even more, heart guttering with shame. “I’m sorry,” he said, invisible fingers closing around his throat. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Johnny balked, clearly still in shock from his betrayal. He took a step towards him, extending a hand. “Webs—” 

“I messed up. I’m so sorry, Johnny. It was a mistake. I shouldn’t—” Guilt stole his voice away. He turned his back to him, every breath a dagger to his lungs. He felt like he was drowning all over again. “I’ll leave now. Just please don’t—”

Something grasped his arm and spun him around faster than Peter could blink. Whatever appeals and apologies still dangled on the tip of his tongue were smothered to death by a pair of lips crashing into his own. The world lurched and swayed around him, then fell away all at once. Johnny cupped a hand against the back of his head and pulled him in closer, kissed him fiercer, his mouth gentle yet ravenous as it traipsed across Peter’s. It was the first kiss of his life that had Spider-Man seeing stars. 

When the two of them finally came up for air, they held each other in their hands and gazes, the drizzle overhead paring open into an all-out downpour, and laughed. The rain pounded and the wind roared, but neither of them could care less. Peter felt mired in a dream or the final frame of a movie in the best way imaginable. Johnny pressed his forehead against his, the wild throb of his heartbeat singing in Peter’s ears. His bubbly giggles quickly morphed into sobs. 

“I thought you were straight!” Johnny exclaimed, interlacing Spider-Man’s fingers with his own.

“I thought you were straight!” Peter shot back, dazed with mirth, laughing.

“You thought I was straight?” Johnny wept, tears and raindrops bleeding together as they slid down his cheeks. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me!”

“Johnny!” Peter giggled, cradling his face in his palms. “Why are you crying?”

The Human Torch shook his head, a beautiful, blubbery mess. “I just—I didn’t think you felt the same,” he sniffled. “I thought it was just me. I was so afraid that—”

“Me too,” Peter assured him, still giggling. He couldn’t seem to stop giggling. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Johnny told him, breathless with joy. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

"Really?" Peter practically squealed. Shock and delight undulated from his heart in tsunami-sized waves. “Same here! I'm just—I can't believe that you—all this time, it was actually both of us who were feeling—" Giggles swallowed up his words, but he was too thrilled and starry-eyed for it to embarrass him much. He pressed his face closer to Johnny's, their noses brushing. "When did you realize you liked me?”

Johnny’s cheeks blazed with color, and Peter noticed then the tiny, rosy flames lapping off his shoulders, hissing in the pelting rain. “Probably since you kicked my ass in front of everyone during our spar,” he admitted, averting his eyes with a sheepish smile. “What about you?”

Peter bit the inside of cheek, immediately regretting the question. Blush veiled his flesh like a second skin. “Before we even met,” he said through a cough. He saw the smug retort building in Johnny from a mile away and jabbed a finger into his chest. “But I didn’t officially know it was a crush until much more recently. I didn’t understand my feelings back then. I didn’t even know I liked guys like that.”

“When did you know you liked guys?” Johnny pressed him a little too fervidly. Peter groaned, realizing the hole he’d dug himself into far too late. 

“Around...like…four days ago…?” he mumbled, wincing. Johnny’s eyes brightened fiendishly. 

“Hold up,” he said, cupping a hand under Peter’s chin, trailing his thumb along his jawline. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” His grin was as blinding as a thousand suns. His touch was turning his legs to putty. “Did meeting me turn you gay?”

Peter scoffed, clawing free of his spell, snatching Johnny’s hand away from his face. “You didn’t turn me gay,” he insisted, rolling his eyes. 

“But I made you realize you were gay,” he remarked proudly. “I was your gay awakening.”

“I’m bi, actually,” Peter corrected him.

“Only because my handsome face and irresistible charm lured you to the dark side,” he forged on, winking at him. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“You’re a dick,” Peter giggled. Baffling happiness and devastating relief swirled together like whirlpools in the masked hero's belly. It wasn't just me, Peter's dizzied mind repeated again and again, grasping tight to Johnny's wrist with his right hand while digging his thumbnail into the palm of his left; just to make sure this wasn't some cruel dream or twisted trick of his imagination. Johnny likes me back. We both like each other that way. He stared into his eyes of lapis lazuli and wondered just how virtuous his past life must've lived for him to be so damn lucky in this one. 

“I’m glad all the work I put into winning you over wasn't wasted,” Johnny beamed. “You certainly took your time making a move, Webs. Was I not laying it on thick enough? I was hardly being subtle.”

Peter hunched his shoulders. “I thought being flirty was just your personality,” he explained skittishly.

“It is to a certain extent! But I was practically throwing myself at you! Homemade meals, personalized gift baskets, calling you hot to your face on at least seven separate occasions. What more did you want from me?”

Peter laughed into his palms. “I’m sorry! I just figured that’s how you treat all your friends. I didn’t want to assume anything!”

“Well, you should have! You had me questioning my game, Spidey! I thought I’d lost my edge!” 

Peter felt giddy as a child on his first trip to Disney World. He rubbed at the back of his neck, the residual warmth of Johnny’s lips pressed against his own still setting off fireworks in his belly. “Trust me,” he said. “You’ve got plenty of game. Maybe too much for my liking. I’m no good at any of this.”

Johnny chuckled. “You flung yourself in the ocean just ‘cuz you were worried about me. That’s plenty romantic. Dangerous and idiotic, but still romantic.” He smiled at Peter from ear to ear, slicking back his hair with his fingers, then frowned. “Wait. So what was all that stuff Stark was saying about you having a crush on some superhero girl? Was that true?”

Peter's ears went pink. “Oh. Right.” He rocked back and forth on his heels. “That was about you, actually.” 

A line formed between Johnny’s eyebrows. “I’m the superhero girl?”

“I tried telling my aunt about you, but when I mentioned I had a crush on another superhero, she assumed it was a girl. I’m not out to her yet, so I panicked and just played along. Then she talked to Mr. Stark about it, who also doesn’t know I’m bi, and now it’s snowballed into this big lie I’m having to sustain with everyone.”

Delight flashed across Johnny’s features. “You told your aunt about me?”

Peter giggled shyly. “Yeah. She and I are really close. We tell each other about everything going on in our lives. I wanted her to know about you and offer any advice she had, but it all kinda ended up backfiring.” The masked hero shivered, soaked from head to toe. “I feel bad lying to her, but I’m scared the truth could…I don’t know. Change our relationship.”

Johnny’s eyes softened with sympathy. “Who all knows you’re bi?”

Peter shrugged. “Just you and my best friend.”

“Oh, wow. So, like—hardly anyone.” Johnny tried wiping the raindrops off his chin with his sleeve, but his costume was just as wet as his face, so all it did was smear long trails of droplets across his skin.

“Who knows about you?” Peter prompted him in return. Johnny snickered.

“Well. Most of the general public speculates I’m some form of queer, just from—y’know. The way that I am.” He tucked a strand of dripping hair behind his ear. “But the only people I’ve told outright are Sue, Reed, and Ben.”

A coil of anxiety wound through Peter’s ribs. “Does it bother you? Having all these strangers discuss your sexuality all the time?”

Johnny pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not really. I actually find it entertaining. It’s fun to keep the fans and the paparazzi guessing. Sometimes I’ll go on fake dates with my lesbian friends just to throw everyone off and see what kind of headlines come out of it. It’s shocking how gullible some people can be.”

Peter felt himself redden a little. He’d definitely fallen for one too many of those click-baity tabloids in the past. “And are your teammates…supportive of you?” he asked.

“Oh, sure. They don’t care. I give them far worse things to worry about than what gender I prefer making out with.” A sly smile curled along his lips as Johnny pressed closer to him, hands sliding around his waist to weave together against the small of Spider-Man’s back, kicking the teen’s pulse into overdrive. “Speaking of which, do I have your permission to kiss you again? Because I’d really like to, if that’s okay with you.”

Spurred by uncharacteristic boldness and clarity, Peter answered his question by throwing his arms around his neck and planting his lips on Johnny’s, giggling as he did it. The Human Torch had stolen their first kiss from him; and, as resplendent as it’d been, Peter wasn’t gonna let him nab the second as well. Not on his watch. 

A little squeak of surprise came from Johnny, followed by a flash of heat. When Peter pulled away from him, his whole scalp was lit ablaze, eyes wide and cheeks pink. 

“You have my permission from now until your sister or some other vengeful force of the universe strikes me dead,” Peter told him, glowing from the inside out. He snickered at the flames billowing off his head. “Did I do that?”

Johnny glanced up in surprise, then frantically smothered his scalp with his palms. “Shut up,” he giggled sheepishly. “I can’t help it.”

“Are you gonna light on fire every time I kiss you?” Peter inquired, standing on his tiptoes to peck him on the nose. The flames he’d extinguished instantly roared back to life, spreading down his shoulders and arms this time. 

“Spidey!” Johnny exclaimed, jumping back from him, flustered and laughing. “Cut it out! I could burn you!”

“But it’s so cute!” Peter beamed. “Totally worth the risk of a pre-mortem cremation. I’ll take my chances.”

Johnny smacked his shoulders until the flames died down, rolling his eyes, unable to mask his radiant smile. Peter wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to keep warm, as cold and wet as a New York sewer rat.

“So…” Peter mused, grinning up at him bashfully. “What now?”

Johnny shook out his hair like a golden retriever after a bath. “What do you mean?” he said, mirroring his smile.

Peter pulled his mask back over his chin. “I mean…I like you. A lot. And as much as I’d like to galavant across New York, kissing you on top of every iconic fixture of the city…” A knot of shame formed in his stomach. Peter licked his lips. “I’m just…not sure I’m ready for the world to know about this part of myself yet. It’s all still so new to me.” He grabbed Johnny’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “It has nothing to do with you, I just—”

“It’s all right,” Johnny assured him. “I get it.”

“And with Fisk watching us, I don’t think it’s a good idea if we—”

“You don’t have to give me a million reasons for it, Webs. I’m okay with keeping it under wraps. I understand.”

Peter swallowed, guilty with relief. “What about our teammates?”

“We don’t have to tell them either, if you’re not ready for it. We don’t have to tell anyone. Nobody has to know until you want them to.” Johnny pressed a kiss to his forehead, lighting sparklers inside Peter’s chest. “As long as I get to be with you, I don’t care. We’ll keep it a secret for as long as you need.”

Peter smiled until his cheeks ached, overflowing with warmth despite the arctic temperature of his skin. “Thanks, Flame Brain,” he said, voice brittle. 

Johnny lifted his lips off Peter’s mask and grimaced. “Hiding it from my people might be extra difficult, though. Especially Reed and Sue.”

“Why’s that?” Peter asked. 

Johnny winced. “Reed…kinda already guessed that you might like me. And that I liked you. He called me out on it a few days ago and encouraged me to approach you ‘cuz he thought there was a good chance you liked me back. He’s an obnoxiously observant and nosy bastard.” He sighed. “And he tells Sue everything.”

Peter bristled at the idea of someone seeing through his disguise so easily. Granted, Reed was a certified, world-renowned genius, but still. He’d read him like a book without even trying, as if the words “Please Kiss Me Johnny Storm” were tattooed across his forehead. Were Peter’s feelings for Johnny really that obvious? How long before the rest of Avengers Tower exposed his poorly veiled secret? How long before the entire world did?

“We’ll just have to be extra careful when we’re around them,” Johnny decided, cracking a smile. “Maybe we can fake-argue whenever they’re in the same room as us. I could pretend I randomly turned into a Daily Bugle fan and accuse you of whatever insane shit Jonah is rambling on about that day. Or you could call me a self-obsessed snob with a god complex and mommy issues.”

Peter busted into a laugh. “I don’t want them to think we hate each other! Jesus! Let’s just act like we’re friends and avoid doing anything that might convince them otherwise.” He gave Johnny’s shoulder a playful punch. “Two totally platonic, exceedingly heterosexual super-bros. That’s us.”

Johnny snorted. “Right. ‘Cuz that’s worked so well for us so far.”

Peter ran a hand across his rain-speckled eye lenses, a shadow crossing over his otherwise lustrous heart. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Sam?” he asked reluctantly. “Maybe there’s a chance he’s a better person now. Maybe you two could be friends again.”

Preferably nothing more than that, Peter thought with a pinch in his gut. But if he’d make you happier than me…

Johnny took Peter’s hand in his and held it against his heart, a slurry of pained understanding yet unbreakable resolve etched into his face. “I don’t even want to think about that douchebag right now,” he assured him. “Maybe ever. Right now, I only want to be here. Nowhere else, with no one else. Just us.”

God, was he perfect. Too perfect. It was almost unfair. The smile he beheld him with could shake the very stars from the sky.

At that moment, a frigid gust of wind barreled upon them from the east, making the rain fly in sideways. Peter’s teeth started chattering again as he braced himself against the numbing gale and downpour, trembling like a leaf. 

“Oh,” Johnny said, scanning him up and down, completely unfazed by the rain or wind. “Are you still cold?”

“Um,” Peter stuttered, shoulders hiked to his ears, knees quaking beneath him. “L-little bit.”

Johnny reached out and touched his arm, lowering the superhuman layer of warmth he shrouded himself in to protect his body from the elements long enough to feel the temperature of Spider-Man’s skin. His jaw dropped when the cold reached his fingers. Blinded by his excitement for his reciprocated affections, Johnny hadn’t bothered to notice that the person he was kissing and ogling and fawning over was freezing to death right before his eyes.

“Holy shit, Spidey!” Johnny cried, bundling him into a superheated hug. “You’re like ice!”

“Oh my god,” the masked hero whimpered. “You’re s-so warm.” He shuddered out a breath, nestling his head between Johnny’s chin and shoulder, the Human Torch’s intoxicating smell and toasty embrace like shots of ecstacy to his senses. “Is this what being a lizard under a heat lamp feels like? Sweet mother of Christ. Bake me alive. Set me on fire. Go full supernova. I can take it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Johnny insisted, ignoring the shivering teen’s quips. He hugged him closer to his chest. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? We need to get you out of the rain.”

