#but I have tomorrow off and that means I gotta focus on these prompts

[jojo-hut-jrs]

Just wanted to say that I love how batshit crazy you write Devo (yes there's more of us!), for some reason most of the fandom seems to view him as some kind of stoic guy but that's really not the vibe he gave off to me at all??????? 🤔 And ngl you've... Kinda made me look at Tennille in a new light 😳

Fellow tennille appreciator….

As for devo, I think it’s all contextual. I think he /can/ be stoic, and we’ve seen some of that behavior when he met polnareff, it’s just that it’s not his primary characteristic. He seems sort of all over the place to me, layered in ways that suggest both a lose of control and a shit ton of control over his emotional state, and he sort of reminds me of goro Majima from the yakuza series but like, actually not faking it 90% of the time

[hectic-hector]

Encantober prompt #20: Vision

A Perfect Vision

If you had asked four-year-old Mirabel what her favorite color was, her answer would vary from day to day, sometimes even minute to minute. One moment it might be pink or purple, the next moment it might be yellow, silver, or red. And sometimes it was impossible for her to choose when her Tia Pepa made a rainbow.

The prospect of picking a favorite color had never seemed as daunting as it did on the day that Julieta told her youngest daughter she needed glasses. “But why can’t you make my eyes all better with food?” 

The question had very nearly broken Julieta’s heart. With a sigh, she set her pestle down and wiped her hands on her apron. “Because that’s not how my gift works, mija.” She knelt down in front of a sniffling Mirabel and clasped her tiny hands in hers. “Your eyes are not broken. They’re just a little different. Like your father’s.” She looked over at Agustín, who made an attempt to appear suave by leaning casually against the counter while adjusting his glasses. Casita playfully swatted him in the back of the head with a cabinet door, making him jump and knocking his glasses askew. Mirabel giggled. “See?” Julieta said. “His glasses make him look handsome and smart. And guess what? Doctor Orozco says you can have any color you want for your frames.” She smiled big. “Isn’t that nice?” The little girl began to mirror her smile, but after a moment, her face fell. “I don’t want any color,” she murmured, looking at the floor. “I don’t want glasses.”

Julieta sighed again and gently coaxed her into a hug. “I’m sorry, querida, but if you want to see better, you need them.” Agustín knelt beside the two, hugging his daughter next. “It’ll be alright, Miraboo. I wear glasses, and I think they’re great! Here, why don’t you try mine on?” He removed his glasses and, after some fiddling, just barely managed to balance them on Mirabel’s much smaller nose and ears. The girl lifted her hands to feel the oversized frames as she glanced around the kitchen, marveling at how different everything looked. The designs on the floor tiles appeared blurrier, while saucepans and ladles hanging on the wall across the room were more in focus. Mirabel shook her head. “Don’t like um.” She handed them back to her father. Agustín put them back on. “Well, the eye doctor’s going to make special glasses just for you, Mira. They’ll fit perfectly and make everything crystal clear. And don’t forget to tell him your favorite color!”

Julieta nodded, cupping the girl’s cheek and kissing her forehead. “We’ll go tomorrow morning. Alright? In the meantime, I want you to decide what color you want for your frames. You can only pick one, though. And ‘rainbow’ isn’t one color.” “Awww!” Mirabel pouted. ~   ~   ~   ~   ~

 “You’re probably gonna look like this. Or like this. Or maybe like this!” Camilo, who had only gotten his gift a month prior, kept changing into different versions of Mirabel with glasses, each one growing progressively less flattering. The glasses grew to the size of saucers, and the nose and teeth had also grown until he looked like a comically nerdy caricature come to life. “Stop it, Camilo! That’s mean!” Mirabel shouted, stomping her foot. “Papi has glasses and he doesn’t look like that!”

“That’s ‘cuz he’s a boy,” Camilo replied, reverting back to himself. “He doesn’t gotta be pretty.” No sooner had he spoken than a wreath of pink and yellow plumerias burst into bloom on his head. “Nobody has to be pretty,” said Isabela, descending from the upper mezzanine on a vine. She stepped down in front of Camilo, growling at him. “Now buzz off before I make you pretty!”

The boy took off, tearing at the flowers that continued to sprout from his hair. Isabela rolled her eyes. “Boys are dumb,” she muttered, boredly conjuring pansies and petunias out of thin air. “You won’t look that bad, I’m sure. Especially if you pick a good color for your glasses. Like one of these.” 

Mirabel took the proffered bouquet, looking at the bright colors. They were mostly various shades of pink and purple, with a little bit of white and yellow for accents. “What color would you pick?” she asked, gazing up at the much taller twelve-year-old.

Isabela blinked. “Me? I wouldn’t pick any color, because I don’t need glasses.” Mirabel’s lip trembled, but she remained silent as she turned and walked away, the hand holding the bouquet hanging dejectedly at her side. ~   ~   ~   ~   ~ Mirabel spent the next hour alone in the nursery, flowers, papers, and crayons scattered all around her on the floor as she lay on her stomach drawing and redrawing herself with different colored glasses. Camilo’s unflattering interpretations of her kept invading her thoughts, and each time they did, she pressed the crayons harder into the paper, drawing the lines thicker and darker, as if she could somehow scribble those images out of her head. When the first crayon broke, so too did Mirabel’s resolve. 

Sobbing, she stood up, clutching her latest drawing to her chest, and ran out of the room. Tears clouded her vision, and as she ran up the mezzanine toward her parents’ room, she did not see the figure that emerged from a different door until it was too late.

Mirabel collided with a green blur, nearly knocking both of them to the ground. “Whoa, careful there,” said Bruno, catching her by the elbows to steady her. “You really gotta watch where you’re going, kiddo. You don’t wanna get… Mirabel? What’s wrong?” he asked as he looked her over. “Are you hurt?”

Mirabel shook her head. Grabbing two fistfuls of fabric, she buried her face in her uncle’s ruana, sobbing quietly. Bruno looked down at her, speechless. He leaned down to put his arms around her, to offer the poor girl some comfort, but paused when he noticed the paper on the ground. It was rumpled and tearstained, but the picture she had drawn was unmistakably a self portrait. A distorted, exaggerated self portrait, with so much frustration and fear rendered in thick black crayon, particularly in the wide circles around the eyes. Bruno stared at it for a moment, then at the little girl clinging to his clothes. He knew what he had to do.

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

Mirabel stood in the middle of the stone chamber, holding her uncle’s hands as well as her own breath. Bruno’s eyes glowed brightly as he slowly turned his neon gaze from Mirabel to the sands swirling overhead. Though this wasn’t the first or even the tenth time she’d witnessed him having a vision, she still found herself transfixed by those eyes. A second pair of gleaming green eyes appeared in the storm above. Mirabel squinted, as much to keep the sand out of her eyes as to try to make out what the vision was showing her. Meanwhile, Bruno’s eyes remained wide and unblinking, even as his hair whipped violently around his face. 

The two green circles widened, then connected, as other features began to take shape around them. Mirabel was just beginning to make out a face and a body when the swirling sands flared impossibly bright. She let go of her uncle’s hands to cover her eyes, and in an instant, the torrential winds ceased. Silence fell inside the stone chamber, and when she looked up again, Bruno was holding an emerald slab over her head to protect her from the falling sand.

A moment later, he was turning the tablet around for her to see. “Looks like you’ve got nothing to worry about after all,” he said, grinning despite his sudden headache. “See?” Mirabel stared at the vision. Etched in emerald, a smaller version of herself looked back, smiling wide as she reached her hand out toward a butterfly. Even her eyes were smiling behind large, round glasses that flattered her face. 

“Here.” Bruno set the tablet in her hands. “No more sad or scary drawings of yourself when you’ve got this.” ~   ~   ~   ~   ~

Mirabel had no idea how, but somehow, that vision tablet had survived the fall of Casita. And it was Bruno, of all people, who had found it in the ruins: cracked, chipped, but still in one piece. He recognized it instantly. Mirabel saw him standing motionless in the rubble on the second day of cleanup and went to see what he was holding. As she approached him, she froze when she saw it. Bruno looked up at her. “You kept this?” Mirabel blushed. She stepped closer, pushing some debris aside with her broom. “Um, yeah. I did.” They both looked down at the tablet, studying the nearly forgotten image for a long moment, before Mirabel spoke again. “I wanted to remind myself that I shouldn’t worry so much. About the future. About… myself.” She shrugged. “I guess I also kept it to remind me of you. After you left.” She met his gaze, and despite the fact that she was smiling now, there was a little shadow of sadness behind it. Bruno had gone into hiding only a month after giving Mirabel that vision. The last one he had ever given her, until the present day. “No matter what anyone said about you, I didn’t want to believe them.” She placed a hand on his arm. “You gave me a perfect vision. I didn’t want to forget that. Or you.”

Bruno could only stare back at the young woman, completely speechless. Mirabel took the tablet from him and wiped away the remaining dust, and as she did so, her smile grew warmer, and when she looked up at him again, there was no trace of sadness left. “You’re the reason I chose this color, you know,” she said, tapping the frames of her glasses. Bruno blinked. “You mean because of how they looked in the vision?” Mirabel giggled. “No, silly. I picked green because I wanted my eyes to be like yours!” Bruno could only stare at her, speechless yet again. “What?” she said, tucking the tablet under one arm. “I was just a kid at the time. A kid who thought you had the coolest eyes when they glowed.”

Bruno smirked. “So if my eyes glowed bright pink instead –”

Mirabel smirked back, shaking her head. “I like green better.” @encantober-official

[star-going-supernova]

Swap prompt: what if Gregory was Michael and Elizabeth's younger brother while Evan was Vanessa's?

Anon, your brain!! I love this idea, I love how swapping them changes everything. I’ve kept both Gregory and Evan’s personalities the same, which means their new respective older siblings are the ones who’ve changed as a result. I didn’t include Elizabeth, sadly, partly because I wanted to focus on Michael as a better parallel for Vanessa, and partly because I find Elizabeth difficult to write for some reason, so I avoid her, oops. 

A Very Different Story

Michael sidled up to Gregory, who, for a kid at his own birthday party, didn’t look very happy. “What’s up, short stuff? Don’t like the entertainment?” 

His little brother sent him a deadpan look far more befitting of a tired old man. “They’re boring.” 

Yeah, any magic the animatronics might have held for Gregory was lost when the kid saw their father helping someone dress up as one of the characters. The party being here hadn’t been the birthday boy’s idea; Gregory would probably have liked literally anywhere else better. 

“I could give you an up-close and personal look,” Michael teased him. 

Gregory eyed him, calculating. “Michael,” he said sweetly, “it’s my birthday.” 

Oh, he totally shouldn’t have provoked the little beast. “It sure is,” he agreed, trying to inch away.

“We should bail and go to the arcade instead.” Gregory didn’t bother with puppy-dog eyes. He just smiled like he knew he’d get his way. 

But Michael had to at least try to pretend like he couldn’t be bossed around by his baby brother. “Mom and Dad wouldn’t like us leaving.” 

“Mom and Dad aren’t going to like what happens if I have to listen to one more of these stupid songs.” 

WIth a great, put-upon sigh, Michael caved. “Fine, fine. But if anyone asks, you threatened my kneecaps.” 