“A cup of hot cocoa wouldn’t hurt either,” Peter added, voice muffled against the bend of Johnny’s neck. Peter felt the Human Torch’s laughter rumble softly through his body, and he thought he might melt with happiness.

“Fine. I’ll make you the best hot cocoa ever. After we get you home.” Johnny snaked an arm around his waist to lift him off the ground, but his hand bumped something in the hidden pocket of Spider-Man costume. Curious, he tugged the object free, then frowned. “What’s this?” he asked, holding the sopping piece of paper between them.

Peter gasped in dismay. “Oh no,” he lamented, cradling it in his hands. “My artwork! It’s ruined.”

“Your artwork?” Johnny said dubiously. 

“It was the first piece of fan art I ever received,” Peter explained, the drawing turning to mush in his palms. “A little girl named Lainie made it for me. It was a picture of us holding hands with spiders everywhere. She signed it and everything. It was probably the worst depiction of me I’ve ever seen in my life. I loved it with my entire being.” The paper chose that moment to fall apart entirely, plopping into sad, wet piles on top of Lady Liberty’s head. “And now it’s gone.”

Johnny’s eyes brightened. “You mean you met a fan of yours? Like, in person?”

Peter nodded. “I did. A lot of them, actually. More than I’ve ever seen in my life. They helped me figure out you were here.” He nuzzled back into his irresistible bubble of warmth. “People are actually beginning to like me now. They’re starting to see me as someone helpful and trustworthy. I don’t know how you did it.”

“You did that,” Johnny corrected him. “I just opened their eyes to what was already there. It was all you.”

“You’re a goddamn miracle worker, Johnny Storm.”

After a beat, Johnny sighed wistfully, raising a hand to Peter's neck, his index and middle fingers resting against the heavy thump of his pulse. “Fine," he conceded. "I suppose you’re right. I am amazing. And talented. And inspirational. And hot.” A smirk lifted his features as he traced the tips of his fingers up his throat and under his chin, sending a different kind of shiver crawling up Spider-Man's spine. “No wonder you want me so bad. I’m impressed, actually. Fresh out the closet, yet here you are—snatching the world’s hottest bachelor off the market like a pro. Do you know how many fans’ hearts you’d be breaking if they knew? They’d call you far worse things than a menace; I can promise you that.” 

Peter turned ten shades of red beneath his waterlogged spider-suit. Even now, when they both knew they liked each other, Johnny’s wily teasing still left him blushing brighter than a summer sunset. In fact, knowing Johnny was flirting with him because he liked him probably made it a hundred times more effective and about a thousand times more flustering. A startled giggle sprung out of him as Peter’s hand flew to his neck. Johnny’s cackling injected Peter’s skin with static, but the flaming teen’s gaze brimmed with affection as he swept the masked hero into his arms, planting a kiss between his eyes and lifting them into the sky. 

“I’m so happy you liked me back,” Johnny said, holding him like something precious, something holy. The wind and rain hammered down from above, but Peter could hardly feel it. Johnny’s warmth was all-consuming and steadfast, shielding him from the blustery outside world. He pressed in close to him, praying they were too high up for anyone in the city to see while also drowning in too much joy to care that much if they did.

“I’m so happy you liked me back, too,” Peter giggled in reply. Time would only tell what new adventures and dangerous obstacles awaited them now that they’d taken this leap. Foes and friends rising against them, battles and turmoil fought both externally and within. But now, no matter what, they’d face those things together. Side by side, hand in hand, the spider and his flame. 

Peter held onto this moment like a firefly caged between his fingers. It was so perfect, so magical, he couldn’t bear the thought of letting it escape him, of watching that fleeting, wondrous light disappear beyond his reach. He’d grasp it tight and hold it close for as long as he could without squashing it. 

Spider-Man ignored the breathtaking views of the city whisking by beneath them. He traced his gaze across Johnny’s refined features the whole ride home, heaven struck.

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

sure, it's christmas once more (Obey Me!)

A/N: You know, I caught up and then immediately fell behind again, way farther than before, that sounds exactly right for me 💀 But! I'm working on it! Even if the rest of my stories are late, I'll still get them all posted, I promise <3

Pairing(s): Diavolo x MC

Prompt(s): 10. Diavolo

Summary: A mini parade on Christmas morning

Tag(s): Fluff!, Barbatos also makes an appearance :3

Word Count: 520

Song Inspiration: It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas by Michael Buble

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Read on AO3]

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31]

~*~

A long, drawn-out yawn is the only sound in the room besides a quiet clicking noise. MC stretches out their limbs as they blink open their eyes, rolling over. They take a moment to fully wake before sitting up, placing bare feet on the plush rug spread out underneath the bed they’re on. They glance out the window, seeing the beautiful daytime moon high in the sky, stars twinkling happily. They then start to get up, glancing at the floor to see where they’re about to step - and that’s when they notice it.

Nutcrackers, ballerinas, wooden trains, little animals. A mix of Human World and Devildom Christmas toys and…Little Ds? They’re all crowded together right in front of MC, staring up at them expectantly.

“...Good morning…?”

At the greeting, there seems to be some kind of simultaneous cheer before all of them turn around in sync and start marching towards the open door. MC laughs softly, curiosity pulling them to stand and follow behind the little parade.

The Little Ds take the lead, all of them in number order, followed by all the little toys. They march out of the bedroom and down the castle halls, the wood of the toys clacking against the marble floors. MC very quickly realizes where they’re being led. There’s a room frequently used by the residents of the castle and their more familial guests, a private dining room and common room fit into one space. It’s much smaller than the ones used for formal affairs, much more lived in and cozy.

This is the exact space that all of them enter together, and waiting for them at the dining table, breakfast already laid out, is Diavolo, Barbatos sure to be somewhere nearby.

“MC! Good morning! Merry Christmas!” Diavolo exclaims joyfully, toys gathered around him, some trying to climb up his legs.

MC giggles at the sight, walking up to the demon and leaning down to give him a kiss. “Merry Christmas, you silly man.”

He chuckles. “Silly? Am I really so?”

A nod. “Yes, very much so. I’m sure even your butler would agree.” The human catches the eye of the butler, dressed in simple pjs rather than his usual formal suit, carrying a pile of presents in to add underneath the tree on the other side of the room.

“Indeed.” He says simply, smiling at the two fondly.

Diavolo grins, pulling MC into his lap gently, careful of the little friends on the floor. “Well, I’ll happily wear such title. What did you think of your morning greeting, my love?”

They smile and nuzzle their nose against his affectionately. “I loved it. It was adorable. Thank you, my love.”

“Good, I’m glad. It came to me a few days ago and I just couldn’t help myself.” He admits, kissing their cheek. “Now, why don’t we all have breakfast so that we can get to the main event?” He asks, looking between the two others with him, Barbatos walking over to sit at the table as well. Both of them give the enthusiastic ruler a nod, and a festive, cozy Christmas morning carries on.

~*~

A/N: My twin helped me figure out what to do for this one after some brainstorming and I really like this, it's such a cute lil thing <3 I hope you enjoyed it!!

~*~

Taglist:

@dutifullyuniversallykingdom

@om-adventcalendar

@the-ancient-fae

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!

[sunshine-theseus]

Angel In Disguise | Esme Morgan x Reader

Word count: 2k

Summary: life’s hard when all your students prefer your footballer partner over you.

Warnings: fluff, children? idk how the English school timeline works and the Australian one doesn’t match up with the story so I’m just saying school starts in like September and ends in late May??

Request for: @wlwskyy i hope this is good! it's probably not as good as I hoped but i'm still pretty happy with it

Being a primary school teacher was hard. Trying to help students who struggle with the content while also helping others progress. Being strict while also wanting to be fun. My biggest struggle though, was a very me specific one.

Esme Morgan loves to visit me or help me out at school from time to time, and just like everyone else she meets, the kids fall in love with her. From the first time they meet her, they’re begging me to bring her back.

“Ms L/n it’s so cool you’re dating a footballer! Can you bring her back tomorrow? And the day after that and the day after that one until forever?” and once they realise that she actually has her own job to do, they beg I bring her in at least once a term.

It was my first year teaching after university, the first time she’d come to work, and it had been a complete surprise.

After she broke her leg in 2021, Esme struggled to fill her time. She’d made about 27 bracelets in the first 3 days, then tried to bake a little, although it went rather poorly. She then watched all the original Disney movies in release order. I think she got to Mulan II before she decided enough was enough.

I was in the middle of teaching the times tables when there was a light knock on the door. I could see her cheeky smile through the small pane of glass and rushed to open it for her. Esme stumbles through the door, her moon boot and crutches making it difficult for her to fit through the rather narrow frame.

She pecks me on the lips and the room erupts in childish giggles. Romantic affection was something so foreign to 8 and 9 year olds.

“Es… what are you doing here?” I whisper as I pull a chair for her sit on.

“I got bored, and I miss yoouu.” She smiles up at me and I can’t help but smile back.

“Oh! And I brought gifts for the kiddos!” she holds out a paper bag and I peak inside.

My heart melts at the pile of hand-crafted bracelets, ranging in colour and design, that fill a significant proportion of the bag.

She spent the rest of the day surrounded by my class. Eventually I had to stop teaching because they were so in love with this angelic limping figure who brough them friendship bracelets. I don’t think Esme prepared for them all to assume she was every single one of their best friends.

~~~~~

It was nearly Christmas break when she first met my class for this year, and everyone knew who she was. For the first time, I didn’t have to introduce her or tell them what she does for them to get hyped.

“I WATCHED YOU IN THAT FOOTBALL THING” and other similar phrases are shouted many times when she enters the room.

When I looked at her it was hard not to smile. She was playing and talking with kids and giving them all little bracelets, just like she does every year.

As she was crouched in front of a small group who were excitedly asking her questions, Marley, a rather shy and quiet girl, walked up to Esme and lightly tapped her shoulder. She fiddles with her fingers and avoids looking at anyone as she waits.

“Excuse me Mrs Esme?” Esme is already smiling when she turns to look at Marley.

“Hey kiddo!”

“Um you’re my favourite player of all time. I watch all your games and wanna grow up and play just like you.” And Esme’s smile grew bigger, something I wasn’t sure was possible.

“That’s so cool! Can I give you a hug?” Marley nods and giggles into the embrace, and then they begin to talk about Marley’s interest in football and Esme’s work.

I’d been struggling to get her to talk for 2 months, and Es came in and got her to talk within minutes, but I can’t stop staring lovingly at the angel of a woman in front of me. There was a part of myself I saw in Marley. I’d struggled to be very open for a long time until I met Esme. She just had this gentle, caring nature that was hard to ignore.

-

Marley misses her the most between visits. They’d made a secret handshake and love to chat and giggle on the oval at lunch, kicking the ball around.

In between visits Esme and Marley both interchangeably would give me something to give the other; a bracelet or a packet of lollies or a flower they found randomly. It was so hard for me to not burst from how cute their friendship was.

It had changed Es as well. Obviously, she has always been welcoming and warm-hearted but she’d become more confident about her play and sometimes I would catch her bragging to her teammates.

“I’m Marley’s favourite player!” it took them a while to realise who Marley was, but they found it adorable.

-

We’re in our last week for the school year, just in time for Esme to make one more surprise appearance before she has leave for camp for the France Olympics. I’d told the kids she wasn’t sure if she would have time to make it between finishing up the season and preparing for the Olympics, but that didn’t stop them from begging me to bring her in.

It’s the last day, everyone already buzzing for their long holiday, and admittedly from the lollies I gave them. I always try to make the last day super fun, activities and music and a surprise guest.

By midday I’d already had to apologise that Esme couldn’t make it. 17 times and counting.

And by 1, there was a knock on the door. A knock the kids were all too familiar with, and Esme rushes into the room, kids swarming her from all angles.

“Hey kiddos!”

“Hey pretty lady” she turns to me and kisses me quickly. Gags and loud ‘ewww!’s echo out.

Marley waits patiently with a small bag in her hand, still considerably shy. Esme wastes no time in getting to the young girl, with a similar bag in hand.

“Hey Mar! I got you a little something.” Esme hands the bag over, and everyone watches carefully as she pulls out whatever lays inside.

I see the familiar light blue peak out, and recognise the jersey design I sport most weekends. The present is clear when Marley starts jumping up and down in excitement.

“It’s one of my spares so don’t tell Gareth, ok? I got all the girls to sign it.” Marley is wrapped around Esme before she can finish the sentence.

“Thank you!” she scrambles to put her bag in Esme’s hands before tugging the shirt over her head.

I nearly scream when I see Esme pull out a black and purple jersey, colours I know from all the pictures Marley shows me of her games, usually with a trophy in her hands. Her last name and the number 14 adorn the back with a tiny ‘Marley’ in black sharpie on the ‘1’.

“Oh my god Marley this is so cool! I’m going to keep this forever. In a few years time I’m going to see you playing for England and know I got the first ever Marley jersey and signature. And of course you’ll play for Manchester City yeah?” the little girl eagerly nods her head.

-

The day goes on and the kids go home for the last time. Esme leaves after an hour of helping me pack up the classroom, to start dinner and I don’t finish until 5:30.

By the time I pull into the driveway, I’m exhausted, but satisfied with my work for the year.

I leave most of my gear in the car to unpack another day and walk to the door. I struggle to open it for a moment but when I do, I’m hit by the smell of my favourite meal cooking and the sound of Esme singing, albeit not well.

I drag my feet into the kitchen and wrap my arms around my wife, kissing her back as I just rest against her.

“Hello my love.”

“Hey sunshine.” I pause for a moment.

“You’re so good with kids.” She hums as she turns the stove off.

“And you helped Marley so much.”

“She’s a good kid, it’s hard not to like her.” I pull away and reach up to kiss her on the cheek before looking for the small gift bag.

“What are you doing?” Esme questions as she begins to plate to the food

“Well we have to measure Marley’s shirt for a frame so we can hang it up don’t we? I want to be able to boast to the world in like 8 years time about how I taught her and how we have her first ever signature.” I poke her in the side as I grab my plate.

“Well how about we do that tomorrow? I just want to cuddle with you tonight before we have to pack and get ready for camp.” I let out a loud groan.

“I can’t believe you’re taking me to France, and we’ll barely be able to do any of that gross romantic shit together.” Esme smiles down at me, regret floating behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Noo I’m so excited I just think they’re cruel for making players do their job or whatever.” I jokingly roll my eyes before I lean back into her on the couch, both our plates sat in our laps.

“I promise to take you to that restaurant on the top of the Eiffel Tower before we leave.” She kisses my forehead.