He couldn’t even pretend to stay mad at the brat because his monstrous little brother could be a really great little brother when he wanted to be. Gregory slid off his chair and took Michael’s hand, as if he wasn’t perfectly capable of crossing the street on his own. “I’ll let you win me a stuffed animal from the claw machine and I’ll be very impressed about it, if you want.” 

Michael laughed, shaking his head. They slipped out of the diner unnoticed, hand in hand. “What the birthday boy wants, the birthday boy gets.” 

“Now you’re catching on,” Gregory said, beaming. He hopped through a stray hopscotch square on the sidewalk without letting go. “Congrats, you’re my new favorite.” 

“New?” Michael asked, outraged. Gregory giggled. “What do mean new? I have always been your favorite, and don’t you forget it.” 

“Am I your favorite?” Gregory asked as they stopped at an intersection, waiting for the light to change. 

Michael looked down at his little brother. “Yeah, pipsqueak. You’re my favorite, too.”

• • • 

Vanessa looked up from her homework, her older sister sense going off. Sure enough, Evan was wobbling toward her table, a stack of books precariously balanced in his arms. She hurried to help him, relieving him of the top half of his burden.

“Geez, kid, don’t clean out the library.” 

He grinned sheepishly. “They all look good.” 

She scanned his collection as they spread it out at her table. Tapping the Goosebumps book, she said, “Absolutely no reading this before bedtime. Been there, done that. Don’t make my mistakes.” 

Evan nodded, accepting her words of wisdom as he always did. As the both sat down, he leaned over to peer at her homework. “Chemistry?” 

“I hate the periodic table,” she grumbled. “Exam’s tomorrow, and I’ve got a lot of studying to do.” She glanced at him, aiming for casual. “You okay hanging out here for a while?”

Vanessa felt awful for the way he perked up, smiling eagerly. It wasn’t just ’cause Evan loved the local library—though that made her feel less like crap—but he shouldn’t dread going home so much. She hated their parents for that alone. 

Just gotta graduate, she reminded herself. Just a little longer. 

As soon as she was done with high school and turned eighteen, she was grabbing everything she could carry and getting the hell out of here with Evan. A lot of her friends had already offered to help. Terrible as it felt, knowing she was getting ready to drag her little brother along couch-surfing until she got a handle on things, it would still be an improvement. 

“Cool,” she said. “We’ll go get something to eat in…” She checked her watch. “An hour or two? And then come back to keep going. Sound good?” 

“Sounds very good,” Evan said quietly. It was his default tone, and Vanessa frequently agonized over whether their parents were responsible for that too. She wasn’t always home with him. But he was smiling and wiggling a little, the adorable little munchkin. 

Vanessa ruffled his hair, making him squeak indignantly, before turning back to her homework with a sigh. Two months until graduation. And then a few more before she turned eighteen. 

She… could probably get away with leaving before then. So. Two months. 

Two months, and then she could save herself and her little brother. 

[penname-artist]

Me? Nosebleed? No no no, of COURSE not, this is humble and wholesome non-sexy content, clearly-

-

"H-how do you, um.." Dusty faltered, pointing his hands together as his face began to darken. There wasn't an easier way to ask this, was there?

"How do you uh, dominate, usually being...smaller?"

Nick blinked, before his usual cheeky grin spread over his face. "Wouldn't you like to know? Not sure why you would, though...a tall glass of water like you should have no trouble taking charge..." The glimmer of mischief in his gaze wasn't lost on the redhead. He knew exactly what he was getting at.

Dusty tightened his lip. He didn't want to admit it, but it's not like it wasn't common knowledge already.

"I uh...I mean generally I should have the size advantage...t-tall, and everything, I mean- but uh- ...I just don't really know how to be more..." He gestured with his hands like the right word would just fall out.

"Assertive?" Nick finished for him. "Well that's your problem right there. Your size doesn't mean shit. I'm 5'0, I can still make Blade sob. The point isn't to be bigger, it's to act bigger."

Dusty tried to ignore the mental image of Blade, but it was increasingly difficult when Nick kept using him as an example.

"He might be stronger than I am, but if you get him all heated up he'll be too busy melting to try to fight back. It's working him up to that, you know? Makin' his head spin."

He hoped the man wasn't within earshot. Especially not with how warm Dusty suddenly felt, squeezing the bench seat to keep from sliding off of it. Nick chuckled wryly,

"to dominate, you gotta work smarter, not harder. Here-.."

Nick turned to swing one leg over the bench, holding out his hands and prompting Dusty to take them. He grasped them gently, and Nick chuckled. "See, this is your problem."

He pushed Dusty's hands down into the bench seat, holding them there, rubbing his thumbs over them. "You can wrench out of my grasp right? But didn't that startle you a little? And doesn't this feel better?" He leaned in closer, "People don't leave when they like it."

Dusty stared down at his hands, in Nick's grasp, being gently caressed. "I...think I understand..." He said. Nick let go of him to stand up, coaxing him to follow. "C'mon let me teach you a few things."

He led the younger male into a storage room in the back of the mess hall, and from there, "training" began. Dusty couldn't even keep his face from reddening, as Nick had him practice pinning him into the wall, teaching him to focus on the details and unwind his partners with them. He wasn't doing anything with him, but the hard implications were there, and he couldn't help but shudder every time Nick made a point about his technique.

"And get right up under them, don't be shy. If they aren't ready, you'll know." He said, placing Dusty's hand against his thigh. "You'll learn where they're sensitive, find them out and get right up in there. Make them beg for you to do more."

"W-wow, thats-.." Dusty bit his lip, pulling away, "T-this is a lot of really great info..."

"Don't mention it." Nick said, "but your final test is tomorrow night."

Dusty blinked "My...final test?"

Nick giggled, "Blade's got two days off; one for a good hard dicking, and one to recover from that dicking. And you're gonna be the one to dick him."

Dusty choked, "wh-what!?! You guys are married! And I- I uhh, I'm-"

"Don't be silly, I've seen the way you look at him, the way you respond. You want that body; I don't blame you. He's a real catch. I'll let you in on it, see if you got what it takes."

Dusty looked like he'd die on the spot. "I can't do that, he's- but I'm his- and he's-"

"All the more reason. You need some bedtime bragging rights, hun. And this is how you get them."

-

(part two...?)

[loveelle]

Saturday

Luke Patterson x Reader

Request from Anon: Luke Patterson prompt? Luke (ghost) likes to flirt with reader every chance he gets? Kind of like the scene with Julie/Nick at her lock? He even gets a little jealous?

And Request from Anon: Julie and the boys try to convince her best friend she’s in love with a ghost? Luke Patterson x reader?

A/N: Two requests done in two days??? Who is this girl writing because damn she’s productive for once!??! I’m also sorry that this one is like so abrupt in the ending, I write the same damn endings for every fic and it’s fine, but I’m getting bored with myself, so I’m trying to figure out where to go with the endings, which means... absolutely nothing. lol.

WC: 3.2K

MASTER

---

“Do you think this shirt makes me look good?”

You nearly jump out of your skin and let out a squeak as the sudden appearance of Luke next to you. Offering the people around you an apologetic smile, you hold up your phone and pretend like someone was talking to you. As soon as the attention was off you, you turn back to Luke who was laughing hard and send him a glare. “Must you decide to jump scare me when I’m at school?”

He smirks at you as he leans on the lockers and crosses his arms. “When I get that kind of reaction? Of course, I must.”

You roll your eyes at him. “What did you want?”

“Oh, does this shirt make me look good?” He pulls his shirt out from his body, making you gulp as your eyes flicker down.

“Nope.”

Luke scoffs playfully at you, knowing you were just messing with him. “Haha.” He mocks and you can’t help but smile.

“Why did you need to know? It’s not like anyone could see you besides me and the band.”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs and the smile on his face only gets bigger. “Always gotta look good in front of a pretty girl.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at Luke’s flirting as you turn back to your locker, lodging your phone which you had been pretending to talk on, between your shoulder and your ear when you pull out the last of your books. “And you went with that shirt?” you joke and watch Luke put a hand on his chest and pretend to be wounded. You laugh softly before you close your locker and start your walk to class with Luke next to you.

“Y/N! Wait up!” A voice calls out from behind you two as you spin around, seeing a kid from your math class jogging to catch up with you. When he finally stops in front of you, you hesitate glancing to Luke only to see his jaw locked as he stares down the boy.

“Gotta go. Bye.” You say into your phone before shoving it into your pocket. “Hey Daniel, what’s up?”

“I was hoping to get to walk you to class.” The smile on his face makes Luke’s jaw clench only more as he looks to you, only to see the smile on your face.

“He wants to walk you to class.” Luke says and you pretend to ignore him, focusing on Daniel.

“You don’t have to do that.” You assure him and Luke forces a smile, turning to square up to Daniel.

“Yeah, you don’t have to do that. I’ll walk her.”

“It’s no trouble, it’s on the way to my class.” You know there wasn’t much of a way to get around this so you suck in a breath and nod. As Daniel moves to walk by your side, you shoot a glance back to see Luke jaw dropped as you walk away with Daniel. You chuckle softly at him and he snaps out of his daze.

“I’m coming with!” He shouts over the sea of kids and sooner than not, Luke was on your other side.

“So, I was wondering,” Daniel begins, turning slightly as he walks to talk to you, “if you were free this Saturday like I am, maybe we could hang out.”

You were taken back by Daniel’s offer. “Uh, Saturday? Like, tomorrow Saturday?” you ask and Daniel nods, hopeful that you’d say yes. You ignore the comment Luke made under his breath as you think about Daniel’s offer. “Uh, I think I might have plans tomorrow.”

Luke furrows his brows and scoffs. “You don’t have plans tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I have plans tomorrow.” You repeat, looking away from Daniel briefly to Luke and scowl at him. You wince, however, when you realize Daniel couldn’t hear Luke refuting your plans.

“Oh.” Daniel frowns. “Maybe Sunday?”

“How about never?” Luke mumbles and you bite your lip, tightening your hold on the books in your arms.

“I’m not sure. I have to check.” Daniel’s face brightens at the possibility of going on a date with you and you feel bad for knowing Sunday would come and go and Daniel wouldn’t be getting that date. “This is my class.” You point briefly to the door that was ajar for students to enter and Daniel moves past you to his own class as he turns around to talk while walking backwards.

“You have my number, right?” He calls out and you nod, pulling your lips into a thin line to at least try and smile. “Cool, uh call me or text me if you’re free!” He points at you and you give him an awkward thumbs up. He smiles at you one last time before running down the hall to his own class.

“She won’t!” Luke calls after him before turning to you smugly. You let out a heavy breath and pull out your phone before resting against the wall and avoiding looking at Luke. “So, what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Luke.” You chastise him, giving him a glare that you quickly drop out of fear there was someone behind him thinking you were glaring at them.

“I’m just asking you know, in case you wanted to drop by Julie’s and watch us practice. You know how much I love seeing you there.” He leans on the wall next to you, meeting your eye as his lips tug up in a smile. “That is, unless you did already have plans?”

You roll your eyes and control the smile making way on your face. “If you weren’t already dead, I’d kill you.”

“So, I will be seeing you Saturday?”

“Yup.” You say before shoving your phone in your pocket and walking into the classroom.

You hear Luke laugh behind you and you can’t control the smile any longer, letting it take over your face as he shouts at you. “I thought so.”