~~~~~

“This is light work for the defender, tapping the ball passed Courtney Nevin and chipping it passed the Australian goalkeeper! IT’S A GOAL FOR ENGLAND AND THEY FIND AN EQUALISER IN THE OLYMPIC FINALS!”

I cheer at the goal with the rest of the stadium, hugging the small girl next to me as she bounces in excitement.

“Did you see that mumma? She scored! Mar Mar scored!” Reese shouts over everyone else.

“I did! It was amazing, wasn’t it?”

When the game ends, I pick Reese up and we rush down to the pitch with the other family members, celebrating as we make our way. It takes us a few minutes to spot the players we’re looking for but when Reese points them out, I put her down and she runs toward them without a single thought.

“Congratulations!” I pull Esme into a kiss before turning to Marley. The 16-year-old smiled brightly at me before hugging me tightly.

“Your goal was fucking phenomenal Marley! They should make you a striker.”

“But then she wouldn’t be just like her favourite player” Esme buts in, our daughter falling asleep on her hip. We all laugh and continue to talk with the other girls and celebrate until we decide to head back to the hotel to put Reese to bed.

“I’m so proud of how far you’ve come you know?” I pull Marley into my side as we wait for the elevator.

“From ‘shy little 8 year old who refused to talk to her teacher’ to ‘number 14; defender and debut scorer for her country at the 2032 Olympics at 16 years old’.”

“And one of the youngest and best signings for Man City!” Esme chimes in

“Thank you for always believing in me.”

After we say goodnight to Marley and make sure Reese is definitely asleep, I climb into bed with Esme.

“You’re so amazing.” I stare at her. Sometimes I don’t understand how I was blessed with such a kind-hearted, gentle woman.

“I try.” We break out in giggles and I slap her lightly on the shoulder.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” we don’t say anything else.

She kisses me hard before I rest my head on her chest, her arm wrapping around me as we fall asleep. She’s my angel in disguise.

[ashdreams2023]

Hey, how are you doing? Do you think you could do some headcanons of Loki about how would his morning routine and night routine be like with a Reader, from already thank you very much!

I’m good honey and of course!

Everyday routine with Loki

He’s not an early bird like Thor but he also doesn’t oversleep, so he wakes up around 8:30 or 9:00 early enough to have breakfast

Takes around 30 minutes in the bathroom to freshen up and apply his skincare because let’s be real he cares

I feel like it depends if you’re one to make breakfast then he would make the table if he’s the one making breakfast you’re kinda just standing there looking pretty

Not the biggest talker in the morning but when he has his tea he starts asking you about your plans for the day

Usually stays in his pjs until like 11 then takes a nice bath and changes to his outside clothes

If you two have plans together he makes sure you’re ready on time, because he doesn’t like being late to things

Likes going on walks in the park with you, also pets every cat he encounters

You have a rule whenever you’re out he pays, no matter what

You may pay for takeout at home but outside you better sit your pretty ass done and enjoy the spoiling

If you have a job, he spends most of the day reading and taking care of his plants, but there is many occasions where you would come home to angry neighbors

He acts all innocent every time too

"You can’t just blow up the neighbors pool!"

"She was using a rude tone with me!"

You two cuddle after you come home from work and it’s his favorite time of the day

Lunch is late most days and sometimes you two just snack away until dinner

By evening he’s back to his comfortable pjs, also he wears those fluffy Cookie Monster slippers around the house

If he goes and does errands know that you will come back home to something new and unnecessarily bought 

And somehow he always has space for this stuff

"I can’t do this anymore!"

"Oh come on! It was on sale too"

"We don’t need a waffle maker!"

"But it has Mickey Mouse on it!"

Honestly you just give up, at least he uses them

After dinner and long conversations about your day he cleans up and reads a little more then finds something else to busy himself with until bed time

He sleeps on the left side of the bed and always cold so he’s always reaching for you during the night for warmth

[artsyannierose]

Huskerdust:

Angel and Husk’s love language?

What would they describe as their perfect date?

Who made the first move?

Who is more sentimental?

Who falls asleep first?

Who is more more relaxed/carefree?

Who is always cold?

Who worries more?

What are some non-sexual activities they do together?

What are some things they don’t agree on?

What’s their individual flirting style?

Which member steals borrows the other ones clothing?

Who is the cuddle initiator?

Who stays up way too late and who tries to drag them to bed?

Who gives piggy back rides to the other?

Who fell in love first?

IM SORRY I CANT DRAW ALL OF THIS I JUST DONT HAVE THAT KIND OF TIME BUT IM JUST GONNA SCRIBBLE MY THOUGHTS DOWN IF THATS OKAY

1) Love Language - Words of Affection

Honestly Physical Touch was running my mind at first but like that’s just so casual for them. That’s like their thing you know, coming home and just flopping down on the bed together.

sleepy snuggles <333

So then if they wanna actually get through to each other im sure they won’t skimp out words of affection and affirmation, plus im an absolute sucker for them speaking in Italian to each other I NEEEEEDDD THAT IN CANON

Also im a slut for the pet namEs plspls THEY ALREADY LITERALLY CALL EACH OTHER “BABY” GUYS THATS NOT VERY PLATONIC OF YOU 🤨 🤨

That remind of this one post like “Husk and Angel call each other ‘baby’ and no one knows whether its romantic or platonic (they don’t know either)” cuz thats so them

2) Perfect Date - Alone Time

Call me basic but I promise you neither of them want a grand extravagant fancy date at a restaurant or something (not that they wouldn’t i can totally see them dressing up for each other and going out) but i feel like their ideal date is just. Each other.

Also i am a SLUT for a date where Husk carries Angel around and the fly over the ring while probably singing some cheesy romantic song like I See the Light i want that. Pls. (Obviously I’m a huge Tangled fan)

3) First Move - Husk

This isn’t anything new but like it’s just in character for Angel to worry about messing something up somehow and would probably flirt with Husk but freak out once it got serious. He probably doesn’t wanna replay that night in Episode 4 where he overstepped Husk’s boundaries so like I’ll bet Husk asks to kiss him first. That’s not to say that both of them are not awkward asf around each other

LET THE OLD MEN ACT LIKE TEENAGE GIRLS IN LOVE 🗣️ 🗣️

4) Sentimental - Angel

Mostly cause he hasn’t had any sort of proper relationship and the one that had any sort of promising future quickly turned into a living hell (f u Valentino). Bro doesn’t know what a healthy relationship is supposed to even look like

So whenever Husk does little, pretty normal things, like wipe his tears or get him some cheap makeup that reminded him of Angel, Angel would turn into jelly, like a water balloon ready to burst honestly.

5) Falling Asleep - UMMM I WANNA SAY HUSK

I feel like it REALLY depends on the day’s events

But i headcanon that Angel has insomnia (perhaps im self-projecting idk shhhh) so only Husk’s purring can help him sleep well. So I think Husk is just the type to like, crash after he flops in bed cuddled up with Angel

6) Relaxed - Angel

Idk this is just in character, Angel’s a party boy for one. Husk would rather chill at the hotel

7) Cold - Angel

Hmmm this just feels right to me. That he wants to cuddle up in Husk’s warm embrace

Besides bro’s literally built like a stick. And wears slutty clothes why wouldn’t he be cold

8) Worries More - Husk

They both worry about each other okay they’re both in dangerous and very unfortunate situations but like Angel gets stuck at work hours upon hours straight yk

Husk never knows when he’ll be home so he gets worried when Angel’s been gone without at least texting him something cause we know the kind of crap Valentino pulls

9) Non-sexual Activities

Cuddling. Self Explanatory.

I WANTTTT HUSK TO FLY AROUND THE PENTAGRAM WITH ANGEL IN HIS ARMS SO BAD. CAN THAT JUST BE A NIGHTLY THING FOR THEM. LIKE A NIGHT WALK BUT HUSK CAN FLY

Angel grooming Husk’s wings anyone?? I want. Pls.

10) Disagreements

Never really thought of that

I feel like Husk doesn’t believe he can get redeemed while Angel is slowly believing that redemption is possible. Both eventually believe Angel can get redeemed but Angel is convinced that if he can get redeemed so can Husk. Husk though, he's full of self loathing and no faith sooooooo yeah

11) Flirting Style

Angel - Words. For sure. He’ll never skimp out on reminding Husk just how sexy that kitty is

Husk - Physical. SORRY IM SUCH A SLUT FOR HUSK TEASING ANGEL AND TURNING THE. ANGEL. DUST. INTO A FLUSTERED BEGGING MESS. LIKE I NEEEEEED THAT

12) Clothing - Angel

considering husk doesn’t wear anything but pants….and angels clothes would NOT fit him I promise

(They def had a night where Angel shoved husk into all his outfits)

Angel would buy matching tshirts I promise you that

anyway I feel like he’d steal clothes more yuh but tbh I don’t think he’d fit into it💀💀

HE WOULD STEAL THAT FUCK MONDAYS MUG THO

HE ABSOLUTELY WOULD

HUSK WOULD BE LOOKING ALL OVER FOR IT AND ANGEL’S JUST IN BED LIKE “teehee”

13) Cuddle Initiator - HUSKKK

DONT GET ME WRONG ANGEL DEF INITIATES SOMETIMES BUT I WANNA IMAGINE HUSK JUST BEING SO HAPPY TO FINAAALLLYY CUDDLE ANGEL AFTER A SHOWER FROM A LONG DAY OF WORK

Husk loves the way Angel is at complete peace and relaxation once he falls into Husk’s arms, like a limp noodle istg

of course Angel feels like it’s heaven and prolly passes out pretty quickly

besides ain’t it canon that husk likes cuddling

GIVE THE OLD MAN SOME CUDDLES 🗣️🗣️🗣️

14) Staying up Late

Tbh this could go either way bc Angel comes home late from work anyway

and I’m sure there are days Husk comes late from errands from Alastor

if we’re talking pure personalities tho Husk would be up doing smth while Angel being the drama queen he is would be moaning and whining in bed like “cOooME hErE iMM sOoOOo LoNELy aNd inComPLeTe WiTHouT yOuuUUuU”

15) Piggy Back Rides - Husk

Nobody argue with me Angel just bounces onto Husk at random times and demands he carry him around

ALTHOUGHHHH A SWITCH WOULD BE FUN YK ANGEL BEGS BEGS BEGS HUSK IF HE’LL LET HIM GIVE HIM A PIGGY BACK RIDE AND OF COURSE HUSK CAN’T SAY NO SO HE OBLIGES

16) Who fell in Love?

OHHHHH DONT GET ME STARTS ON THIS

DONT….

ITS CAUSE I COULD TALK SO LONG OF THEM FALLING IN LOVEEEEE

Ill try to shorten it but BASICALLY Angel definitely was lusting after Husk (and i am convinced that Angel has a thing for men with deep sexy voices and Husk has the deepest and sexiest voice hes ever heard so he was smitten) from the moment Alastor teleported him into the hotel, and kept trying to hit on him. However after episode 4, Angel began to see Husk as a person rather than someone he needed to win over or someone who was just playing hard to get.

Husk on the other hand was first disgusted and annoyed by Angel’s tendencies, and he even thought he understood him without Angel ever opening up to him. After ep 4 however he also starting wanting to actually get to know Angel as a person. I wanna say cheesy stuff like Angel fell first but Husk fell harder…but I don’t believe that the case

They both fell for each other equally hard and both are absolutely smitten with the other bro…it took them a sec to get to know each other but they are in it deep now. Angel is absolutely in love with Husk and desperately wants to remind him that he doesn’t have to go through his trauma with Alastor alone, and he wants Husk to learn his self-worth and he won’t shut up about it. Husk loves Anthony through and through, and that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love Angel Dust. It’s just certain aspects of Angel are horrendously fake that Husk cannot stand, but he still loves all parts of Angel Dust. Angel has a little easier time opening up to Husk than vice versa but that doesn’t mean it comes easy. So Husk also wants to make sure that Angel feels loved and he feels like he's worth more than everything Valentino tells him. And he wants Angel to feel like he has control over his life, not that hes only good for being used up (gosh im thinking about Paranoid DJ’s Use Me Up i LOVEEE THAT SONG)

And we all agree angel has self-worth issues right

Anyways its been like a week since i got this ask so ill shut up now

I HOPE THIS SUFFICES ANON IM SO SORRY IT TOOK THIS LONG AND I DONT EVEN HAVE ANY DOODLES BUT IVE BEEN REAAALLLY BUSY

AND I GOT AN ASK ABT HUMAN HUSKERDUST SO I GOTTA DO THAT

BYEBYE <333

[tamurilofrivendell]

Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 11

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the ‘lost’ daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Taglist: @hufflepuff1700​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jinlizz-dragondrama​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @firelightinferno​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @bubbleyukismile @coopsgirl​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @achromaticerebus​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @sleepyamygdala​​​​​​​​​​​​​   @smalltownbigheart​​​​​​​​​​​​ @qmabailor​​​​​​​​​​​ @genderfluid-anime-goth​​​ a/n: I’ve been a little behind on this one and I’m sorry!! My hyperfixation on another fic (and struggling to try and force myself to edit two first drafts of original novels) has made me blind to everything else which was obviously unintended when I started this, but I still have the outline in my drafts and I will finish it don’t worry.

The forest was quiet as Thranduil and his elk travelled beneath the trees. He was furious. No, he was absolutely livid. Who did Radagast think he was? Stupid wizards, always meddling. Thranduil knew deep down that Radagast did not intend to cause him true pain but, once more, his mind was seriously fixated upon that day in Lindon. The day he had witnessed the princess and the two queens die. However, his fury also stemmed from something else, something that neither had said but was very much present in his mind.