“Oh, shut up.” You mumble and fall into your seat, beginning the long wait until class was over and you could go over to Julie’s and relax.

---

You were draped across the couch in Julie’s studio, Luke’s guitar in your lap as you strum gently on it, playing the chorus of a song that’s been stuck in your head for almost a week. While you were humming under your breath, you don’t notice Julie walk into the studio.

“Luke’s gonna kill you if he catches you playing that.” Julie calls over, making you laugh.

“He can try.” You smirk. “But I’m not afraid of ghost boy.” Despite not being afraid of Luke, you did put his guitar back where you found it.

“Let’s not ignore the fact he wouldn’t kill you because you’re both in love with each other.”

You let out a laugh and Julie raises a quizzical brow at you. “Luke’s not in love with me and I’m definitely not in love with him. I think I’d know if we were in love with each other.”

“Y/N, Luke could get down on one knee and propose to you and you’d still think he just sees you as just a friend.” Julie deadpans and your jaw drops. The corners of your mouth twitch into a smile as your best friend doubles over in laugher.

“You are so mean!” you gasp out, picking up a pillow and tossing it over at her. In the middle of doing so, the boys appear right in your line of fire. The pillow went right through Luke’s chest as he furrows his brows, looking between you and the girl behind them who can’t control her laughter.

“Did we miss something?” Alex points between the three of you and you shake your head, not wanting to repeat what Julie had just told you. There was no way they were right. Luke wasn’t in love with you and you weren’t in love with him. Simple as that.

“Okay then.” Luke’s words were slow as he eyes you and blow away any confused thoughts as he takes the spot next to you, draping an arm over the couch behind you.

“Nope.” You say and shoo him off the couch. “You have rehearsal.”

“Oh, but I’d rather stay here right here next you.” Luke’s smile had your cheeks heat up but you pretend to gag, making everyone laugh as well Luke. He pushes himself off the couch, refusing to look away from you until he has his guitar in his hands and turns to his friends. He was met with several different smirks knowing exactly what Luke was doing flirting with you.

Julie moves past him all the way until she was by your side and sending her smirks to you. Your eyes widen and you grab another pillow and hit her with it. She grabs it before you can get a second swing in and hit you back with it.

“Stop!” you laugh out a Julie keeps hitting you with it, giving you enough time to grab the last pillow on the couch and try to defend yourself. The band was watching on, Luke’s focus was strictly on you, trying to memorize the way your smile made your eyes close tight and the way your laugh fills the air. Until you land on your back on the floor and knock over the glass of juice you brought out to the studio with you before rehearsal began.

You freeze as the cold drink covers you, your mouth still upturned in a smile as Julie stands over you. She drops the pillow back on the couch, her hands covering her mouth as she gasps. “I’m so sorry!” You let out a small laugh, reaching your hand up for her to help you up.

“Don’t worry about it.” You assure her when you get to your feet, looking at the way your shirt was soaked.

“Are you okay?” Luke asks you and you gave him a funny look before sighing.

“It’s just juice, Luke. I think I’ll live.” Luke nods, glancing to the ground before meeting your eyes again and you took a deep breath before turning to Julie. “Hey, Julie? Can I borrow a shirt?”

Julie nods and grabs your hand to take you inside. You follow her without a word, only a glance back over your shoulder to see Luke watching you. Once you were out of Luke’s sight, Luke tosses his head back and groans.

Reggie and Alex laugh at their friend’s struggle. “Dude, just ask her out.”

Luke rolls his eyes at Alex’s advice, knowing that a relationship between you and him wouldn’t work. “I’m not going to ask her out.”

“Why not?” Reggie faked whined and Luke gave him a pointed look.

“Should I start with the fact that even though we can touch each other, I’m dead and she’s not? Or the fact that she’s not interested?” Alex and Reggie share a look that made Luke’s brows draw close. “What?”

“She’s interested.” They say at the same time and Luke take a deep breath, glancing to the door before shaking his head.

“How do you know?”

“We know.”

“Then could you let her know?” He points towards the door, his finger dropping seconds before you and Julie and enters the studio and you were donning one of the oversized sweaters Julie had stashed in her closet.

“Thanks again for letting me borrow this.” You tell her, holding the door open until she was inside.

“Course, you can just give it back tomorrow when you come over for rehearsal.” You nod at her, making a note to wash the sweater tomorrow morning before you come over.

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Luke interrupts your thought as you and Julie glances up, seeing Alex and Reggie growing confused like you and Julie were.

“Hear what?” Julie speaks up, looking between the boys, thinking it had something to do with them. You catch Luke’s eye, seeing the way his lips tug in a smirk and you realize what this was about.

“Luke.” Your voice was low and he knows you were trying to get him to keep things hush.

“Y/N’s busy tomorrow.” He reveals and falls onto the couch, kicking his feet up on the table in front of him.

“What?” Alex calls over, a look of surprise struck across his face and you kind of take offense to it. “You are?”

Your mouth opens, not knowing what to say before you shake your head. “No.”

“No?” Luke repeats, pretending to be confused.

“No.”

“But I thought you were and that’s the reason you couldn’t go out with Daniel?” Your eyes close and you let out a sigh as Luke spills and you weren’t prepared as Julie gasps and grabs your arm.

“Daniel asked you out?” She looks almost mad as you turn to her.

“Um, maybe?”

“And you said you were busy? Are you crazy?”

“Well, I-” you stammer out, trying to form a thought on what to say.

“Y/N!” Julie stops you from coming up with an excuse. “You have to go out with him!”

“Woah,” Luke was off the couch in an instant, suddenly realizing that the idea to mess with you wasn’t all that smart considering Julie was stubborn and would get what she wanted, which in this case was for you to go out with someone who wasn’t him. “Well, I don’t think she has to do that.”

“Quiet Luke, this doesn’t involve you.” Julie snaps at him, seeing him gulp as he looks between you and Julie.

“I’m just saying, like maybe she is busy!”

“She’s not.” Alex butts in once he realizes that this could be Luke’s chance to tell you how he felt.

This time your look of annoyance was sent to Alex and he knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “I’m am.”

“Doing what?”

You bite your lip, letting your eyes move around the room inconspicuously until your mouth speaks on its own. “…Pilates?”

“Pilates?” Julie clarifies and you run a hand through your hair, hiding your face briefly before nodding. “Y/N, I don’t even think you know what Pilates are.”

“I know what Pilates are!” You practically screech as your friends all glare at you, except Luke who looks almost as panicky as you. “Okay fine,” you give in. “I just didn’t want to go on a date with Daniel.”

“Why not?”

Luke lets out a breath you were sure he meant to be a laugh, but you could almost sense his nerves. “Does she have to have a reason?”

“Yes!” Everyone shouts at him at once you cover your face, backing out of the room and letting yourself outside to get some air.

Luke wanted to go after you and apologize for bringing up Daniel’s date, but the moment he took a step, Alex stops him with a hand on his chest and shakes his head. “You should stay here.” He says and Luke scoffs.

“I’m not going to-”

“Luke.” Julie cuts him off. “We’ve got this.” For the first time since the argument started, Luke believes they’re on his side and lets them go outside and leave him alone in the studio, only growing more anxious by the passing second.

You were seated on the steps outside as Julie, Alex, and Reggie all come outside, making you groan. “You guys, I really don’t want to talk about Daniel anymore. Can you just go back and rehearse?”

“How about we stay out here and don’t talk about Daniel?” Reggie offers and you hesitate before nodding. That sounds… fine? They take seats on the steps around you before Reggie throws his arm over your shoulder. “Let’s talk about how you’re in love with Luke.”

You groan, shoving Reggie’s arm off you and turning to Julie. “You told them your stupid theory?” you grumble and Julie puts her hands up.

“I didn’t need to. They figured it out by themselves.” You roll your eyes.

“There’s nothing to figure out.” Your voice was quiet as your head dips, chewing on the inside of your lip. No one said anything as your sights move up from the ground, clocking each saddened look before you give in. “What do I do about it?”

Evil grins, that’s how you would explain the 3 different looks being shoot your way. Of course, none of your friends were evil, only excited, but nonetheless, you were terrified.

“Well, we have good news.” Alex begins and you listen eagerly. “If we can tell that you’re in love with him- and don’t fight back on that, you are- then we can also tell that Luke is in love with you.”

You inhale deeply. “You’re sure about this?” 3 eye rolls were all you receive. “I just have to know before I go in there and screw up the best friendship I’ve got.”

“Hey!” Julie nudges your arm. “I thought we had the best friendship!”

“We do, Jules.” You say sweetly and Julie’s brows raise out of annoyance and unbelievability.

“She’s just not in love with you.” Reggie adds on you hide your face as you groan, hearing your friends laugh all around you.

“Advice. That’s all I need.” You remind them and the laughing stops, finally being replaced by your friends telling you what to do.

---

Luke had been pacing since the moment his friends all stepped outside. He knew Alex and Reggie at least knew how much he liked you and it was the only hope he had that Julie wouldn’t convince you to go on a date with Daniel.

His thoughts ramble in his brain until finally the door opens and you step inside alone, tugging on the sleeves of Julie’s sweater. He freezes only seconds before your eyes lift up to his. Luke takes a breath of courage. “I don’t want you to go on a date with Daniel.”

His words stun you as your brows lift briefly and you clear your throat. “Um, and why is that?”

Luke couldn’t answer. He can’t. He wants to tell you that it was because he was falling for you, that every time he’s flirted with you it’s because he likes you and he likes hearing you flirt back, he likes imagining that someday by some miracle, you’d be a couple and do actual couple things, that he could make you happy. His mess of thoughts were cut off by a pair of lips. They were soft and plump, and had several bite marks lining them, but they felt perfect against his.

Luke pulls you closer as you kiss him, your hands gripping the sides of his tank top as he cups your face to pull you closer. Alex’s advice plays on repeat in your head and suddenly, you were very thankful you decided to listen to your friends.

Just forget everything and kiss him.

.

.

.

.

[starlightsearches]

May I request # 45 from the kissing prompt with ben Miller.

Thanks for sending this in! This was a very cute prompt 🥺

45. sleepy kisses

Kiss Prompts

Benny Miller x Reader (GN)

Warnings: Language, sooooooooo much fluff, it's just a little horny, Benny's a silly drunk.

Lemme know what you think!!

He's not very good at being quiet when he's drunk.

You're startled awake, rolling towards the door as soon as you hear the loud smack followed by a hushed expletive, squinting your eyes when the light in the hall turns on.

"Oh hey, babe, you're awake," Benny pokes his head through the door, grinning so wide his dimples fill with shadow in the low light. He stumbles through the doorway, half tripping, half jumping on the bed.

His mouth is eager, tongue insistent as he pushes it against your lips and it tastes like his favorite beer—everything about him so warm and open. The pressure fades, languorous kisses turning to soft pecks. He smiles against your cheek, dragging his lips down over your skin, resting his head against the pillow.

"I gotta question for you baby," he whispers, eyes shining from the hall light. The corners of your mouth turn down in a frown; it's too late for questions.

"Benny," you pout, voice brittle with sleep, "your shoes."

"Sorry, baby." The mattress shakes as he kicks his boots off, one foot at a time. You let out a groan when he crawls on top of you—Benny's heavy, thick with muscle and always running hot, but there's something comforting about having the weight of him so close, something that feels natural, that feels right.