“-help her as your father would have wanted - as your mother would have wanted.”

Thranduil knew very well how his parents would want him to help her, particularly his mother. They would wish him to give the princess sanctuary and aid, which he knew was the correct thing to do and he would do it, but they would also wish him to honour the terms of the marriage they had arranged between the two. To strengthen the bonds between the Noldor and Sindar even further, which had really been one of the only things the two queens had ever wanted.

Thranduil would not, of course, force the princess into anything but... he knew without even having to ask that Radagast was already thinking it and that he could be crafty in getting his way, perhaps he was feeding the princess the story right this moment. Thranduil knew, too, how such a thing could work in everyone’s favour and he knew that it would honour the memory of all four of their parents, and perhaps help this girl who had been secreted away for well over 3,000 years without any titles, her name practically lost to history.

However, the source of his anger was not directed at the poor princess herself, not at the idea of marrying a complete stranger, but at what such an alliance would take from him.

You.

He recalled his thoughts of how he had never taken a queen, when the Enchantress revealed to Radagast her ire at his father’s apparent sin against her by not allowing her to marry his son. He recalled how his mind had conjured up the image of you, singing in the glade while picking berries, and he realised now why the thoughts had come to him - because he had quite obviously developed some sort of feelings towards you.

Thranduil came then to the clearing where he often met you, sliding from the back of his elk with a sigh as he looked around and realised that you weren’t here as he had hoped you would be. He stepped to the side and sat down upon a fallen log, leaning forward with his hands clasped, sitting for a time just staring down at the forest floor.

“You look gloomy.”

Thranduil quickly lifted his head at the sound of your voice, looking up just in time to see you stepping into the clearing. He smiled. “It has been a very long week...”

“Ah, so that’s why you haven’t come to see me.” You trilled, moving to sit next to him. You didn’t mean it in a bad way, you were not hurt by it or anything, but something in you had missed him greatly. You had become quite charmed by him and enjoyed the times you could spend in his company.

Thranduil chuckled. “I do apologise, my lady.” Running a kingdom was busy, he thought ruefully, though he still did not say it. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t just tell you. Truthfully, he didn’t know what you must think of him, but he knew for sure you did not know he was the Elvenking. Perhaps you thought him a guard.

A soft laugh escaped your lips and you shook your head. “You don’t need to be sorry. I have perhaps become too used to your company.”

Since that first day Thranduil had come across you here, singing with the animals, he had probably come a lot more than he would normally otherwise have walked the forest. Something had just continued to pull him to you, and he had been drawn to this clearing of yours a number of times as the weeks had passed you both by. Then it had seemed only natural, it had become routine. He only wished he had not had the stress of the Enchantress and the past clouding the meetings, though he supposed now perhaps he should stop coming... the thought saddened him.

“Besides.” You continued, shooting him an amused glance. “We’ll always have our dreams.”

Thranduil laughed then, the first one since Radagast came to his halls and told him all about his last meeting with the Enchantress. He was pleased you remembered, truthfully, his silly little joke from before. Once upon a dream.

“Yes.” He chuckled, reaching out to take hold of your hand. “So we shall!”

As he took your hand, you were both suddenly struck by a most peculiar feeling that went jolting through the both of you. It felt like a real, tangible thing, a bolt of lightning. You quickly snatched your hand back in surprise and Thranduil frowned down at his own in confusion. “Did you...?”

You nodded, glancing up at him curiously. “What was that?”

“I do not know.” Thranduil muttered, pulling his hand back as he considered. It could not be... could it? He lifted his gaze and found your eyes on him. He smiled softly. “Lothíriel, I... I have come to greatly enjoy your company over these last weeks, and I...”

Here he trailed off and you wanted to push him to continue but all speech seemed to have been taken from you somehow. The clearing was silent for a long few moments then, the birds in the trees above poking their curious beaks down through the leaves to hear the king’s confession.

“I find you absolutely enchanting.” He admitted, looking back up at you. “From the very first day I saw you, I think I just... knew.” It seemed unfathomable to say such a thing, but a lot of elves had felt that way through history. Why, his own father had looked once upon his mother and instantly loved her as if he simply always had. It was as if their souls had known each other before they even met... and Thranduil suddenly came to the realisation that if he married Gil-Galad’s daughter then he would forever regret leaving you in this forest. He would always think of you, he wouldn’t be able to move on. That would not be fair to her, or to you, or to himself.

“Knew... what?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as you blinked back at him. You did not have much experience with others, or feelings like you were beginning to have, other than Thranduil... but you did not need to, really, as it seemed to sort of be a kind of instinctual thing.

Thranduil reached out to take your hand again, brushing his thumb gently over your palm. You shivered slightly and he lifted his gaze, meeting your eyes. “That I... that I am meant to love you.”

You could only stare at him in shock as the words passed his lips. “You... truly?!”

Thranduil nodded. “Truly.”

You were at a loss for what to say, not because you did not feel joyous or warm from the words he spoke, but simply because you were just no good at this. He did not seem to mind, almost as if he read what you were thinking in your eyes.

“Would you allow me the honour of courting you, my lady?” He ventured next.

You blinked at him, thinking that you should pinch yourself because it simply did not feel real. What could this interesting, worldly warrior possibly see in you?! Some random elleth who barely had any social skills the day he met her. You cast your mind over the time since then - every smile and lingering look - and you nodded, practically beaming at him. “Yes! I... I would like that very much.”

His smile grew slightly and you watched as he stood from the fallen log and extended an arm towards you.

“Dance with me.” He said suddenly, taking hold of your hands and pulling you to your feet.

You laughed and let yourself be pulled, and there in the clearing where you first met, you and he danced beneath the swaying blossom trees while the animals watched on.

That evening, you returned to the cottage with the brightest smile on your face. Your cheeks were rosy red and a blackbird was sitting atop your hair as you burst into the little house, causing Radagast to jump in the air and turn around very abruptly from his place at the counter. You were humming as you walked towards him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Good evening!” You smiled brightly as the blackbird jumped from your head down to the table. “Do you need any help?”

“What’s got you in such high spirits?” Radagast wondered. Why, you were practically floating!

A gleeful giggle escaped you as you reached for him, taking hold of his hands and pulling him into a little waltz across the kitchen floor. His steps were clumsy in contrast to your smooth ones but he couldn’t help but chuckle anyway, glad to see you happy... and safe. He had allowed you into the forest, though not without much back and forth in his own mind. However, he knew that soon you would be in Thranduil’s halls and would not have the same freedoms to visit your favourite places in this forest. Not until the Enchantress was gone.

You were humming as you danced with him and then you pulled back, smiling brightly at him as he watched you with curious eyes. “Oh, you’ll never guess!” You said, still a little nervous of his reaction but you knew that now was the time to tell him. “Wait until you meet him!”

“Him?” Radagast’s smile began to fade a little as he tilted his head at you. “What do you mean? Who? You have met some stranger?”

You shook your head, spinning on the spot once and then coming to a stop as you looked back the wizard. “Oh, no! No, he’s not a stranger. I mean... not anymore.” You clasped your hands together, truly hoping that Radagast would come to understand. “I have met him many times now, in the clearing. I should have told you, I’m sorry, but he is honourable. I swear. He wishes to court me, uncle! I promise, you do not have to worry! He’s coming tomorrow night, you can meet him and-”

Radagast, however, looked stricken. “Oh, my dear child...” He said sadly. “Oh, no... no. That can never be.”

You paused, your smile falling away, replaced by a soft frown. “What do you mean? Why not?”

“Well, you... you are already betrothed, my dear.” He said quickly. “From birth. To... to the Elvenking.”

“What?!” You could not understand his words because they quite simply made no sense. “No... h-how can I marry a king? I would have to be...”

“A princess.” Radagast said simply, watching the confusion on your face grow tenfold. “You are a princess.” He continued. “And I am sorry for keeping the truth from you but it was necessary. Please... listen to me.”

Radagast’s brow set into a deep frown as he looked back at you, the crestfallen look on your face, the hurt swimming in your eyes. Still, you didn’t run away and shut yourself in your room like you wished to. You stayed standing firmly before him as you waited for him to continue, to give you some explanation, willing him to make this all make sense.

Radagast sighed, his heart heavy with sorrow, for he knew that the time had now come to tell you everything.

[bluejay-writes]

MysticTober 2024 Day 8/9: His Muse

You can read this over on Ao3 if you’d prefer.

Rating: T

Prompt: Jihyun x MC / Painting || Fate / Lie

WordCount: 8028

Summary: Jihyun needs a muse for his new painting collection. Author's Notes: So, Day 8 got away from me and became both that and day 9. Sorry it's a day late... but not sorry it's over 8000 words.

Hen knocked on the studio door, then stood and fidgeted nervously with the strings of her hoodie. She’d replied to this advertisement on the Art Department’s bulletin board for a model, specifically one who could stand for long periods of time without moving. Honestly, she was pretty sure that most people these days just took reference photos and painted from that, but if some student wanted to pay her an exorbitant-seeming amount of money to stand in one place with her clothes on (the ad had been very specific that while there would be an outfit provided, it was modest), she wasn’t about to complain.

Her friends had been on her case about applying. She’d always wanted to be a model, but she wasn’t model material. She was in that nebulous middle-point, Far too big to be a classic fashion model, but still too small to be an acceptable plus-size model. And she didn’t hate her body by any means. So she let them nag her into it. She’d sent what the flier asked for. Her name (preferred, even, not even her wallet name) and then a headshot and a full body shot. She’d tried to be as confident as she could while her friends took photos for her, but even now, having landed the job, she was nervous.

What if he was a creep? Art students could be anyone really, and…

The door opened to reveal a man in wire-frame glasses with teal hair and eyes and a warm smile. Wait a minute… 

“V?!” Hen had studied his pictures for one of her photography classes, they’d done a unit on current artists, and…

He chuckled looking chagrined. “Call me Jihyun, please.” He led her inside and shut the studio door again before continuing. “V did photos. I’m… well, I’ve moved on from that and I’m pursuing painting, which has been my passion far longer, though I didn’t have the guts to change mediums until recently.”

“Oh.” Hen said, just as awkwardly as she felt. “I didn’t mean to be rude, I…”

“Not rude.” Jihyun interrupted. “I was V. I am still, technically, that same man. I simply am using my given name now.” 

He sighed, and shook himself loose from whatever thought seemed to be plaguing him. “We got off on the wrong foot.” He held out his hand for her to shake. “Hi, I’m Jihyun Kim, the artist who will be painting you for the next few hours.”

She took his hand with a grin and a firm shake. “I’m Hen. And I’m very good at standing still.”

The outfit that he’d chosen for her to wear was very fantasy. Flowing skirts, a corseted belt over a lightweight top. She felt like a peasant girl in a magic world, and she loved it. He’d positioned her standing at a window, and she’d gotten to people-watch campus while he painted her. She’d expected a need to be quiet or mostly still, but he told her to go ahead and fidget if she needed to, and kept her engaged in a number of different light topics as he worked, almost as though he was trying to keep her entertained.

Eventually, as the light was waning, Jihyun stood. “Alright, that’s time. Thank you so much for all of your help today.” He smiled. “Do you need assistance with the belt or anything else getting back out of the costume?”

Hen waved him off. “Nah, I’m good. Give me two shakes and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Once she was back to her normal self, she was sad to see that Jihyun had already closed up his work, so that she couldn’t see it. He immediately spotted her looking, however.

“I’ll show you when it’s done. I was intending to invite you to whatever gallery it shows in, of course, as the model.”

Hen grinned. “It would be my honor!”

Jihyun handed her the envelope containing her payment, all smiles. “Honestly, Miss Hen, you’re an amazing model. May I call on you again for another piece? Same terms, but the next one likely won’t be standing.”

Hen nodded, she’d had a great time, and the pay was definitely worth it. “I’d love to.” She said, honestly. “I enjoyed today!”

Jihyun nodded, and they parted ways. Hen couldn’t help but smile, her friends were going to be so surprised when she told them she might even get a callback.

The second time that Hen stood as a model for Jihyun had her sitting on a bench in an awkward position. It was uncomfortable at first, but she made it work. Eventually, Jihyun admitted to her that the piece involved the woman sitting in a tree, but he couldn’t justify making her sit somewhere ostensibly dangerous for hours on end, so he’d made the bench setup like the branch he had in mind. Once he explained that to her, she found it much easier to settle into a pose that was actually useful for him.

She may have caught him grumbling to himself about wasting less time if he could just trust her more. She didn’t blame him, of course, Artists were often secretive, and she knew it was hard to trust someone you didn’t really know. Goodness knows she’d only met this man twice and definitely didn’t trust him with anything personal, so she didn’t blame him. Not even a little.

When the time was up and Jihyun started cleaning up, Hen realized she was stiff as she changed back out of the costume. 

“Hey, Jihyun, do you mind if I do some stretches on the floor here before I head out? I’m a little bit stiff.”

“Ah. Go right ahead. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. Your stiffness is the consequence of my art, after all.

Hen sank to the ground, grateful that she’d worn leggings today instead of jeans. She worked her way through some yoga poses, careful of the fact that she didn’t have a mat of any variety, only realizing she was humming as she finished the last of the stretches because of Jihyun’s quiet chuckle.

“I’m glad you’re so comfortable in my studio.” He said, chuckling. 

Hen blushed even as she nodded. “You make it easy, Jihyun. This is by far the highlight of my week.”

“Even with the odd held poses?” He was surprised.

“Even so.” Hen nodded. “I’d be honored if you wanted to call me in again.”

Jihyun smiled so brightly at that, Hen couldn’t help but smile in return.

The next sitting was more stereotypical, and Hen couldn’t hold back her giggles as Jihyun helped her pose in a very Ancient Grecian looking gauzy dress while half-laying on a chaise lounge.

“What is it?”

“It’s just… if you told someone they were going to model for a painting, they’d probably imagine something like this.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Yes, I suppose it might be. I hope that the outcome of the painting far exceeds my pedestrian posing layouts.