"I gotta question," he repeats himself, kissing the tip of your nose, your cheeks. He holds your face between his two, warm palms, and he smiles down at you like he can't imagine anything better.

He's always been a sappy drunk.

"Is it a question I can answer tomorrow morning?"

"Shh, baby, just listen to me."

You sigh, rest heavier against the mattress. "Okay, okay. I'm listening."

He blinks, smiles, and then he's kissing you again.

It's deep and sloppy; it puts a fire in your stomach, like the way it feels when he whispers I love you up against your ear when you're out with his friends.

He slides his hips against yours, still so fucking good at this even when he's sloshed, and you grind up against him on instinct, your own movements clumsy and imprecise compared to his.

"You're so pretty baby," he mumbles against your neck, pulling the collar of your ratty t-shirt out of the way, "always so fuckin' pretty for me. You're gonna look so good in white."

Your body stills, hands at his shoulders. "What does that mean?"

His breath is hot against your neck, hips frozen in place, "oh, shit. I forgot to ask didn't I?"

"Ask what, Benny?"

He rolls off you, onto his back, staring up a the ceiling before his eyes land on you again.

"Would you ever wanna marry me?"

Jesus. That's new. You're heads still foggy, from lust and sleep, and you close your eyes tight, trying to find some focus. "Are you proposing to me right now?"

"No, baby, no. I just, I wanna know that you're not gonna laugh at me when I do ask."

He pulls you close, presses your head against his chest. Even though the buttons on his flannel dig into your cheek, you don't pull away.

"Of course I wanna marry you, Benny."

There's peace in the silence, in the rise and fall of his chest, and you soak in the moment, let the joy run it's course through your veins. Your eyes drift closed, lulled to sleep by the gentle sound of his snores.

You feel lucky.

[sour--disposition]

Bad Girlfriend

-

harry lewis x fem!reader

-

@ketamineharry suggested a harry imagine based off of Anne-Marie’s Bad Girlfriend and voila

please check my pinned post for request/prompt info and my masterlist

You cancel plans for me - I cancel ours on you - Say I'd be back early - I don't get in 'til 2 - You ask me where I've been - I tell you something vague - Think I messed up again - What can I say

You were sick and tired of Harry and his behaviour. When you first got together, you chalked his actions up to being young and dumb. And then to getting used to having more money. Then you blamed it on having to deal with so much at such a young age. 

The excuses piled up, one on top of the other. You knew one day it would all come toppling down around you, drowning you and Harry in a sea of problems that you doubted you’d be able to survive. You’d excused cheating, been by his side during hangovers from hell and comedowns that took too long to make Harry realise that the high really wasn’t worth the pain. You’d rubbed his back and handed him bottles of water and paracetamol and nursed him back to health, only for him to go and get in the same state the next weekend and expect you to help him gather the pieces back together again.

You’d tried to patch things up. Every time that you went to Harry to air all your concerns, tell him that if he doesn’t get his act together that you’d leave, and he always promised that things would be better this time. But something would always happen. There’d be plans he’d forget or cancel. He’d get too drunk and end up with hands over another girl’s body. 

“Ooh, you look nice”, Harry commented as soon as you answered his FaceTime call. “What are you doing?”, he asked you.

“I’m off out with some girls from uni tonight”, you told him as you stood up from the sofa and started gathering your things together.

“I thought you were coming over?”, he said, a small pout forming on his lips.

“Sorry”, you said nonchalantly. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah”, you told him half-heartedly.

“Yeah, whatever”, Harry huffed. “Come back here after?”, he suggested.

“Sure”, you said, a small smile on your lips. “I’ve gotta go, their taxi just pulled up. Love you”, you rushed out, hanging up and shoving your phone into your clutch, along with your keys, card and some cash.

Harry 💕: where are you it’s 11?

Harry💕: y/n c’mon i miss you

Harry💕: am i waiting up for you or not?

Harry💕: its 2am

You didn’t read the texts until you were swaying on the spot in the lift of Harry’s apartment building. Your vision was fuzzy as you tried to find the right key for their front door. “Y/N?”, Harry asked, opening the door.

“Hey”, you slurred, stumbling towards him. “I couldn’t see your key”, you told him.

“Where’ve you even been?”, Harry asked, voice dripping with distaste and disappointment.

“Here, there, everywhere”, you giggled. 

“Come on, go to bed”, Harry said sternly. “I have a shoot tomorrow and Josh will kill me if I’m late or lacking”, he told you.

“Oh, I am so very sorry”, you drawled, exaggerating all of your words, much to your own amusement.

“I’m not being funny, Y/N. Go to bed or go home”, Harry said sharply.

Your face dropped, the small square inch of your brain that was yet to be drenched in vodka and whatever else you’d been drinking lit up with anger. “Fine”, you snapped. You stormed down the hallway, sure of your footing this time and not stumbling once.

“Where are you going?”, Harry called after you.

“Home!”, you shouted, wrenching the front door open and slamming it behind you as hard as you could.

You shivered in the cold, late night wind of London as you waited on the curbside for your taxi. As soon as the car pulled up, you slid into the backseat and rattled off your address. The street lights and neon signs of London passed by in a blur of alcohol and anger and regret. “Thanks. Keep the change”, you muttered, handing a note over to the driver and getting out of the taxi.

Once you’d got back into your apartment, you changed into some pyjamas and took your make-up off as quickly as possible. You crawled under the covers, pulling them around your body and getting comfy in the middle of your bed. 

Part of you felt a little guilty for how you’d treated Harry, but a bigger part of you couldn’t find the effort to care. You’d put up with Harry acting like this for 6 years, he could tolerate you doing it once or twice.

-

You wanna meet my friends - I say another day

“Another day, Harry”, you sighed, heavily, turning back to the work you were trying to get done for your classes.

“You always say that. You’ve been on this course for, like, a year”, Harry whined.

“I know but I really need to focus on work at the moment, Harry”, you told him. “I started my degree later than I wanted to anyway and then I didn’t commit to it like I should have last year because of…”, you trailed off.  “Another day”.

“Because of what?”, Harry asked, voice taking a combative edge as he sat up straighter.

“Harry, I don’t want to get into this again”, you sighed heavily, slumping into your chair.

“Well, you started it!”, he argued. “So finish your sentence. Go on!”, he goaded.

“I couldn’t commit to my degree because I was too busy looking after you!”, you shouted. “Is that what you wanted? Me to lash out? Fucking well done”, you spat. You gathered up your things as quick as you could, closing your book and shoving things into your bag.

“Where are you going now?”, Harry asked frustratedly.

“Home. I have an essay to do for next week”, you muttered as you shoved past Harry.

Things between you and Harry were only getting worse. You knew about the other girls, but the both of you just pretended that you didn’t. All of his friends saw Harry as some sheepish kid with a loud mouth girlfriend, but they never got to see the Harry that you were seeing more and more. The Harry that held things from years ago against you, the Harry that was becoming more controlling by the day, the Harry that would raise his voice when things went even slightly not his way… The Harry that wasn’t the same Harry that you fell in love with.

-

'Cause I'm one in a million - More like in a billion - I don't think it's cheating if I'm kissing other women - I do some shit you can't forgive - And you better get used to it

The more you and Harry argued, the more his friends didn’t like you. They hid it well, especially Simon and Josh since you were such good friends with Talia and Freya. But you noticed the side glances you’d get anytime you laughed a little louder than usual, any time you’d say something that would make Talia or Freya cackle. You’d notice the looks that they would send Harry when you had the audacity to go and dance and your own, or when you’d be on your phone whilst everyone else was fighting to keep you out of the conversation.

You had no doubt in your mind that Harry was telling them bare-faced lies about you and hiding the truth about himself. You knew that they had no clue about Harry’s cheating, about how bad his drinking and substance abuse had truly been, how much he actually relied on you for day to day functioning. All they knew was that you were loud, argumentative and didn't give Harry the time of day when it came to uni work.

“Do you think she knows she’s punching?”, you heard Ethan ask JJ.

“I mean, it’s so obvious. Harry’s miles out of her league. C’mon man!”, JJ laughed in reply.

You looked to Harry to see his reaction. You knew he’d heard what was said, but based on the look on his face, he couldn’t care less. You didn’t need the validation from your boyfriend’s best friends, but it would be nice if your boyfriend would at least defend you or reassure you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave the table, heading towards the toilets. You were facing the mirror, touching up your hair and make-up, when Freya and Talia walked in. “What happened?”, Talia asked.

You told them what you’d heard and watched as their faces contorted into looks of horror. “Oh my god!”, Freya exclaimed. “What did Harry say!?”, she asked, coming closer to hold you hand supportively.

Your silence answered their question perfectly. “I can’t believe him”, Talia huffed, wrapping her arms around you.

“Things haven’t been great, but I never thought he’d just sit and let his best friends slag me off practically to my face”, you told them. Your eyes were watery.

“Hey, babe. Don’t let your mascara run”, a dark haired girl told you, handing you a tissue. “Whoever is letting someone slag you off is stupid”, she assured you.

“My boyfriend”, you said sadly. 

“I hate boys”, she laughed darkly, rolling her eyes, before rejoining her group of friends.

You, Talia and Freya emerged from the toilets around 5 minutes later, once you were sure that your tears had dried and weren’t going to restart. The three of you walked towards the table, Freya and Talia immediately sliding next to Josh and Simon.

“Where’s Harry?”, you asked, not seeing him anywhere. Ethan gave you a look and pointed towards the dancefloor before turning back to his conversation with JJ and Vik.

You glanced over towards the dancefloor, hoping you’d see Harry. Thankfully, he was towards the edge, back turned towards you. You watched as he turned around, ready to try and grab his attention. His eyes met yours, briefly filling with panic, before darting back down to the girl in his arms.

“Fuck this”, you muttered, as Harry’s friends and Freya and Talia all watched as he tried to assess the situation and what to do.

He watched as you walked closer, looking ready to send the stranger away. Harry’s eyes followed you as you sailed past him and towards the middle of the dance floor. You could feel eyes on you as you began dancing to the music, letting the beat mix with the alcohol and take over your body.

“Did you sort things with your boyfriend?”, a female voice asked. It was the girl from the bathroom. You rolled your eyes somewhat playfully at her.

“No”, you snorted. “I came to speak to him and he was all over another girl”, you told her. Your eyes darted over to where you’d last seen Harry. “That’s him there, sucking face with the blonde”.

“I hope he’s your ex-boyfriend now”, she told you, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s complicated”, you admitted, looking down in shame. It wasn’t news to you that you were letting Harry treat you like a doormat, but you had yet to muster up the courage to leave him. Just as you looked up, ready to offer to explain it over a drink, someone behind you shoved you, sending you catapulting into the girl’s arms.

“Careful there, can’t have you falling for me already. I’ve not even started flirting yet”, she told you with a smirk. “Martha”, she said politely, holding out a hand.

“Y/N”, you told her with a shy smile as you accepted her outstretched hand.

“Care for a dance?”, Martha asked you, pulling you closer with the hand that was still in hers.

You didn’t care if Harry and his friends watched as your bodies rolled together. Harry had never danced with you on a night out like this, never held you shamelessly in a club for everyone to see. Harry had never held your face so securely as he pulled you in for a kiss in front of everyone around you.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”, you heard beside you.