“I’m certain it will.” Hen had no doubts that the man had an impressive artistic eye - his photographs were stunning enough that she’d written an entire paper on them her freshman semester of college. Sure, her major had nothing to do with art, but one didn’t see one of V’s photos and not know the man was gifted. “If nothing else, Jihyun, it’s fine to have one simpler piece in a collection.”

He chuckled, and Hen settled in to hold her position. It was surprisingly comfortable, and she knew it wasn’t going to be too difficult, especially because he was good about giving her breaks.

For the first time in their sessions, Jihyun was quiet and focused on the painting, which gave Hen time to think about everything going on in her classes, in life, in that book she was reading… eventually she started to feel sleepy. She knew she should say something, get up and take a walk, get some water, anything so that she didn’t cause a problem for Jihyun.

Instead, she found herself drifting off to sleep while watching him paint with the most blissfully calm look on his face that she’d ever seen on another human being.

What felt like a blink and also an eternity later, Hen woke to the soft shake of a shoulder, Jihyun crouched down next to her.

“Hey, Miss Hen.”

She startled, coming to consciousness all at once. “Oh, no, Jihyun! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep!”

“It’s alright, you held the pose I needed, and you just looked so happy I couldn’t bear to wake you. Good dreams, I hope?”

Hen shook her head, holding a hand to her chest to will her heart to calm down from its momentary panic. “No dreams. One minute I was watching you paint, and the next you were waking me up. I feel insanely well rested though. Probably going to be up late tonight.” She chuckled.

“Hm, I should have been responsible and woken you.” He sighed, but continued before Hen could argue. “Would you let me take you to dinner as an apology?”

“What time is it?” Hen asked, sitting up properly so she could stretch the sleep out of her bones.

“Just about six.” Jihyun said, backing up to give her space.

“I could do dinner, I don’t have any other plans.” She said, and the smile that bloomed across his face warmed her soul. Yeah, she’d do a lot just to see that smile more.

Dinner was lovely. They went to a little hole-in-the-wall bibimbap restaurant that seemed to know Jihyun well, but wasn’t so expensive as to make Hen feel out of place. It was even on an easy bus route home again, so she wasn’t even particularly going out of her way, either.

They chatted over dinner about this and that, nothing important, the same calm, cheerful kinds of conversations that they usually had while he was painting. That just cemented for Hen that Jihyun was just like that and he wasn’t just chatting to keep her from getting bored. It made her wonder why he wasn’t chatty during their session today, but by the time they got to a break in conversation where she might have asked, she’d already forgotten.

When the bill came, Hen snatched it away before Jihyun could pick it up, and handed the whole bill to their waitress - a granny who she suspected was simply the owner of the place - with a smile. The granny even turned a look on Jihyun like she was surprised he was letting her pay. Jihyun looked stunned. “Hen, you don’t need to buy my dinner.”

“But I want to.” She smiled. “We’re friends, now, right?”

Jihyun smiled in that way that made her feel alight, and she blushed and fidgeted with her hoodie strings. By the time she realized it, the granny had gone and come back… and she was only paying for her half of dinner. Jihyun smirked at her, and Hen wondered if she’d been played. As they packed up to leave, Jihyun’s phone started ringing, and his face took on an ominous look.

“Sorry, you head on home, I have to take this… and it might be awhile.”

Hen nodded and waved, waving again to the granny on her way out.

That had been a fun dinner. She hoped his phone call wasn’t too painful.

It had been a few months since Hen sat for Jihyun, and almost as long since she’d heard from the man. She’d thought it was Fate when they met and hit it off that well, even just professionally, but then he’d disappeared. Hen tried to convince herself that it was fine, but at this point even she would admit she was moping. She really enjoyed his company, and couldn’t help but feel like she’d done something wrong. Had accepting his dinner invitation been too forward? But she’d even paid for her own meal… Hen had been worrying about this, of course, for weeks now, with only her coursework to keep her mind occupied and off of her presumed faux pas, whatever it might be. And unfortunately, winter break had just started so she had an entire month to mope about and worry about a problem with no guarantee of resolution.

At least she had her favorite coffee shop to curl up and read in. She usually got tea, but today she splurged on an extra sugary coffee drink, and the woman behind the counter chuckled. “Am I celebrating with you or commiserating, Hen?”

“Ugh.” Hen grumbled. 

“Commiserating it is!” The woman behind the counter quietly put an extra pump of caramel into the drink - Hen didn’t comment, not sure if it was intentional, but she wasn’t going to turn down more caramel goodness.

An hour or so later, Hen’s reading was interrupted by someone sitting down across from her. She ignored them for a moment, but when they didn’t move she put her bookmark in and looked up, only to let out a surprised squeak as she realized the person sitting there was none other than Jihyun, patiently waiting for her to pause.

Before she could say anything, the woman behind the counter appeared and set a coffee down in front of him. “Don’t scare away my regulars, Jihyun.” She said sternly, then returned behind the counter.

Before Hen could say anything, Jihyun immediately spoke up.

“I’m so glad that I found you.” He winced. “I threw my phone in the ocean in a fit of temper. Did you know that there is such a thing as backing up your contacts? I… did not do this thing. And as such, I had to simply hope to run into you. It took some time.”

He slid a brand new phone across the table to her. “My friend set it up so I can’t do that again, even if I do something as stupid as throwing my phone into the ocean again. May I have your number again?”

Hen sighed, and immediately added herself as a contact. “So you’re saying you didn’t respond to my texts not because you were upset with me, but because you didn’t know who they were from?” She looked over at her phone as the message she sent herself pinged in as an unknown number.

Jihyun had the grace to look embarrassed. “I needed a new number.”

“Did something happen?” Hen added his new number to her contacts, and changed the old one to read “Davy Jones’ Locker”, just in case some fish tried to text her later.

Jihyun sighed. “The unreasonable unbelievable drama that is my life simply continues to happen.” He took a sip of his drink and sighed happily. Jaehee could really make a mean latte.

Hen chuckled. “Everyone’s got some weird rats in their closet, I swear. I’m glad you reappeared, I was worried.”

“You were?” His eyes lit up for a moment, but then dimmed. “I’m sorry, Miss Hen. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Hey, it’s fine, you reappeared before I could mope myself into a corner.”

“Why would you be moping?” Jihyun was clearly confused.

“Well, I mean, I bullied my way into paying for my own dinner and then you disappeared. I was sure I’d said something stupid, or maybe that I shouldn’t have gone to dinner.”

“God, no, Hen. That dinner was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, I just had to leave for a trip the next morning…”

“His not wanting you to pay is just some misplaced chivalry.” The counter lady said, stopping by to leave a to-go cup refill of Hen’s coffee. “This one’s on the house. For celebrating this time, and for putting up with him.” She winked, and Jihyun looked scandalized.

“Jaehee! Are you buying my… are you buying Hen’s loyalty with coffee now?”

The woman - Jaehee apparently - cackled. “Yes.” The look she was wearing told Hen that she had no idea what their relationship was, and was assuming all kinds of things that Hen didn’t want to have to be the one to dissuade her from.

“Listen…” Jihyun took a deep breath. “Between the trip and needing to find you back, I’m way behind on painting work, and the gallery’s already booked. You wouldn’t happen to be… staying in town for winter break? I could book you… a lot… if you had time.” He looked like he expected her to say no, like he was already letting himself down before she could.

“I’m so game.” she said, laughing awkwardly. “I have, well, nothing going on for the next month until classes start up again.”

“No family events, or friend things, or…” Jihyun looked surprised. 

“Nope. Just lil ol me and my TBR.”

“TBR?”

“To Be Read. All the books I haven’t read this past semester because of classwork.”

Jihyun laughed at his own expense. “I should have known what that was. Fair, fair. Um.” He took a deep breath. “So, I can’t use my campus studio during break. Would you be okay coming to my apartment? It’s safe, I promise, and if you don’t feel safe you can leave, I won’t be upset.” Hen nodded, but winked at him before calling out to Jaehee behind the counter. “Hey Jaehee, can I trust this guy?”

Jihyun paled as though he had no idea what Jaehee would say.

“With your life.” Jaehee responded, without a pause. “But if you need an emergency text check-in hit me up before you leave.” Something relaxed in Jihyun, and Hen wondered if he’d let her give him a hug, but the moment was lost when he stood and bussed her empty mug.

Jihyun’s apartment was the 79th floor of an 80-floor high rise building. The entire 79th floor. Well, apparently his apartment was half of it and the other half was studio space, but still. She went directly to the windows and looked out over downtown, her eyes shining when she looked back at him.

“Jihyun, we should have done that first painting here…. this is such a great view!!” The painter smiled. “I’m glad you think that, actually… because I was hoping to do a triptych of that one, and so I’d need you to stand for two more at windows, and, well…”

He looks so nervous! Hen thought, and smiled, shaking her head and then nodding.

“Listen, Jihyun. I will sit for you to paint as often as you need me this month, as long as I don’t starve to death, and get to sleep properly.”

“That’s a low bar. I’m still going to pay you. Same rates. Also, since we’re not on campus I’m covering at least one meal a sitting. No arguments or pulling what you did at Yu’s!”

Hen blushed. “I still think it was only fair.”

Jihyun laughed, and walked over to a closet. “So, this closet has the outfits for the other…” he winced. “Four paintings I have in mind.”

“That’s only like one a week, do you have other obligations? We both already know I don’t.”

Jihyun chuckled. “Well, I can get the part of the work I need you modeling for done in our usual 6-hour blocks, so we could do those, say… every other day? That should give me plenty of time for finishing work on all of them and still be able to get them to the gallery on time.”

“Do you want to start today, since I’m here?”

Jihyun looked at the clock. “Only if you let me buy lunch and take you to dinner after.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Kim.” He raised an eyebrow, and she relented. “Yes, okay, okay. I want to see your gallery look good. I don’t know why you’re not the one begging here.”

Jihyun blinked. “I… really should be, shouldn’t I? You’re too good to me, Miss Hen.”

“Just call me Hen. It’s already a nickname.”

“It is? No wonder I couldn’t find you.”

Hen laughed so hard she sat down abruptly on the floor. “Jihyun Kim. You seriously thought my given name was Hen. Like a chicken.”

“Yes. Why would I assume otherwise?”

Hen just made flustered hand motions while she laughed at him.

“It’s Henrietta.” She said, once she could breathe properly. “Henrietta Chatham.”

“I like Hen better.” Jihyun said through a pout.

“Me too! That’s why I introduce myself that way! If you start calling me Miss Henrietta, I’ll quit.”

“Please don’t.” Jihyun said, helping her up off the floor. “Hen.”

She blushed at their proximity, and turned toward the closet so he wouldn’t notice. “So, which outfit first?”

Jihyun pulled out an outfit that was leggings and a leotard and a cropped leather jacket. “Cyberpunk? Or 80s Workout?” She asked, and as usual he gave her a shrug. No insight from the artist. No hints. No spoilers. She would get to see the paintings at the gallery opening with everyone else, and no sooner.

Hen was changing back into her regular clothes when she heard a knock at the door. Grateful that this wasn’t her house and thus she was spared from needing to rush to get clothes on and the inevitable falling over that would come with it, Hen simply continued at her leisurely undressing and redressing pace… which also meant she was able to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Ah, good evening, Jihyun.” A warm baritone that matched V’s friendly tenor practically sang into the apartment.

“Jumin. Good to see you well. What can I help you with?”

“Miss Kang told me you found your muse.”

“I did. At Jaehee’s coffee shop, no less. I owe her.”

Muse? Does he consider me his Muse?? Hen felt her cheeks heat as she considered what that meant, if it meant anything. She hurried a little bit faster to get herself put back together.

“Well, I suppose you shouldn’t have any problems getting five more pieces done in time for the gallery opening, assuming she’s amenable to sitting for more paintings?”

She heard Jihyun laugh as she opened the bathroom door and made her way over to the costume closet without even glancing at the door.

“I’d say she is, we already got one session in today.” His volume changed as he turned and called out to her. “Hen, come over here when you’re done there, would you?”

She turned, surprised to see that Jihyun’s guest was in a three-piece suit, albeit one decorated with white cat fur.

“Hi.” She said, holding out a hand. “I’m Hen.”

He shook her hand, professional to a T. “Jumin Han.” Then, he turned back to Jihyun. “You should tell Luciel you’ve found her so he stops sending photos of random chickens to the chat and asking if they’re her. He’s been at it for approximately two hours now.”

Hen couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. “Seriously?! Will you show me? We can pick which chicken looks most like me.”

JIhyun smiled that smile she loved so much. “We can look over dinner.” He turned to Jumin. “Would you like to join us? We’re going out for barbecue.”

Jumin shook his head. “Elizabeth is waiting for me. But thank you. Maybe next time.”

They watched as he turned and went back to the elevator and rode it…up. “He lives above you?” Hen asked, as they waited for the elevator to return for them to take it down instead.

“Yes.” Jihyun said with a smile. “We were childhood friends, Jumin and I.”

“And now?”

“Still friends. Less so children.”

Hen giggled, and tried to keep herself from thinking of this dinner as a date. It was just.. a work dinner.

The rest of the week flew by, and before Hen knew it she was back on her own, her sittings were all done and now she had all the free time in the world to get her reading done, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Jihyun. She hadn’t really been being honest with herself about him, it seemed, but now that she had some time to think clearly, it was plain as day. She was in love with the painter. He made her smile and laugh in a way no one else had. None of her previous partners even held a candle to the way he made her feel.

Sure, she might be his muse, not that he’d said as much to her even after she’d heard Jumin say it, but regardless… that was an art thing, not a personal thing. And now that this collection was done, other than the gallery opening he’d wanted her to come to, she may not ever see him again. Hen sighed, and like clockwork, her phone started ringing. Who called these days? Oh. It was Jihyun!

“Hey Jihyun!”

“Hi… I have… a selfish request.”

“Shoot.”

“I need your help. I’m trying to get all the finishing work done and for the life of me I cannot focus. I thought maybe getting someone to body double for me would help, but all of my friends are normal boring adults with day jobs. Jumin offered his cat, but she’s white and a mischief and I do not think that would be a good idea around all the paint…”

“Jihyun. Slow down. Calm down, it’s okay. What do you actually need from me?”

“Come and sit here and hang out? You can bring your books. I know you were eyeing that oversized chair, I’ll clear it out so you can relax. Maybe… get coffee from Jaehee’s on the way? I’ll pay you back, I swear, I… Hell, I’ll even pay your sitting fee just to chill with me for the day.”

“Jihyun! That’s not how friendship works! You don’t need to pay me to hang out with you. But you can take me to dinner. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Peppermint! Bye!” She hung up to the sound of his laughter, and if she wasn’t about to walk through his door with two coffees and a tote bag full of paperbacks to devour, she’d hate to end the call. Yeah. She had it bad.

Hen knocked on Jihyun’s door in the most inelegant fashion possible: with her forehead. She’d considered kicking it, but that would have sloshed the coffees too much.

Of course, Jihyun opened by her third knock, and instead she stumbled forward a step when her head met air.

“Were you knocking with your head?”

“Shhh.”

“Nooo. Your poor face.”

“I said shhhhh.” She allowed him to take his coffee, and laughed when she spotted the oversized chair in her usual posing space. “I’m modeling my dumb reading faces for you today.”

“I told you I’d pay your sitting fee.” He winked at her when she blustered, and instead she blushed. “What? You’re going to be sitting!”

“You. Are a brat.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“What, your RFA Friends?” She said, thinking back to the chatroom entirely full of chicken photos.

“Only ones I’ve got.”

“You’ve got me!” Hen argued, and Jihyun turned a look on her that she couldn’t decipher, not even paired with the radiant smile.

“You’re different. You’re my Muse, Hen.”

“Well, you’re my… artist… i guess.. there’s not a good word for that. I’m sticking with friend.” She grinned at him, and he laughed. 

“Well, get to reading, Muse, I better get myself actually working so you didn’t come here for no reason.”

Hen settled and then realized the scale of the canvas he was currently working on. 

“Damn, Jihyun, that’s huge. Is it the centerpiece?”

“It is!”

“And you still won’t let me sneak a peek?”

“Of course not! and ruin the effect of the collection as a whole on opening night? Never.”

“I’m still invited to that?”

“Of course. You’re my muse. You’re my plus one.”

Hen saw the chance and had to ask… to save herself heartbreak down the road.

“What, no boyfriend? I was sure you and Jumin had--”

“No.” He cut her off. “I’m single, Hen. Have been since… well. Everything.”

“You’ll have to tell me about that someday, you know? I hate walking into landmines that just hurt your feelings.”

“You’re right. I should. Maybe over dinner?”

They spent the day in quiet companionship. Every now and again Hen would laugh at something that happened in her book, or absolutely have to read part of something to Jihyun because it was just written way too well.

They took a break for lunch, Jihyun had ordered sandwiches while she was still wrapped up in the most recent book.

“Your reading speed is ridiculous.”

“Jihyun. I’m in law school. Of course it’s ridiculous.”

“…I keep forgetting that. You’re so nice.”

“Sometimes lawyers are nice.”

“My lived experience begs to differ.”

“Hm.” Time to change the subject so that he could get back to work and not just spill everything now. “You’re going to tell me about that over dinner you said. Any ideas where you want to take me?”

Jihyun blinked for a moment, and then shrugged. “I was thinking Sushi?”

“I do not know if I am dressed well enough to go out for sushi, but…”

“I was thinking about a local place that has all you can eat sushi. No dress code. Plenty of time to sit and talk about difficult subjects in an informal environment.”

“Oh. Well then. You will be surprised at how much sushi I can eat.”

“With my friends, I don’t get surprised by much anymore.”

“And since then, she’s been in Alaska, at an inpatient rehabilitation center.”

“Jesus. That was… you? We discussed the situation in one of my classes while it was ongoing.” 

“Yes, I’m not surprised, it was a clusterfuck.”

Hen reached her hand out across the table to take Jihyun’s, heedless of how forward she was being. The man needed comfort.

“That’s a lot of stress, Jihyun.”

Jihyun sighed, but didn’t move his hand out from under hers, a choice that Hen chose to take as a positive sign.

“It was, but it’s over. Now I can move on and be better. To myself. To my friends.”

They paused to eat more of the sushi in front of them, when something he said suddenly connected for Hen.

“You said she’s in Alaska… is that when you ‘lost’ your phone?”

Jihyun chuckled. “When I threw it into the ocean. Yeah. We were still engaged when she was sentenced, and I hadn’t woken up at the hospital yet, so they put me down as one of her guardians. She was demanding to see me since I was on her paperwork… I had to go there in person to get my name removed.”

“Oh because that was safe and healthy for your trauma…” Hen muttered grumpily.

Jihyun nodded. “Exactly. Anyway, once I left, she started texting me begging me to come back, and… I just… I needed to be free of her. Of all that. I’d managed to put myself back together in the two years since and I couldn’t go back to that mental place. So I chucked my phone off of the side of the ferry. ‘Oops’. My only regret is losing your contact information in the process. Why did we never email?”

Hen shook her head with a low chuckle. “Hubris. I don’t know. I’m just glad you found me back. I was really worried I’d done something to upset you.”

“Well, I do wish you’d let me buy you dinner. Grandma Yu teases me to this day about ruining that date.”

Date? Hen must have thought about it for a minute too long, because Jihyun was rushing past the statement like he’d never made it.

“You’re not buying dinner tonight. This is my gift in return for you sharing your day with me.”

Hen nodded. “The chat with the chickens - that was those friends?”

“The very same.”

“I hope I get to meet them someday.”

“They’ll be at the gallery. Maybe… don’t wear feathers.”

Hen laughed so hard she aspirated her tea. “Jihyun!! What should I wear?!”

Leaving the restaurant, Hen realized this would be a perfect time to tell Jihyun how she felt. He deserved to know. She deserved to be let down in a nice quiet parking lot, not in front of however many people at the gallery showing. And since that was the last time she was likely to see him, well, she chose now.

“Jihyun, I…”

He reached out and held a finger to her lips, stopping her from talking.

“I know what you’re going to say. Can you wait until after you see the paintings? Please?”

Hen blinked. He wanted her to wait to confess until after the gallery? That was exactly the opposite of what she wanted.

What she was thinking must have shown on her face.

“I promise I will hear you out. I will give you privacy if you want it. But I need you to see… what I see… first.”

Hen sighed and nodded, and only then did he move his finger.

As her bus pulled up to the stop, Jihyun smiled at her. “See you at the gallery.”

“Yeah.” she forced a smile onto her face. “See you Saturday.”

The entire ride home, Hen let the tears silently track down her cheeks. He was going to turn her down, she knew it. He’d known she was going to confess. How many people had fallen for him while modeling? How many women had he turned down? Had he known since he came back from Alaska? Had he known before she did?

He’d had probably the worst relationship experience on the planet, there was no way he’d be interested in trying something. It wasn’t even that there was anything wrong with her, just that with everything he’d been through…

Hen sighed. She was thinking in circles. She should have known better than to fall for anyone. It’s not like her dating history was stellar either. She wiped the tears from her face as her bus arrived at her stop and she started walking home. She would be the best possible muse at this gallery opening. The belle of the ball. Maybe they could stay friends, if she didn’t make a complete mess of everything. She’d like that.

Hen had gone all-out for the gallery opening. She’d secretly talked to Jaehee at the cafe about what the dress code would actually be like, so she wouldn’t embarrass anyone, and the woman had actually volunteered to go shopping with her. Hen turned her down, but they exchanged numbers so Hen could send photos if she needed advice. She felt like she needed to do this herself.

Eventually she found what she needed. A navy blue and black jacquard dress, with an off-the shoulder sweetheart neckline and a subtle high low hem, from knees to tea length. The neckline showed a lot of skin, but a shawl would temper it, especially with her hair in loose curls over one shoulder.

Hair and makeup were easy. She knew how to put on a flawless face, it was practically a requirment with law school. Her favorite jewelry - understated sapphire earrings and a matching pendant on silver chain - finished the look. With a pair of short black suede ankle boots, a cashmere shawl, and her wool coat, she was prepared for a gallery opening in mid-January. Hopefully Jaehee hadn’t steered her wrong. She wouldn’t know what to do if she were dressed improperly. Both overdressed and underdressed were a possibility here, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous.

“You’ve really outdone yourself, Jihyun, these pieces are magnificent.”

Hen stepped into the gallery, slightly early for the actual opening, but Jihyun had requested her to be early to meet his friends. The entrance to the room was slightly raised, and had an unimpeded view of the collection. She could hear people talking, but she had eyes only for the art on display. She recognized all of the pieces along the edges from her sittings. First the triptych, Three pieces, one looking left out a window toward a historical setting, one looking right out a window in a cyberpunk-esque future setting (she knew that’s what that outfit was!), and the third looking straight out a window into a modern wartorn landscape.

“I see why you wouldn’t show us any of them early.”

The one where she’d been posing on the bench like it was a tree seemed to be robin hood? Or maybe hunger games? Either way, very stealthy, she loved the look of it. Opposite that was the grecian chaise lounge scene… he’d actually painted her asleep?! Jihyun! She internally scolded him. He could have just asked her to pretend to be asleep. Brat.

“Imagine if he hadn’t found his muse back!”

Her favorite so far had been the hardest pose to hold for the time he’d needed - a sword-weilding maiden from chinese folklore. It actually showed her in three distinct poses, as though in motion, and she stared at it for a long time. The last had her crumpled on the floor in front of a grave, hair in her face, soaked by rain. She’d remembered that - he’d asked her if she’d be willing to go stand in the shower in the giant pile of organza. She’d gotten the entire studio wet. It had been a riot.

“You did five of these just this month? You’re a madman, V… I mean Jihyun.”

But it wasn’t until she focused on the centerpiece - the only one she hadn’t posed for - that she realzied that none of the women in the paintings were actually her. She’d posed for them, but they had different hairstyles, different facial features, like she was playing characters instead of being herself.

“Jihyun, this collection is radiant. If it’s this good, then your muse must be exquisite.”

The centerpiece was actually a painting of her, done the last day she’d been in his studio, sitting ridiculously sideways in that oversized chair engrossed in her book, but instead of it being in his studio it was in a vast library. She couldn’t help but laugh when she realized how many hints he’d tried to give her that she was in fact sitting for another painting. He’d clearly wanted her to be herself. God she loved him.

She looked down, then, to where Jihyun was standing surrounded by a small group of people… all of whom were looking up at her. Of them, she recognized Jaehee from the coffee shop and Jumin his upstairs neighbor / childhood friend. There were also two gingers who could be twins, a girl with long brown fringe and even longer hair, a blonde with dark roots, and a … was that Zen?! Huh. He wasn’t kidding about the eclectic group of friends he had.

Jihyun held out a hand to beckon her over, and she made her way down the stairs and over to the group. Jihyun took her around the group; Jaehee, the owner/operator of the coffee shop she frequented. Jumin, his best friend from childhood and Director of C&R International. Saeyoung and Saeran, the computer-savvy twins. MC, the insightful party planner. Yoosung, the newly-minted Veterinarian. Zen, also known as Hyun, the actor.

“And I’m the model.” She shook her head. “I mean law student.” She smirked at Jihyun who laughed. She didn’t miss the surprised looks from his friends at the sound of his laugh. She was right. This man needed to smile and laugh more. If she could give that to him, she would gladly — no, that was a lie - she would accept simply being his friend. “You sell yourself short.” Jihyun said, a soft smile flickering into place. “This is Hen. My muse. My friend. I hope you can all get along well.”

“Don’t worry, Jihyun. We’ll take care of your girl when you inevitably get pulled away by boring rich guys.” One of the twins - Saeyoung, she thought, gold eyes - said with a smirk. 

After the introductions, the RFA scattered around the room as other patrons of the arts started to filter in, the official start time having passed. Jihyun held his arm out for her like a proper gentleman. “You look absolutely stunning tonight, Hen.” He said with that smile she loved so much.

“Thank you.” She felt her cheeks heat and willed herself to calm down. This was his show. “I didn’t want to make you look bad. Not after you made me look so good.” She gestured to the biggest piece of art in the room, and he had the grace to look embarrassed.

“I should have been up front and asked for your permission, but I wanted to paint you naturally, not posing. I’m sorry I lied to you, Hen.”

Hen shook her head. “You didn’t lie to me, Jihyun. You left so many crumbs, I could have assembled an entire loaf of bread from how much you were afraid to surprise me with this. Hell, you even offered to pay me a sitting fee just to hang out with you. The fact that I was still surprised is more on me than it is on you!”

“I’m still going to pay you for that.”

Hen smirked. They’d had this back and forth so many times, she couldn’t help but kick it up a notch.

“You could pay me back with a kiss.” She said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Jihyun not only sputtered trying to respond to her in any fashion, he even stopped walking.

Hen turned to apologize to him, just in time to see Jihyun school his features and hold his arm out properly again. Great, now you’ve done it, Hen. If he wasn’t going to turn you down before, he definitely is now.

Moments later, a group of men walked up and started talking to Jihyun about his works, and Hen tuned in so that she could respond to any questions asked of her. There weren’t any, of course, she was arm candy and most of them probably hadn’t even noticed that she was the woman pictured in the art.

Eventually, the event was in full swing, and Jihyun went up to the landing to talk about the art a bit. He told a story about a woman who loved to read more than anything, and her trips of imagination through storybooks. He talked about how the collection was about escapism through fiction, and how the modern world has made even fictional war more glamorous than our day-to-day slog through capitalism. 

He introduced her to the assembled patrons as his muse, the beautiful law student who deigned to stand, sit and otherwise pose for long hours just so that he might put some paint on canvas. There was nothing in his description about their friendship, or the bond they’d formed, simply a focus on a beautiful woman who inspired his art. He even kept her name out of it, kept her away from being associated with his art in any way but visually.