“Is this the boyfriend?”, Martha asked once she’d pulled back and let her eyes flutter open, eyeing Ethan up and down as soon as she had.

“The boyfriend’s best friend”, you told her, preparing to step out of her hold.

“Last time I checked, the boyfriend was preoccupied with someone else. Get him to come and find me when he wants his girlfriend. We’ll be right here”, she said, voice powerful and allowing no argument as her arms held you closer.

Harry never came to find you. The two of you left the club in separate taxis and you left with a new number saved in your phone.

-

You should be with someone else - Someone who is not myself

“Harry, you deserve so much better”, you heard a voice say as you walked into Harry’s apartment. You walked down the hallway quietly, lingering just behind the door frame to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“We’ve been together for so long, though”, Harry sighed.

“Did you not see what she did the other night? She was all over some other chick!”, a voice, Simon’s, exclaimed.

“Maybe it was just a mistake, y’know”, Harry tried to reason.

“She’s not good for you, Harry”, JJ, this time, said.

You’d heard enough. You turned the corner, coming face to face with all 7 of the boys. “Y/N…”, Harry trailed off.

“No, no. Carry on talking about me, it’s fine”, you said, voice lathered in artificial sweetness.

“Damnit, Y/N, it wasn’t like that”, Harry snapped, surprising everyone but you. “What are you doing?”, he asked as you started gathering a blanket off of the back of the sofa and plucking a hoodie off of the back of a dining room chair..

“Getting my shit and going”, you hissed.

“You’re being dramatic”, Harry scolded.

“No, Harry. I’ve put up with your bullshit since we were 18. I’m sick and tired of it. I’ve put my life on hold for long enough. You need someone, but I’m not that someone anymore. I’m sick of looking after you and letting your friends hate me just because you’re too much of a coward to tell them the truth”, you spat.

“We know everything, Y/N”, Ethan said smugly, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

“So you know that I started my degree late because I had to get Harry sober? You know that he’s cheated on me more times than I can count? You know that I’ve tried for 6 fucking years to get him to love me as much as I love him and it’s never fucking worked!?”, you all but yelled, shocking everyone in front of you.

“You think I don’t love you?”, Harry asked, voice frustrated and angry.

“I know that you don’t love me as much as I love you”, you told him simply. “You cancelled 3 anniversary dates to go on nights out with the guys. You made me cancel a weekend away because you wanted to go to Dubai. You get annoyed when I try to do my uni work. You let Ethan and JJ slag me off, practically to my face, and didn’t say a fucking word”, you told him.

You looked at Harry, waiting for a reaction. “Do you know how heartbreaking it is to hear my boyfriend’s best friends, people I’ve known for 6 years, say that I’m punching and that you deserve better? Did you think about how much it hurt me when you didn’t even flinch at what they said?”.

Harry’s face lit up in anger. “It’s not like you’ve been a good girlfriend!”, he spat.

“Because being a good girlfriend to you is like a full time job. It’s a full time job and I haven’t had a day off in over 5 years. So yeah, I’ve been a bad girlfriend… Boo fucking hoo”, you grumbled.

Harry remained silent, a sheepish look crossing his face. “We can try again”, he suggested quietly.

“We have! Over and over again!”, you exclaimed, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. “I’m exhausted, Harry. I’m tired of looking after you when I’m just as hungover as you. I’m tired of not making plans because I literally can not afford for you to cancel on me anymore. You don’t value me or anything that I do. Your friends hate me and you don’t care. I’ve been your last priority for years and I’m sick of it. We’re done. I’ll put your stuff in a box and bring it round”, you told him, voice losing more and more strength as you spoke.

“Y/N…”, Harry tried, reaching for your arm.

“Don’t”.

[youngbeezer]

For the tiktok stories waking up early to watch the sunrise with Nolan Patrick

Referenced Post

Prompt-- 12. Waking up early to watch the sunrise

A/N: Here's another blurb from the 14 oddly romantic things blurb set. Sorry it has taken me so long to post another one, I've been having very little motivation to write lately so hopefully this isn't too bad.

Thanks for requesting this, hope you like it :)

Word Count: 975

Warning(s): none i dont think, ending kinda sucks

join my taglist :)

Quietness surrounds me as my mind awakens before my body. I lay motionless for a few minutes trying to even out my breath once more, but my mind does not seem to want to cooperate. Realizing there is no chance of me falling back asleep, I roll onto my side where my bedside table is to focus my bleary eyes on the clock to check what time it is.

4:58 AM.

I throw my head back onto the pillows in annoyance. Rolling onto my side once more, now in the opposite direction, I find my boyfriend still in a deep slumber. I contemplate wanting to either stay in bed and to try to force myself back to sleep, or just cave in and get up and start my day. Going for the latter, I carefully peel the comforter and sheets off of my body, trying not to disturb my tired boyfriend. As soon as my bare feet hit the cold hardwood floors, I hear Nolan grumble a little bit before eventually rolling to the other side.

I let out a sigh of relief and then made my way to the bathroom to do my business and wash my face. Before heading to the kitchen, I grab my phone and my favorite fluffy blanket off the corner chair in our bedroom and slip on a pair of slippers.

While starting a pot of coffee, I check my phone to see what time the sunrise is. Seeing that I have a good 25 minutes before the sun begins to ascend, I take my time making my coffee and looking through some of my social media. Once I start to hear the first few chirps coming from the birds outside, I decide to then go ahead and make my way onto the balcony that will give me the perfect view of the sunrise over the Philly skyline. The air still smells of the night time as I shiver a little, basking in the last bit of quietness before the sun arises and the hustle and bustle of the day begins.

I’m broken out of the quietness when I hear the sliding glass door of the balcony creak open. I crane my neck to find Nolan-- with his crazy bedhead and bleary eyes, walking out into the crisp air.

“What are you doing awake?” I croak out my first words of the morning.

“I could ask you the same thing.” His already deep voice intensified from just waking up.

I give him a little shrug. “My body just decided to wake up now. Did I wake you?”

He lifts his arms above his head and does a big stretch while shaking his head no.

I ignore the way his shirt lifts up a little revealing a slither of his v-line and focus my eyes back on him giving him a questioning glare.

He huffs at my expression and finally relents, “I wanted to cuddle with you, but you weren’t there.”

I coo at that whereas Nolan blushes and rolls his eyes at my antics. He motions for me to get up, which I do, where he then takes my previous place and pulls me into his lap. I fix the blanket to where it is now covering us both and immediately snuggle closer to Nolan’s body. He gives me a little kiss on the forehead, where my head is currently laying on his chest, and wraps his arms tighter around me.

Slowly the first few rays of sunlight peeked over the edge of the Philly skyline casting pinkish/goldish hues in the sky. The first rays of the sun are cool and bracing to our tired eyes. As the golden disc seemed to be rising more and more, you could hear the birds singing their morning tunes, and there was a quick moment of serene and calmness as the world around us felt like it was stopped in time, allowing us to capture this peaceful moment. Finally, as the sun gets higher in the sky, the day’s activities begin. You can hear the early-risers already up and at them bustling through the streets, the cars whizzing through the traffic lights, and the beautiful sounds of the trash truck making its way through the town. Gotta love city life.

I sigh contently in Nolan’s arms, reveling in the last few moments of peace before we go and get a head start on our day.

“Thank you for staying out here with me.” I whisper to Nolan.

He responds by giving my forehead another kiss and then mumbles into my hair, “Of course. I’d do anything if it meant starting my mornings with you by my side.”

I sit up a little and bring my hands to play with his overgrown hair. I smile at the slight blush that currently overtakes my boyfriend's cheeks after his last confession.

“Ya know mornings make you all lovey dovey and say all these cute things.” I tease lightly.

His blush turns an even darker shade of pink at that and he turns his face away from me to try and hide it. I gently grab hold of his chin and bring his face back towards mine to bring our lips together. The kiss is sweet and short since neither of us have yet to brush our teeth, and it is still very early in the morning for things to get too heated. But it’s still all we need. As we pull apart, I mumble against his lips,

“I love you,”

“I love you too.” He drawled, bringing me back in for one more kiss.

“Hm, wait. Does this mean you’ll wake up with me again tomorrow to watch the sunrise?”

He groaned, and I let out a light laugh while snuggling back into his chest already thinking about how today is going to be a great day.

Tagging a few people so this doesn't flop,,,

@heatherawoowoo @barzysandmarnersbitch @matbarzls @barzy-xoxo @joelfarabeezer @luukasreichel @lovereadinghockeyy @only-goalies-allowed @rosesvioletshardy @bb-nhlqueen7 @yungbeez @youngbeez @cherrybarzy @2manytabsopen @carepriceisgoodathockey @prettyboyjackhughes @turcsandzegras @iwantahockeyhimbo @farabees

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Learn to Skate - Alex Morgan x Hockey!Reader

Prompt: Alex Morgan imagine with Charlie where Alex had Charlie before her and the reader started dating but think of the reader as her other mom as well? Plus the reader plays hockey and Alex and Charlie (if couple members of the team as well) shows up to a game to support the reader , Alex and Charlie is also wearing the readers jersey (with the number 29) please?

Note: I aged Charlie a little for this one. 

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Y/N said out of nowhere while both women packed for their respective team camps.

Both women would be in Boston for the next two weeks with their national teams, Y/N for hockey and Alex for soccer. Y/N would be playing at the end of the first week, Alex at the end of the second.

“I feel like I should be concerned about that,” Alex hesitated.

“And now I feel like I should be offended your concerned.”

Alex just rolled her eyes at her girlfriend, staring at her, waiting for her to continue.

“It’s time for Charlie to learn to skate.”

“She’s only three!”

“She can stand, kind of, so she can learn to skate,” Y/N shrugged, grinning.

“First of all, she will be playing soccer before she will be playing hockey. Second, she’s only three!”

“That doesn’t count, you said three twice,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “besides, that’s the perfect time to learn. She’s young, bones are nice and pliable.”

“You are not helping your argument!” Alex looked shocked at Y/N.

“I’m kidding!” Y/N said with a laugh, “I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

Alex just continued to watch Y/N, Y/N just looked back.

“So, you’re saying, if Charlie happened to end up with a pair of skates, she wouldn’t be allowed to break them in?”

“No!”

“Alright, good talk,” Y/N nodded, slowly making her way to the bedroom door. “On an unrelated note, I’m just going to get check Charlies bag is packed for camp.”

“You were trying to sneak skates into her bag, weren’t you?” Alex questioned.

“They were a gift from my sponsor! I’ll put them in my equipment bag, when you change your mind, we can test then out.”

“When I change my mind?” Alex repeats.

“Yea, we both know you can’t say no to me and Charlie,” Y/N grinned, shooting Alex a wink as she walked out of the room.

For the next week Alex did her best to keep Y/N involved with Charlie while they both stayed at separate hotels. The couple made sure they facetimed every night, Y/N saying goodnight to Charlie before Alex would put her to bed.

“What do you have on their munchkin?” Y/N asked Charlie the night before her game.

“Jersey!” Charlie shouted into the phone, while seated on Alex’s lap. Charlie was wearing a slightly too big blue and white jersey, a large smile on her face.

“Oddly enough, a box with a couple jerseys like this was left with one of our staff today,” Alex said with a grin and faux confusion.

“Hmm, that is odd,” Y/N said coyly.

“Mama jersey!” Charlie repeated, not liking being left out of the conversation.

“That’s a cool jersey! You going to wear it to hockey tomorrow?” Y/N asked, already aware Alex would be coming her game with Charlie and a few other players.

“Yes!”

“She wants to sleep in it,” Alex roller her eyes.

“She’s gotta ready for hockey! Right Kiddo?” Y/N teased.

“Ready for hockey!” Charlie mimicked Y/N.

“Do not encourage her! She needs to go to sleep soon,” Alex warned.

“No sleep, hockey!” Charlie argued.

“The faster you go to sleep, faster you can go to hockey Munchkin,” Y/N suggested.

Charlie scrambled off Alex’s lap to lay under her blankets.

“Looks like we are going to sleep now,” Alex laughed at her daughter pretending to be asleep, still clad in her new hockey jersey.

“Looks like it,” Y/N laughed too. “Goodnight Charlie!” Y/N spoke up for the little girl to hear.

“Night Mama!”

“There should be another jersey for her in the box, and one for you too.”

The women said goodnight, Alex needing to finish getting Charlie ready for bed before the little girl really did fall asleep.

Alex spent the next day keeping her daughter busy until it was time to go to Y/N’s hockey game in the afternoon. The little girl had slept in her jersey, refusing to take it off the next morning as well. Proudly wearing it to the team breakfast, telling all the soccer players about her Mama the hockey player. Of course, they all already had met Y/N, many planning on coming to the game in the evening as well.

“Watcha wearing the goober?” Emily asked as she ran into the banquet room.

“Mama jersey!” Charlie yelled.

“Mamas hockey jersey?” Lindsey asks.

“Yes! Gonna watch Mama play!”

“Cool! We are too!” Emily matched the girls excitement.

Charlie froze, stunned at the prospect of someone else coming with her and her Mom to be going to her Mama’s game. Lindsey scooped the girl up under her arms, pressing her above her head.

“You bet! We are leaving right now.”

The team were all spread throughout the box while the game played on the ice below. Charlie disappointed because she was too far to see which one her Mama was. Several of the soccer players taking turns keeping Charlie off the railing, preventing her from falling.

“That mama?” Charlie asked again, point to a random player on the ice again.

“You gotta look for her number goober,” Emily explained. “Look for the number like mom’s, it needs a big two and a big nine” she motioned to the back of Alex’s matching jersey.

Charlie stared at Alex’s jersey, trying to memorize what it looked like to find the matching one on the ice. She shifted her attention to the ice, focused on finding her Mama’s jersey. Her focus remaining on the ice the entire game, determined to see Y/N as much as she could.

Unlike soccer, they couldn’t make their way to the ice after the game. They were able to go to the tunnels just before the game would finish to see some of the players. Alex struggling to keep Charline in her grasp as they made their way down.

The group made it under the stands just as the game ended. Alex kept her hands on Charlies shoulders as the players made their way in.

“Mama jersey!” Charlie shouted, finally seeing the bright blue jersey with the number “29” on the back.

“Hey you! I have a jersey like that!” Y/N made her way over, still in her full equipment.

Alex finally let Charlie rush over to Y/N, who immediately took off to meet Y/N, jumping into her.

Y/N awkwardly knelt down, leaning her weight on stick as Charlie stepped to stand on the toes of her skates.

Charlie grabbed at Y/N jersey, stretching it towards her own to see that they’re the same.

Alex made her way to the pair, Y/N standing up the place a quick kiss to her lips.

“Great game babe,” Alex kissed her again.

“Did you hear us cheer mama?” Charlie asked, looking up from her stance on Y/N’s skates.

“Of course I heard you cheering Munchkin!”

Charlie lifted her feet on the skates, testing the durability. Y/N matched the motions, lifting her feet with Charlies. The little girl giggling at the action. She hopped off, kneeling down to inspect the skates closer. Cautious of the small hands at her feet, Y/N kept as still as she could.

Alex watched on as Charlie tugged at the laces and poked the hard toes.

“You guys allowed back out on the ice?”

Y/N’s head shot towards the soccer player.

“If it means what I think you mean, then yes!” Y/N said excited.

Alex just nodded.

“Hey munchkin, you want to try on your own skates?”

Charlie shot up, jumping up and down in place.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Alright, you, lets go get some on and test them out!”

Y/N reached down to hold Charlies hand and lead her to the change room.

A few minutes later the duo came out of the change room, slowly walking along as Charlie tested the skates under her feet, Y/N walking behind holding both of her hands. Y/N having taken off most of her equipment, leaving her jersey on

Alex snapped several pictures as they waddled towards the ice.

Y/N stepped onto the ice first, turning and letting Charlie take tentative step on the ice.

Alex nervously watched from the bench as the Y/N skate backwards, pulling Charlie by her hands. Her heart swelling as she watched them skate in matching jerseys, her own still on.

Finally, the pair made their way back to the boards, Y/N lifted Charlie up to sit on the edge while she excitedly told Alex all about skating.

Lindsey and Emily both quietly taking pictures of the small family, all in matching number 29 jerseys.

[drabbles-mc]

Burnt

Kozik x OFC (Tawnie Trager)

Inspired by Day 16 of the July Prompts: sunscreen

Part 2 can be found Here

Warnings: language

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Me? Back at it again with another slice of life fic? It’s more likely than you think! In my head this takes place on the same day as my other SOA Beach Day fic Say Cheese but the stories exist separately from one another. Also, if you’re interested in this pairing you can check out these fics: X X

SOA Taglist: @garbinge​ @masterlistforimagines​ @adela-topaz-caelon​ @chibsytelford​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @i-just-read-stuff​ @jitterbugs927​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @unicornucopia-fuckers​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @punkgoddess-98​ @paintballkid711​ @black-repunzel99​ @lexondeck​ @mrsstevenbuchananstark​ (If you want to be added just let me know!)

“Dad,” she aggressively shoved the bottle of sunscreen into his hand, “Dad just put it on.”

“No,” Tig tossed it over onto the towel, “I’m not putting that on. I don’t need it. I’ll be fine.”

Rolling her eyes, she picked the bottle back up. She squeezed a generous amount onto her hand and then proceeded to slap it onto his chest, “You’re tough but you’re not tougher than the fucking sun. Get over yourself.”

He groaned as he looked down at the mess of lotion that was on him now, “You fucking kidding me, T?”

“Nope,” she shook her head as she rubbed some into her own arms and legs.

Once she was done, she looked around to see who else was close. She loved all the boys in the club, but she would be the first to tell them all when they were being idiots. She was adamant about the whole sunscreen thing ever since they all decided to do a beach day together. The guys had given her shit about it at first, wondering when she became so concerned with those kinds of things, but when it came down to it the last thing they wanted was the pain that came from serious sunburn. So, most of them silently put some on, refusing to make eye contact with each other and acknowledge the situation.

“Kozik!” she called over to the man who was laying out towels for each of them.

His head whipped up, instantly looking over at her, “Yea?”

“You got some on?” she waved the bottle in his direction.

“Let him get burned,” Tig mumbled under his breath as he wiped away the last of the lotion that his daughter had caught him with.

Tawnie ignored the comment, shaking her head slightly as she waited for Kozik’s answer. He made his way over to her, reassuring her that, yes, he had put some on the second they got to the beach. He knew that there was no way she was going to let him get away with anything else, and she was the last person that he wanted to be pissing off.

“Can you get my back?” she asked as she handed him the bottle, pulling her hair out of the way.

“Um,” he could feel Tig’s eyes boring into him, “sure.”

Kozik silently prayed to whatever gods there were that Tig wasn’t going to pick him up and drown him in the ocean. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but he also wondered if that would make things worse. And she must’ve sense the tension, too, because she glanced back over her shoulder and looked at her father, eyebrows raised.

“You want him to get your back too, Dad?” she asked.

Kozik’s entire body froze up as he waited for the fallout. Surprisingly enough, Tig just sighed and shook his head before turning and walking down towards the water, “Those hands go below her shoulders and you’re a fucking dead man, Kozik.”

She chuckled quietly as he finished applying the sunscreen, “He’s full of it. You know that, right?”

“You sound pretty confident but I’m not so sure,” he chuckled as he closed the bottle and tossed it back into her bag.

“If he was going to kill you, he totally would have done it already.”

“That’s…that’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

She laughed as she pressed her palms flat against his chest and pressed a light kiss to his lips, “Just relax. Who knows when we’re going to be able to all have a fun day together.”

“And what are you going to spend your fun day doing? Besides assaulting people with sunblock?”

She gave him a playful shove, “Shut up. I’m gonna go fucking swimming, duh. I haven’t been to the beach in ages,” she paused, tilting her head slightly, “What’re you gonna do?”

“Watch you swim,” a smirk crept across his face.

She couldn’t stop herself from laughing. It’d been an interesting, and slightly bumpy, road for the two of them to get to where they were at now. But she was happy about it, about him. And despite the constant pushback from her father, there was a certain type of ease and comfort that came from being with him. She knew that she wouldn’t have ever been able to be with someone who didn’t understand the type of life she lived, and no one understood it better than a man who was actually SAMCRO. But as she stood there looking at him, smiling with a few streaks of sunscreen still on his cheeks, he was more than just a guy from the MC. She never knew what it felt like to date someone who was your best friend until then.

She snapped herself out of her sappy thoughts with a shake of her head, “Don’t let my dad catch you leering.”

“I thought you said he was full of it?”

“I mean,” she laughed as she skipped off towards the water, “nothing is a hundred percent.”

He shook his head and watched her as she took off to go swim and cause whatever kinds of trouble she could manage to stir up along the way. Being with a Trager was a lot of things, but it was certainly never boring.

The afternoon sun was beating down on all of them. Most of them had found their way back to their chairs and towels and started digging into the food and drinks that they had brought with them. Tawnie was camped out on her towel, watching the volleyball game that was happening. Her father and Opie were pitted against Jax and Kozik, and to all of their credit it was shaping up to be a pretty competitive game. But she did notice the fact that Tig’s shoulders were getting redder and redder as the minutes went by—clearly he hadn’t put any extra sunscreen on except what she had forced on him. She shook her head silently, a smug smile creeping across her face. He’d have to learn the hard way, the way that he did with most things.

“Game point!” she called out before taking a sip of her beer.

“Better win this one for your girl, Kozik,” Jax quipped with a laugh.

She chuckled but she could see it on her father’s face that he was not at all amused by the comment. He dove, saving the ball from hitting the sand. There was now a new level of determination and desire to win. He never wanted Kozik to win at anything, but now there was an extra layer on top of it all.

The four of them were going back and forth for a while. Tawnie sat back, unable to hide the fact that she was incredibly impressed by them. Her eyes went wide when she saw Kozik jump up, spiking the ball down onto the other side of the net with an incredible amount of force. She couldn’t contain her laughter as she started clapping.

“Way to bring it home!” she beamed over at him.

“Lucky shot,” Tig said, already shaking his head.

Despite the tension that had been present during the game, once it was over everything went back to business as usual, which Tawnie was incredibly thankful for.

Tig was walking ahead, talking to Jax and Opie while she hung back with Kozik. She slipped her hand into his as they walked, smiles on both of their faces.