Hen was more certain than ever that this would be the last night she would see Jihyun. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him how she felt. Maybe it would be better to pretend that she wasn’t feeling any of this. After his talk, Jihyun passed her off to Saeyoung to walk through the gallery while he was accosted by too many people all at once, just as they’d predicted. 

Hen looked around for the rest of his friends, and couldn’t help but notice MC snuggled up to the other twin. “Those two are cute together.” She said discreetly, and Saeyoung laughed. 

“They are. They’ve been dating for a few years now.”

“Aww, that’s just too sweet.”

“You mean like you and Jihyun?”

Hen laughed bitterly. “I wish.”

“Oh come on, Hen, I’ve only known you for a few hours and—“

“I didn’t realize I was that obvious.” She chuckled ruefully at her own hubris. “He stopped me from confessing, Saeyoung. I don’t stand a chance with someone like him.”

Saeyoung sighed. “I think you’re selling yourself short. You’re good for him, Hen. I haven’t heard him laugh like that in… a very long time.”

Saeyoung’s words stuck with Hen the rest of the night, even as she was bounced between the other members of the RFA. Just as she was thinking she’d hit her limit for socialization for one night, and thought she might try to find Jihyun to say goodbye before heading out, the man found her himself, a hand at her elbow leading her away from the crowd.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get much time together tonight.” He said, turning her to face him, his hands gently circling her, keeping her close enough that their quiet voices wouldn’t carry.

“All those hours with me in your studio, I’m sure you had more than enough of me.”

“Never!” He said with a laugh. “What you were going to say the other night…”

Hen blushed, and bit her lip. Her confidence was gone. Her willingess to have her heart trampled had gone with it. “Jihyun, I…”

“Hen, I’m in love with you.” Jihyun interrupted, and Hen was suddenly very aware of how he was shaking.

“You…”

“I know, it’s inappropriate. I tried to be good, but I couldn’t have you end everything before you at least got to see the gallery and—“

Hen reached out and put her finger against his lips to silence him. “Jihyun. Me too.”

His eyes went wide, but she didn’t move her finger, and he didn’t attempt to say anything.

“I was so sure you were going to turn me down when I tried to confess after sushi.” She moved her hand away then, anxiously twisting her fingers together.

“Wait, you meant—“

She nodded, cursing the tears beading up in her eyes. “And then when you kept me out of your speech except the fact that I was standing there, I..”

“I wanted to keep your bright future from being tainted by my questionable past, is all.”

“We’re idiots, aren’t we? ”

He nodded. “Complete idiots, but at least we’re together.”

“We have got to learn to communicate better. No more throwing phones in the ocean.”

They shared a laugh, and Hen knew, then, that everything was finally going to be alright.

“Hey, let’s get out of here.” Jihyun said, that smile she loved so much lighting his face. “Jumin can handle the cleanup and closing.” He looked over her shoulder and she felt him shake with silent laughter.

Hen followed his line of sight to where Jumin was standing with Saeyoung, the former nodding discreetly while the latter made hand motions as if shooing them away. She giggled. “Okay, Jihyun Kim, I will allow you to drive me home.”

The ride home was silent, but it was a calm introspective kind of silence, rather than an anxious uncomfortable one. Hen, of course, was warring with herself internally about what she wanted to do with her night. She was reminded, as they pulled into her parking area, that she didn’t have to make these choices alone anymore.

“Do you want to come up for tea?” Hen asked quietly, fidgeting with the ends of her shawl in lieu of her usual sweatshirt strings.

“I would love to.” Jihyun said, just as softly.

She led him through the building to her lofty third-floor apartment, where she stepped out of her shoes and set about getting tea started. She set the mugs on the counter and opened the tea cabinet. When she turned to ask Jihyun what kind of tea he wanted, he was right behind her, and she startled. 

“Oh, hello there.” She said with an awkward giggle.

“Hi, Hen.” He said, leaning into her space. “May I kiss you?”

She nodded even as she felt the blush on her cheeks, and moments later his lips were on hers, and her arms were looped around his neck, holding him close. When they broke for air, they both laughed before moving toward each other again.

“What about the tea?” She asked, softly, afraid to break the spell.

“I… don’t need tea.” 

[chejuu]

20 questions for writers

thank you @wingdingery for the tag and excuse to self-indulgently talk about myself <3

1. how many works do you have on AO3? 17 on cheju, then 11 more on my various and sundry accounts 🫣

2. what's your total AO3 word count? 73,122 on cheju, a total of 110,145

3. what fandoms do you write for? nightwing + some original work as of late + various fandoms i used to be in that people request in fic exchanges

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos? like two days ago bad desire just surpassed the kudos of a ten-year-old sansa/margaery fic i published on my old account. wow! please ignore that i was writing smut at 16

setting aside my other accounts, then it’s diesis (smut), listen to teeth (smut), sex, lies, and audiotape (mafia au. also smut), and exactly what it looks like (silly identity porn crack)

5. do you respond to comments? always!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? down together leaves it open but probably fits the bill, in that the sex makes things significantly worse between slade and dick

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Rescued Slut Thanks His Studly Savior is established relationship sladick fluff (if pure smut can be fluff i guess) which i thought i would never write so maybe that. or better now, but it's about theater camp (2023) which is already a feel-good comedy movie to begin with

8. do you get hate on fics? not yet. i feel like it's a rite of passage, tho. quick someone send me hate

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind? it’s like... all i do

10. do you write crossovers? no, but never saying never!

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? nope

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? i think i’d be too embarrassed

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? gotta be drarry (sorry sladick)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will? i plan to finish all my wips eventually, even the unpublished ones! at least any that have made it out of the notes app and into a word doc. the only one that maaay not make it is a recursive fic (author permission granted!) based on a popular sladick story—i’m a bit nervous about not living up to the original 🙈

16. What are your writing strengths? character voice, i think, and banter in particular. sexual tension, smut. so i've been told!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? i hardly write anything longer than a single scene, let alone more than one chapter. the one time i've given it an earnest go, i've gotten so caught up in the weeds that i haven't updated in months T_T

i'd also like to get better at atmosphere. not so much descriptions of the setting, more like... creating a distinctive tone through detail, metaphor, word choice. sometimes i feel like unless i'm writing a very particular setting, the tone is just. nonexistent?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i honestly have zero thoughts

19. First fandom you wrote for? harry potter when was 14. wow it even has an A/N and everything

20. Favourite fic you've written? i think it’s bad desire so i’m glad the people agree hahah 

-

tagging @lordwisteria @roipecheur @mattdillon @thesubtextis @ontheropesss !

[faneliansficaloh]

A Lifetime of Happiness

(Ch 1) (Ch 2) (Ch 3) (Ch 4) (Ch 5) (Ch 6) (Ch 7) (Ch 8) (Ch 9) (Ch 10) (Ch 11) (Ch 12) (Ch 13)

This is Chapter 14

Notes

----------

5 January 1818

Dear Penelope,

The New year celebrations have been very exultant. I hadn’t witnessed a rush like this since the news of Napoleon’s defeat. I never thought I’d share something in common with Napoleon, and a defeat, no less.

The court’s celebration of course included a ball, which ended much too late and had too much of everything. I think even too much music and too much dancing. I have become an old curmudgeon, but I was completely useless the following day, and that is not a state to be in when one has two little children in their household.

I have, however, met an interesting group of people from France, through the Viscount of Barca. It is comprised mainly of artists but there are also craftsmen, architects and engineers. It is rather interesting that they seem to be here in a sort of diplomatic endeavour based on the exchange of cultural contributions rather than the trade of goods or other political tactics. I have of course written to both Eloise (as the group includes some women) and Benedict to boast about it. Of course it only means these new acquaintances have made me miss them dearly. Do not tell them, they will only mock me if they know of my moment of weakness.

Have you made any new acquaintances in Surrey? I do not believe I know anyone there but you.

Give my regards to Portia. For some reason, whenever I remember Napoleon, she comes naturally to mind.

Yours, Colin.

1815 – Waterloo.

“Colin, we will be late for the Stephens” He lifted his head from his work to look at Marina who had entered his study. He then looked at the clock and realized time had flown by without his noticing.

“Marina, I’m sorry but you will have to go without me, I have work I must complete”

“Must you really? Cannot it wait until tomorrow?” Her tone was exasperated.

“I’m afraid not. I must have these documents fully translated in the morning”

She pursed her lips, annoyed and in a monotone uttered “People will start thinking you do not like me any more”

He chose to ignore that. He was not going and she did not want to stay, so there was nothing he could say to that. “I’m sure Lady Featherington will be there with her daughters, so you can join them” He was also sure that Lord Debling would be there, gravitating around Penelope. It was true that he needed to complete the work he was doing, but he was grateful for that. He did not desire to spend another evening watching that man succeed with her.

“I will give them all your regards, then” She said in a cold tone.

“Thank you!”

When the door finally closed, he tried to go back to work but was too distracted now.

He had decided he would not intervene any more. If Penelope truly wanted to marry, she should. He had made inquiries about Lord Debling and everything seemed to indicate he was a remarkable gentleman. He was a renowned naturalist who had published his work on the near extinction of a bird in Iceland, a baron with a vast estate and fortune, which apparently he himself had brought back to its former glory after some years of decline driven by the former Lord Debling many years ago. There were no sordid tales around his name, no unpaid debts or soured friendships. So by all accounts, there was no possible objection to be made to the match.

As for the other objection he had made, in his boorish attempt to dissuade her, that Lord Debling would not love her. Well, he regretted saying it. What did he know of love, when he had been fumbling around it his whole adult life? He failed to recognize it when it was right in front of him. The reality was that there was no doubt in Colin’s mind that the man would fall in love with Penelope, that he might already be indeed, because – why would any man with any sense that had the opportunity to be close to her, not love her? If he did not, then it was a clear indication that he wasn’t as great a man as everyone seemed to think him. It would make him an absolute idiot.

But she doesn’t love him a pernicious voice kept whispering, eating at him. It is her choice entirely was his weak response. He doesn’t know her like you do! Would the whisper claim, only to be silenced by the reality that he will have the rest of his life to get to know her better than you ever will.

So, to say that Colin had decided not to intervene was not entirely true. He had been persuaded both by Eloise’s warning that Miss Cowper had noticed his feelings for Penelope and by Lady Featherington gently reminding him of his place – at least as gently as she was capable of.

They had been at the Featherington house for dinner two nights ago. As they were vacating the dinning room Lady Featherington asked him to accompany her to the study.

“It would be a very fine thing for Penelope if she were able to secure her match with Lord Debling, would it not, Mr. Bridgerton?” She said as soon as the door was closed behind her.

“It would be a very fine thing for him, as well” He said tentatively, recognizing a trap.

“Yes, of course. He, however is a man and has the means to remain unattached and move on with his life with little consequence, whereas my daughter would be left standing on precarious circumstances if things did not go well”

“What do you mean precarious? Are you experiencing some kind of hardship?” Here he was again, all too eager to lend a saving hand.

“Mr. Bridgerton, I do need to ask you for a favour but it is not the sort of favour you might be thinking of. What we need from you is to simply stay away from Penelope.”

“I beg your pardon?” He was confused but still felt insulted.

“You may think, and perhaps not entirely without reason, that I do not pay attention to her. I will accept that lately and for too long, I have let other worries take my attention from the one daughter that had never given me a single reason to worry, but I do notice things, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“And what have you noticed exactly?”

“Let’s not play fools! I notice the way you look at her – the way you stare, and your general behaviour – why, you’re often more attentive to her than to your own wife. And please understand I am not making accusations, I am simply telling you what I have noticed and I’d like to think that I only have because I’ve been paying close attention. I can only hope no one else outside this household has as well.” He tried to speak but he could just let a scoff out and she raised her hands to stop him from trying to interrupt her “Whatever your intentions, however pure your thoughts and inadvertent your actions, the truth is you are hurting Penelope’s chances. Your closeness will only raise questions. If you really care for her and her happiness, you must see that it will be much better for her if you simply... stay away.”

“Forgive me, Lady Featherington if my conduct has seemed inappropriate at times. It is only because of my long friendship with your daughter and our connection through Marina that I have taken an interest in her well being and protection. It has never, of course, been my intention to damage her in any way, perceived or otherwise. But she truly is a very dear friend to me and my family, I will not simply cut her off, and I do not believe she would wish me to.”

She let out a deep sigh “My daughter’s wishes are often for far less than she deserves. And what kind of friend would get in the way of her chance at happiness? Perhaps your efforts would be better spent on securing the well being and protection of your wife. Penelope has me for hers, and believe me, I am as capable as any man at that.”

“Oh, I believe you capable of anything.” The insult did not escape Portia “If there is nothing else you wish to discuss, I will be taking my leave now.”

Portia held her head high “That is all”

“Good evening, then” His jaw clenched hard.

He had been so upset by the conversation that he asked a maid to let his wife know he was going home on his own, and walked all the way there. The most offensive part of the exchange had been that he knew Portia was right on all accounts, he was upset because he had been discovered, and by none other than Portia Featherington. His mother was right about her, she was far more clever than people gave her credit for – or he had been making a spectacle of himself. As Eloise’s warning about Cressida made evident it was probably the second, he had to accept that staying away was the best he could do.

He decided he needed to get back to work and stop thinking about it all. He finally found himself useful and would make the most of that, he’d pour himself into it so he’d have no time to think about anything or anyone else.

And it almost worked. After that unpleasant conversation, he had spent his days translating, reading and writing documents, socializing with diplomats and other civil servants away from the ballrooms, making himself useful at the ministry to the extent he could. And when there was no work left for the day, he would write in his journal. His fingers seemed permanently ink-stained and ached but it helped him feel some semblance of peace, for the first time in years. He started to feel like he had finally found a place of his own in the world.

The following week, though, two pieces of news took Mayfair high society by storm: That Wellington had defeated Napoleon in Waterloo, and that Miss Penelope Featherington was betrothed to Lord Debling. Colin found he only really cared for one of those things, and while the whole of London exploded in exuberant celebrations for the other, he was in no mood for celebrating anything at all.

Chapter 15

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Hi! Will you please answer 7 and 8 and then ONE of your choice of your questions?