“You think it’s alright that I didn’t let him win?” he asked with a smirk.

She laughed, nodding, “It’s good for him. I’m thinking of it as karma for not using sunblock.”

“I think the blisters that are gonna be on his shoulders tomorrow will be karma enough.”

“Maybe,” she laughed, leaning against his side.

He glanced down at her, admiring her still-damp hair and the little patches of sand that were still stuck to parts of her stomach and arms. She looked so at home at the beach, and he had never felt more at home than when he felt her pressed up against his side.

“We should do this shit more often,” he said as they walked along the shore, waves lapping at their feet.

“Yea, well,” she chuckled, “When you guys take a break from your life of crime, we can do big family beach days whenever you want.”

“I’ll bring it up in church next time.”

She laughed, “Well,” she lifted their interlocked hands and kissed his knuckles, “you gotta let me know how that conversation goes.”

“If I live through it, you’ll be the first to know,” he smiled as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

The sound of Tig’s voice cut through the softness of their moment, “Hey! I said no hands below the shoulders!”

[kaitycole]

losing what he never had

Summary: Bokuto recounts the worst day of his life that all started with a phone call.

Pairing: Bokuto x fem!reader

Word Count: 2822

Warnings: Angst. Pure fucking angst. Character death. Slight mention of pregnancy loss.  

A/N: Thanks to @cosmicmermaid25​ for this prompt. She said “make me cry” I hope this lives up to it. 

“I was supposed to be there, at home with you, but a match got rescheduled and I had to be in Tokyo. I was supposed to be there, driving with you to your doctor’s appointment because you wanted me with you, but instead I wasn’t and you were all alone.”

*                      * Present Day

Bokuto isn’t sure what he’s supposed to feel, but he does know that he feels empty and maybe a little lost. That feeling you get when you turn around in circles, first noticing the person you’re with isn’t there anymore. That feeling right before the panic sets in that you’re alone. Or maybe it’s more like when a strong wind blows in your face and you can’t catch breath, the struggle of quickly trying to block the overwhelming emotions that flood you as you try to breathe.

It’s been two months since he got the call, a phone call that shattered his entire world, that brought him down to his knees and nothing in his life has been the same. Like looking through a shattered mirror, hoping to see a complete image.

It had been on the calendar for weeks, the day that Y/N had her doctor’s appointment and she didn’t really like driving to far places alone, so of course being the doting boyfriend, Bokuto offered to drive. He didn’t mind, in fact he rather enjoyed driving and a part of him really enjoyed Y/N depending on him. She didn’t need to, she could hold her own, but he loved to feel needed and was confident that his partner knew that too.

But there was a storm, a match between MSBY and Schweiden Adlers had to be reschedule, but it became an away game and as fate would have it, it was scheduled for the same day as the appointment. Bokuto apologized profusely to his partner, swearing if he could sit out then he would, but she brushed off his worries, saying she understood, it wasn’t a big deal. Sometimes having such an understanding partner could hurt.

*                      * Two months ago – 7:45 AM

*alarm noises*

Bokuto picks up his phone, clicking end on the alarm, but truth be told, he had been up for a while. It’s weighing down on him that he can’t be there for his girlfriend, knowing she is getting ready to do something that she isn’t comfortable doing to begin with.

“Ko?” Her voice still sounds full of sleep, even though he knows by now she’s already had her morning tea and shower.

“’Morning babe. I just wanted to call before you left.” He steps out of the hotel room, out into the hallway. There’s a deeper meaning weighing his words, worry for her trip, but he’s hoping she doesn’t take it as doubt.

“You have perfect timing.” He hears the door locking in the background, “I was just walking out of the apartment.”

“I wish I could’ve been there to take you. Or that you’d have agreed to let Akaashi go with you.” He knows she can do it, but it doesn’t alleviate any guilt he has knowing that she didn’t really want to go alone.

“You can’t help a scheduling change and I’ll be okay, it’s not too far, ya know?” There’s a bit of hesitation in her voice and it kills Bokuto to know there’s nothing he can do. He tried to get her to reschedule but she said it had taken her a while to just get this one, she didn’t know how long it’d take to get another.

He sits on the ground next to his hotel room’s door, leaning back against the wall. “I know, but I still like feeling needed.” “Ko,” there’s a smile in her tone, “I’ll always need you. I gotta go, good luck at your game!”

“I love you. Be safe.”

“Love too you Ko!”

He stares at his phone, the screen now black and he can’t help but feel this pit in his stomach, like something’s eating at him. He pushes himself off the ground, trying to shake off the feeling, chalking it up to pre-game jitters.

*                      * 10:30 AM

It’s nearing the end of the first set of the match against the Adler that Bokuto’s focus seems to be withering. Hinata starts trying to pick up the slack on Bo’s end and Atsumu gets pissed off enough to stop setting to him altogether, which helps but the Adlers are quick to use that as a weak spot for MSBY. After the first set, Adlers in the lead, Coach Foster makes the decision to bench Bo.

Bokuto flops down on the bench, accepting a water bottle from the team’s manager. He hates this feeling, especially when he proudly told Akaashi and Atsumu that he wasn’t the moody guy that he was back in high school, and here he was letting whatever this feeling is affect his gameplay.

“Just cool down and clear your head.” Coach Foster says, not taking his eyes off the court.

Bokuto leans forward, his head between his knees as he steadies his breathing, letting go of everything that feels like it’s weighing him down. He knows that she’s fine, she promised him that she would be and he lets the comfort of her voice clear his mind before he makes eye contact with his coach, telling him that he’s ready now.

*                      * 1:55 PM

She should be home by now, right?

Bokuto looks down at his phone again, her voicemail echoing from the other end. Once Bokuto’s mind was clear, the Black Jackal dominated the court and took the win, but even with the various cheers filling the locker room, Bo found himself feeling miles away from the celebration.

He clicks on her thread once more, the last text having been from a few days ago about dinner, no “got here safely” text from today and that makes his stomach sink. He tries calling again, trying to rationalize that maybe it hadn’t gone through the first time, locker rooms had shaky cell reception, right? But he gets her voicemail once again, glances up at the clock, noting that maybe she was eating lunch or taking a nap, she’d been napping a lot more lately.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Bo!” Hinata says, patting his teammate on the back.

“C’mon, let’s go get something to eat!” Atsumu yells and a few other teammates quickly agree.

Bo lets out a sigh, shaking the thoughts from his head, “yeah, okay.”

*                      * 2:30 PM

Bokuto walks out of the hotel, most of the team already waiting out front, he doesn’t want to get food, he’d rather head back home, but the team is scheduled for a meet and greet tonight. Meaning chances of him leaving before tomorrow morning are slim. He looks down at his phone, an unknown number is calling, but before he can ignore it, the almost paralyzing feeling that weighed him down on the court grips around him.

“Hello?” His voice is shaking, Hinata and Atsumu walk over to him, both lost in whatever they were talking about to notice the shift in Bokuto’s demeanor.

“I’m calling for a Bokuto-san. Is this them?” “Yeah, I’m Boku—” He can’t finish his sentence, his mind racing with various thoughts, negative thoughts dry his mouth, causing a lump in a throat, like his body already knows what he’s about to hear. Hinata looks between him and Atsumu, clearly concerned for his teammate and friend, while Atsumu leans into the other side of the phone, hoping to overhear.

“You’re listed as an emergency contact for a L/N F/N.” There’s a pause that last about five seconds too long for Bokuto’s worried mind.

He doesn’t really hear anything after that, just snippets of the unfamiliar voice on the other side.

There was an accident…

…emergency surgery.

How soon…

…be here?

Atsumu catches Bokuto’s phone as his hand just lets it go, his mind still racing as the color drains from his face. He turns, running back into the hotel, using the stairs to get to his room because his anxious mind couldn’t take the wait for an elevator. Hinata and Atsumu run after him, but all he can hear is the thumping of his heart in his ears, his vision getting blurry from either tears or shock, he’s not too sure.

He fumbles with the keycard to get into the room, all but slamming it against the sensor before flinging the door open. He’s panicked, looking around the room trying to figure out what he needs right now, what should he take, he was never good at this thing, Y/N is always the one who packs things for him.

By the time Hinata and Atsumu have caught up to him, he’s mumbling to himself, Sakusa stepping out of the room next door to see what all the noise is from.

“I’ll fly. I’ll fly back to Osaka.” Bokuto says, looking for his passport, because in his mind airport equals passport.

“That’d take too long Bokuto.” Sakusa slowly steps into the room, trying to reason with him, “by the time you got a flight you could’ve already been back.”

Bokuto looks back towards the door, towards three of his teammates and the expression on his face could break their hearts. His bottom lip is poked out in a worried pout, his hair drooping down, almost like it’s deflated. None of them know what to do or to say, this is Akaashi’s or Y/N’s territory, not theirs.

“The train, Bo. That’s the fastest to get to her.”

He starts nodding, patting his pockets to make sure he has his wallet and quickly grabs a hoodie, as he starts making his way out of the room, his face void of any expression or emotion.

Keys.

Check.

Wallet.

Check.

Phone.

Check.

He pauses, still panicked, “I don’t have my passport. Where is it? I need it!”

Atsumu wants to grab and push Bokuto out of the room, to yell that he doesn’t need a passport to get on the train, but Hinata rushing into the room, swiping it from the inside pocket that lined his duffle bag. It’s where Y/N had told Bo to keep it so he wouldn’t worry about losing it or walking out of the hotel without it and where he’s kept it ever since.

“Here you go.” Hinata hands it to the wing spiker, noting that Bokuto’s eyes look dead, there’s no light in them like usual. “C’mon, let’s get to the train station.”

*                      * 6 PM

Bokuto bolts into the hospital, frantically looking around the sterile white building, breathlessly. He walks up to the first person that he sees in a white coat, not really caring how he looks to anyone.

“I…got a call…”

“Patient name?”

He tells the doctor her name, watching the woman’s face drop just slightly before becoming stoic again. “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

“After I see her…” His words are desperate, like he’s hanging on from the edge, getting ready to fall at any moment. The pain in his eyes clearly evident to the woman as she tries to figure out what to do, how to handle the situation. “Please.”

“We tried….there wasn’t…I’m sorry…”

He shakes his head, as if the motion alone would change what he’s about to hear, what he’s feared since he got the call. His fingers run through his hair, tugging on it slight to ground him because it feels unreal, like he’s watching this unfold from outside his own body.

“…your losses.”

Bokuto’s attention instantly refocuses, eyes lined with tears that are seconds from falling, such a pathetic expression in his eyes. “What?”

“I just assumed you knew.” The doctor shifts awkwardly on her feet, “it seems she was 11 weeks pregnant.”

*                      * 7:12 PM

“Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto’s sitting next to the hospital bed where Y/N is, holding her hand, half asleep, the mix of crying and the adrenaline wearing off has drained him. He’s been there practically since he arrived, refusing to leave her, refusing to accept that she’s anything but sleeping.

“Bokuto-san.”

He looks up, eyes red and puffy, his nose stuffy as he breathes through it, turning slightly to see the owner of the voice, never letting go of her hand. Though it doesn’t feel like her hand, it’s cold which isn’t unlike her, she’s always been warm. She brought a warmth to Bokuto’s life and he’s not sure he’s ready to let it go, he’s not sure that he can let go.