I’m desperate for any sneak into your brain that you’ll give. 😌

Hi!! Heck yeah, I will! Thanks for sending these! And you know you can have sneaks whenever you want - in fact, I'm probably going to send you my half baked idea for a certain someone later tonight once I've let it rotate one more time on the rotisserie.

7- Is there a story you're planning to start the year working on? Want to tell us about it?

So I kind of talked about this a little bit already because I mentioned that there are a couple of ongoing series that I want to finish. But in terms of a new story? I think when I finish Recall I'm going to FINALLY get going on the Frankie Dog Rescue AU. Because come on. Francisco + Dogs = <3

What I can tell you about it is that post movie plot, Frankie decides that he needs a change of pace and starts an animal rescue, which Benny helps him run full time and the other guys (Tom won't be attending this story because Tom is dead in this story good riddance, Tom.) pitch in when they can. Mostly just on adoption event days, because it's already hard to turn down a sweet dog in need of a home, but when Pope or Will is holding it and telling you about it's journey? Please. Anywho, Reader comes into play when she finds a stray and can't take it in herself so she ends up at Frankie's place. Sparks fly, but definitely not right away. And I'm going to leave it there for now.

8- Do you think you'll experiment with any new characters in the new year? If so, which?

This is your way of getting me to admit that I've been thinking about Lucien far too much for my own good lately, isn't it? Isn't it, Rachael?! Well, congratulations, because yes, I'm absolutely writing for Lucien De Leon in 2025. I knew I'd love him and, tragically, I was right, and anyway it's probably going to be kinda different from most of the things that I've written but, it's happening. It's still very nebulous right now, but... maybe sometime in the Spring.

9- What about experimenting with trope, style, theme, etc.? Anything you're looking to take a swing at this year for the first time?

I *might* try my hand at a sex pollen story for Dieter but even saying that out loud makes me nervous so we'll see what happens. I have an outline that I came up with a few months ago, albeit a rough one. Smut has never been my strong suit but I figure the best way to change that is to write it wall to wall. (results on this theory are pending. we are at the fuck around stage, not yet the find out stage.) I've never written a sex pollen story, so if it happens it will be a first!

[missbubblesoda]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (7)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27) | (28) | (29)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.8k

You weren’t exactly sure why, but the sight of someone analyzing financial records in the middle of a late-summer afternoon was, all of a sudden, so interesting to you. Long, experienced fingers tapping on the desk, rolled-up sleeves revealing a pair of well-muscled forearms that were generously sprinkled with light brown hair, tense neck muscles occasionally drawing a circle in the air, and jungle-dense eyebrows temporarily locked in a slight frown. He had been sitting there since noon, hadn’t even paused for lunch. It seemed like he didn’t have eyes for anything or anyone else but that paper in front of him. And that annoyed you a little.

So much could have been said about his superhuman ability to focus or his equally remarkable jawline, but he looked up to stretch his neck and saw you. And you figured it was already too late to start pretending you had been busy with something other than staring, even though your ears felt impossibly hot and suggested otherwise. If he thought it was weird that his assistant had been creepily staring at him while he worked, he must have been too polite to tell you, because instead, he smiled softly.

“I will be done soon. Then we can go over the winter budget, as well as anything else you might need for the coming days.”

“When will you be back?” You really wanted to know, but as soon as the question left your mouth, you wished you had sounded more like an assistant and less like a wife.

“I should be back by Monday. Sorry to leave you alone with all of this.” He looked at the papers on his desk.

It’s not like you were taking his place, you were just going to keep his paperwork from piling up and make sure a demoralizing list of unfinished tasks wouldn’t be waiting for him when he returned. You didn’t know what he was off to, though, just that he would be going to Sina, and that he was taking Armin, Mikasa, and a few other soldiers with him. Given that those two were on the list, you wondered if this sudden excursion to the capital had something to do with Eren. Most likely. More like you wanted to think so. Because that, at least, would provide some much needed context.

In all honesty, you were a little hurt he hadn’t taken you with him, and that he was taking some of your former classmates instead. You had gotten so used to being on the receiving end of his polite requests and recurrent demands, that it was a little hard to accept the fact that he would be just fine without you. You had forgotten that, in fact, he had been just fine without you for the vast majority of his time as commander.

But on the other hand, a small part of you was actually grateful that he was leaving. Distance sounded like something that both you and your busy head could benefit from. It just felt like it would.

“It’s fine. When you come back, you’ll find everything exactly as you left it.” You smiled back, trying to reassure both him and yourself that you could handle his absence.

-

The moon had long claimed her spot in the sky when you were finally able to slip under the covers. One good thing about living in a big castle was that everyone got their own room. There weren’t many scouts to begin with, barely three hundred if you weren’t mistaken, and a lot of them weren’t even positioned in the headquarters. And it was after stressful and unnecessarily long days like this one, that you were particularly glad you had a room for yourself.

Your job wasn’t the problem. Yes, it was true that you were busier now that all of the commander’s paperwork went directly to you, and that his absence had unfortunately coincided with the beginning of the winter stockpiling process, which by the way, was proving to be significantly more challenging than you expected, given the limited resources available. But none of that was the problem. The problem was everything else.

It was the fact that Sasha, Reiner, Krista, Connie and the others had all been sent to another camp so they could be monitored by Squad Leader Miche, and that you didn’t know what they would need monitoring for, in the first place.

It was the fact that whoever was inside the female titan hadn’t been caught yet, and the possibility that there could be a spy living under the same roof as you.

It was the fact that it had been three nights since they had left for the capital, and you hadn’t heard from them at all.

It was the fact that every time you looked at his chair, it was still empty. And most importantly, the fact this made your heart weigh like a rock.

So, when your hand reached between your legs, you were certainly glad you had a room completely for yourself. Your fingers were always helpful on nights when you needed to decompress. So you tilted your head back, closed your eyes, and welcomed them in. But this time, when you felt their delicate touch caressing you through the fabric, you pictured fingers that didn’t belong to you. When they impatiently slipped under the cotton, you saw a smile that didn’t come from your lips. When they delightfully played with your clit and your breath quickened, you saw a face that had become as familiar as your reflection, but that looked nothing like yours. When they stretched you out exquisitely and your mouth opened wide to let out a silent moan, you heard a voice that didn’t sound like yours. And when they entered you repeatedly and you rolled your hips to match their delicious pace, you wanted to moan one name in particular. His name.

But you knew once his name left your lips, there would be no coming back. How were you supposed to look at him again after that? And most importantly, how were you supposed to keep fooling yourself after that?

-

Shameless. The way you practically ran down the stairs the moment you saw the convoy in the distance. Outrageous. The way your body forgot what a normal heart rate was supposed to be like the moment you caught sight of him. Completely unacceptable. The way your brain spent all that will power trying to stop you from throwing yourself into his arms, some part of you clearly struggling to understand that one is not supposed to hug one’s boss, no matter how long they had been gone for, or how good they smelled. And, most of all, extremely concerning. How the familiar sight of him sitting at his desk had been enough to melt your stress away, even though the winter stockpiling and the other problems you had been worrying about for the last few days were everything but solved.

Except for one. The identity of the female titan had been revealed. Turns out that had been the sole purpose of their visit to Sina. You had never been particularly close with Annie, not that she was close with anyone for that matter, but still. To think that you had shared a room with her for three whole years sent chills down your spine. So you tried to avoid thinking about it.

And although the alleged spy living among you hadn’t been identified yet, catching the Female had been a complete morale booster for everyone at the headquarters, and as a result, the ale-induced singing was back in full swing, much to the dismay of your ears. You were certain that the ale rations wouldn’t last long. At that rate, they would have no booze left to warm them up during the cold months. And you had voiced these concerns to the commander. But he had just smiled reassuringly, as it was very much in character for him, and told you to let them have it.

“Occasions to celebrate are rare in this day and age, which reminds me,” he pulled a small tin box out of a drawer “I got you something.”

For me? Strange. You couldn’t remember having butterflies for lunch. But you tried to ignore them, and instead focused your efforts on helping your trembling fingers open the box.

And as soon as you saw what was inside, your eyes hurried to find him. Your mind suddenly flooded with memories that you realized were so distant now.

“But, commander, this costs an arm and a leg.” Your voice did nothing to contain the childlike joy you were experiencing. Figs were scarce, especially the ones that grew in the equally limited plots of land inside wall Sina. And this, the dried variety, was your favorite. It was not something people would indulge in often, however.

“Don’t worry about it. You told me it's been months since you last went home. Figured you must miss it.”

And there it was again. That excited flutter in your belly, as well as that problematic urge to jump into his arms. But you settled for an enthusiastic nod instead.

“Fig season, it was the time my father dreaded the most. I always came home from school with my bag full of fruit.” You reminisced aloud, longing present in every word. “It would always end up the same: my father complaining about me not understanding the value of money, all while munching on a fig himself.” You chuckled, and realized you actually wouldn’t mind getting scolded again. “But once he was done lecturing me, I would go to my room, lay them on the balcony, and wait for days. The scolding was agonizing but not as much as having to wait for the fruit to dry. I have never liked fresh figs that much really.” Your eyes drifted back to him just as you were about to start elaborating on the reason for that. “I’m sorry, you must have better things to do. But can I ask one last question?”

He nodded reassuringly, and you went ahead.

“How did you get them? I mean, didn’t Stohess get pretty damaged by Ann- the female titan?”

“I got them before that happened. As well as this.” He handed you a letter. The pretentious golden wax sealing it had already been broken, and upon closer inspection, you realized it was an invitation.

“A ball?” You asked him, voice thick with incredulity. Not only the city had been destroyed, but lots of lives had been lost during Eren and Annie’s clash. “Isn’t it a little… insensitive? I mean, holding an event like this, after what happened?”

“It is. Hange said the same thing. Everyone would rather not go, but we figured this will be a good opportunity to rub shoulders with potential contributors. I’m guessing what happened in Stohess wasn’t much of an issue for the organizers, since the event won’t be taking place there anyway.”

You eyed the invitation again. Mitras. In fact, it was not far from your house.

“You are from the capital, right? I was thinking you could take advantage of the opportunity and get to see your family.” A very pleasant warmth spread through your chest at the idea. You actually missed home quite a bit. “But you don’t have to attend if you don’t want to, so don’t feel pressured. Just think about it. Levi wished he had a choice.”

You couldn’t help letting out a chuckle. Dancing did sound very out of character for Captain Levi.

-

You eyed the small tin box on your desk, which was now missing more than half of its original content. You had already decided you were going to keep it even after the figs were all gone. It’s not like you were starting a collection or anything, but you enjoyed looking at the box. Something about it sent a tingling warmth down your limbs, and it happened to be the same kind of warmth you felt when staring at him. With the box, however, you didn’t risk getting caught. And that was a considerable advantage.

With that said, he seemed to be very busy now and, as far as you knew, a little staring never killed anyone. Good gracious. For someone reading a fat, dusty book about boring royal history, he was way too entertaining for the eyes. You liked observing him because, no matter how much you did it, there was always something new to look at, to notice, to tell your journal about. You had been wondering for a while, about his hair. It was always perfectly groomed, neatly parted on the left side. In fact, it was so obedient that you had never seen him tucking it behind his ear. He seemed to take such good care of it. No. Actually, not only his hair. Every aspect of his appearance was always so well-cared for.

It was a mystery, how someone with that many daily demands managed to keep a clean shave, impeccable hair, and smell that good at all times. You found the thought of him, taking a few minutes every morning to stand in front of a mirror and take care of himself, oddly comforting. It was nice to know there were at least small moments of normalcy in the life of the 13th Commander of the Survey Corps. You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering, however, how would his hair look disheveled and sticking to his sweaty forehead, and that tingling sensation in your lower stomach reminded you that it was probably time to look away.

So your eyes reluctantly traveled to the other side of the room, where they landed on the old chess board he kept by the fireplace. But even there, the question remained the same: When does he even play? Maybe sometimes, on very rare nights when there were no reports to write and no strategies to plan, he poured himself a glass of wine and sat by the fireplace to indulge in a rightfully deserved game of chess. But whether that happened or not, you realized it would, most likely, always remain a mystery to you. And you found yourself wishing your presence in his office wasn’t limited to official hours.

“It was my father’s.” The sound of his voice drew you away from your discontentment. “He said playing helped him think straight. More rationally.” He paused for a moment and then looked at you. “And less impulsively.” His eyes were all those glacial colors, but you swore sometimes they could burn so much.

“There’s nothing wrong with impulsive thoughts.” You held his gaze firmly as you spoke. “As long as we don’t act on them.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “Do you play?”

You shook your head lightly. “I never learned.” Which was weird, given the fact that chess was extremely popular back in Mitras and almost everyone played, even your parents. Whether they enjoyed it or not didn’t really matter, that was besides the point, because in the capital, chess wasn’t really played for entertainment purposes. “My mother tried to teach me when I was little. She insists it’s an important life skill. The game is somewhat of a status symbol where I live.”

He nodded in understanding. “The only thing my predecessor asked before appointing me was ‘are you good at chess?’ In the capital, the game is used as a tool to assess people and their value. If you perform well, they will believe everything you say, they will finance any project you propose, irrespective of the cost. But if your game is weak,”

“They won’t even listen to what you have to say.” You finished the thought. Despite having never seen him play, you were certain a man like him never struggled to be taken seriously. “How long have you been playing?”

“Since I was old enough to learn.”

“You must be very passionate.” You didn’t intend that sentence to come out in something similar to a whisper, but honestly you didn’t mind. And, if the way his lips curved was anything to go by, he didn’t seem to either.

“Or addicted. When sleep evades me, I play. When I need a fresh perspective, I play.” His demeanor slowly matured into something less playful as he spoke. “When I can’t make sense of what I’m feeling, I play.”

“And when you’re having impulsive thoughts?” You held his gaze boldly, even though it had never felt that heavy before. “Do you also play then?”

“Sometimes. There are some thoughts, however, that I don’t mind having.” His eyes bore into yours as the words left his mouth. “I’m starting to think I like them.”

-

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