Akaashi walks in the room, placing a hand on Bo’s right shoulder, “Bokuto-san, let’s get you home.”

“I can’t…leave her…here.” He starts choking on the sobs that rip through his throat, “she won’t know where she is.”

“I know, but it’s getting late.”

“We can go…after she wakes up, okay? Yeah, yeah,” his voice raises a little bit, like he’s satisfied with the idea he’s come up with, “that way…I can let her…know I’ll be back.”

Akaashi takes a deep breath, he thought he’d seen every side of Bokuto, that he knew all of his weaknesses and strengths, that he was the one of the few people that could ground Bokuto, but he’s out of his element here. How do you tell your best friend the love of his life isn’t going to wake up?

“Boku—” “Aka—Keiji,” He steadies his breath, a small sob cracks his voice, “I know…she’s gone, but once I leave we won’t be a family of three, it’ll just…it’ll just be me.”

Akaashi feels his own tears starting to form, trying to blink them away, he has to be strong for his best friend. He squeezes his hand on Bokuto’s shoulder when he feels him start to tremble, to shake underneath him, cries filling the room. He wants to tell Bokuto that it’s time to leave, that they really need to be going, but how do you take someone away from something that wasn’t theirs yet?

*                      * Present Day

Bokuto’s never really believed in a higher power, he doesn’t give much thought to horoscopes or pay any attention when people swear they had “feelings” about something, but looking back on that day, something didn’t sit right in his stomach after their call ended. And that’s something that has plagued his thoughts ever since.

If only he had called her back, begged for her to just miss the appointment, maybe…maybe she wouldn’t have…

He shakes his head, tears trailing his cheeks, he knows it won’t do him any good to think that way, but how could he not? Looking back, he knows something was trying to tell him to stop her, but he didn’t, he just let her go and this was the outcome of his choice.

“Sorry I didn’t come for a few days, we had another away game, but Akaashi told me that he came a few times to keep you company.” He wipes the tears, smearing this across his face. “I’ve gotten better at packing my bags now, though Sakusa still brings extra toiletries for me.”

He tilts his head to the side, realizing that sometimes if he stopped thinking, it still felt like she was there, so much of her still part of his daily interactions, bits of her still sprinkled through his decisions.

Laundry’s still done on Wednesdays because she liked doing it in the middle of the week.

Take-out for dinner on Saturdays because that was always their at-home date night.

Passport can still be found in the lining pocket of his duffle bag when he’s traveling.

Her favorite tea brand is still in the cabinets because Bokuto still brews it just so the house smells like her.

“I was picked to play on the Japan National Team in the Olympics this year, Y/N. You always said I could do it.” He fumbles in his pocket, grabbing the small item that’s been weighing down on him. “I never told you, but I had big plans for if I made it to the Olympics.”

Bokuto places a small black velvet box on top of the tombstone, his fingers dragging across the smooth surface, letting his hand fall when it reaches the end. He whispers that he loves her one more time before he heads back to the parking lot, Kuroo was waiting there. Even without her around, he was never alone, not really, one of his friends was always finding an excuse to stay with him which he didn’t mind.

It hurts, hurts to try to figure out a life without her, knowing that if things had been different they’d be getting ready for a baby. Part of him wants to fall apart acknowledging that, knowing that in some alternate universe she’s his wife and mother of his child, that he’s a dad, but he can’t because it feels wrong to mourn over something that was never his to begin with.

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part Four

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, various characters in other chapters

Warnings: language, making out

Chapter Summary: You go on a short trip to Massachusetts to see Peter, Bucky takes you on a second date, someone gets caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Author’s Note: This was going to be a filler but it has a decent amount of necessary plot and progression. The next part will have a time jump so I don’t have to include a bunch of filler chapters, blehk. Let me know if you see my Avatar: The Last Airbender reference in here! And as always, you’re welcome to send me a coffee!

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Tags: @kennedywxlsh @ursmolbunny @devilswaldorf

By the time Monday rolled around, you were thankful Bucky had training in the morning or you would’ve never gone to sleep. Most of the deeper subjects had been touched on when you were together on Saturday, so Sunday was just texting more playful banter and fun facts you hadn’t learned during your lab hangouts, but you two still talked until your phone was propped up on your pillow waiting for another message while you drifted in and out of sleep.

Bucky had sent you a sweet “good morning, doll” text for you to wake up to, but you didn’t talk much before you had to head to work and he had to work out with Steve. That’s the downside to waking up with just enough time to get ready. Not much wiggle room for distractions, no matter how delicious.

You had barely settled in to your workspace, specs for Sam’s wings pulled up in front of you, when you had a request for a FaceTime call from Peter, of all people. You hadn’t seen him in a few weeks since he went back to campus, but he was set to come back soon for a weekend.

“Hey Peter, what’s up?” you answered.

“Hey [Y/N]! I, uh, I kind of have a big favor to ask,” he said with a forced chuckle.

“Oh… okay? What’s going on?”

“Well, you remember that project you wanted my help on?” You nodded. “Well I talked to my professor about it and he said I can use it as my final project for this semester as long as you come to the proposal and document what you did on it so I don’t take credit for any of your work. If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine! I can probably work on another project, I just don’t want to put your project off and make you wait for me to finish my part —“

“Peter!” you shouted, cutting off his rambling with a laugh. “I think that sounds great. It’ll be nice for you to kill two birds with one stone. When would I need to be there?”

“Uhh,” he started with another forced laugh. “My proposal is Wednesday.”

You stared at the screen, motionless at his response. “Wednesday. Like, two days from now, Wednesday?” Peter nodded. You could practically see him sweating through the phone, worrying about whether or not he should’ve asked his professor sooner or just completely avoided the subject entirely. But you knew he probably didn’t have much heads-up and considered using your project a little late in the game. “It’s a good thing I like you, kid. Let me double check with the boss but I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

“Yes! You’re the best!” Peter cheered.

“I’ll text you when my flight leaves because there’s no way I’m driving ten hours.”

You and Peter briefly went over how things would work, from what you should wear to whether you’d be getting a hotel room or bunking on his futon. While you were talking, you emailed your dad about the trip and got a quick approval. Tony liked Peter, and you understood why. He reminded you of your father if your dad had a stutter instead of an ego.

Mid-afternoon, when you took your second 20-minute break of the day just to let your brain relax, there was a soft tap on the door of your lab before Bucky poked his head in. He stepped in and looked around the whole room frantically before he noticed you curled up under a blanket on the giant bean bag chair you shoved into the corner once Peter left. You liked being able to take your breaks in the quiet of the lab so your brain could actually shut down for a few minutes.

“Oh, hey,” Bucky said with a smile.

“Hey Buck,” you replied, mirroring his smile. “How’s your day?”

“Pretty good,” he said with a sigh. “Just bored so I thought I’d see what you were up to.”

“Just taking a break,” you shrugged. “But you’re more than welcome to sit with me while I work. I won’t interact much because I lose focus easily but you can hang out.”

“As appealing as that is,” he started as he walked closer to you in your bean bag chair, “I know I’d start asking questions and I don’t want to distract you.”

You stood from your spot as he got closer and smirked up at him. “You are pretty distracting.” He stopped when he was toe-to-toe with you. “It’s a good thing my breaks are made for distraction.”

He smiled down at you as his warm hand curled around the back of your neck and pulled you into him for a kiss, your own hands looping through his belt and pulling his body closer to yours.

You practically melted into him, feeling as if you couldn’t get closer no matter how hard you tried. Even him slipping his thigh between your legs didn’t feel close enough. Then the weight of his metal hand fell to your waist as his tongue entered your mouth. It was all reminiscent of your first kiss just a couple days before.

Except outside your apartment, you didn’t have to worry about getting caught.

“Hey [Y/N], have you—“ You and Bucky quickly pulled apart at the sound of a new voice coming from the doorway and you immediately started to panic.

“—seen Bucky,” Steve ended with a sigh. The door quietly clicked shut behind him as he stepped in. “So you two…?”

“Have been on a date,” you said, walking toward Steve with your hands held out. “Steve, please don’t tell anyone, especially Tony.”

“You kind of owe me one, punk,” Bucky said as he walked closer, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I never ratted you out for lying on, what, five different enlistment papers?”

Steve huffed at this, clearly stuck between following the rules or letting others break rules that were much more harmless than his past rule breaking.

“You know this is gonna come out eventually, right? You won’t be able to hide this — and whatever this becomes — forever,” Steve warned.

“We know,” you said solemnly, “but it’s nice to just have this for now, you know?” You looked over at Bucky, who was leaning against the lab table looking back at you, his lips quirked in a small smile.

“Just… be careful,” Steve said as he started to leave. “If you don’t lock the door, at least ask Friday to alert you if someone is coming this way.”

“You know, I don’t care what people say about you, Steve. You’re pretty smart.” Steve initially smiled but then let out a short ‘hey!’ as you pushed him the rest of the way out.

“That was close,” you said, turning back to Bucky.

“But at least we have a pretty influential Avenger on our side, if we ever get outed,” Bucky said. Too bad he didn’t know the approval of everyone on earth would mean nothing to your dad — and both of your boss.

“Well, that little debacle kind of wasted the rest of my break,” you pouted, stepping up to Bucky.

“Can I take you out again?”

“I’d like that a lot,” you smiled. “Oh! I’m leaving for Massachusetts tomorrow and coming back on Thursday and have my family thing on Friday so will Saturday work?”

“Massachusetts?” Bucky asked, clearly missing the rest of your statement.

“Yeah, I’m helping Peter with a project so his prof wants me to be there to answer questions while he proposes his project. It’ll just be Wednesday, but Tony let me have tomorrow and Thursday off for travel so I’m taking my time.”

“That sounds…” Bucky started. “Uhh… I gotta be honest, that sounds unbearably boring,” he laughed, making you giggle with him. “But good luck to you and Peter. I’ll see you Saturday?”

•

The trip to Massachusetts was short but boring, and you were relieved to see Peter’s car when you stepped outside. Your hotel was right down the road from his dorm, so you dropped your stuff off before heading to his room to go over the proposal.

Even though you had only spent a few weeks working with Peter, he had grown to be like a brother to you. Spending so much time every day with no one else to talk to can really help people bond. Your dad’s adoration for the kid definitely helped, too. You wouldn’t be surprised if your dad eventually brought Peter along to family dinner.

“So I have to do most of the work, but you’ll need to explain why we’re doing this and what you’ll be doing,” Peter said after reviewing his speech.

“Okay, I can manage that.”

Peter was quiet for a second before saying, “Do you… maybe wanna go over what you’ll say…?”

“Oh, sure! Sorry, public speaking is a big thing in my family so I just figured I’d wing it.”

“Please don’t,” Peter said quietly, his eyes going wide right as the words left his mouth. “I don’t mean that in a bad way! I just mean, this proposal is important to me so I want it to go as smoothly and well-planned as possible.”

“Okay, you be your professor.”

Peter cleared his throat and said, “Miss [Y/L/N], what prompted you to start this project with Mr. Parker? And what role will you play in its growth?”

“Well, Dr. Kramer, I recently received a promotion within Stark Industries to work with the Avengers on their weaponry. This work included the vibranium arm on the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes. One thing I noticed early on was the lack of sensory receptors within the arm. That observation, along with a similar request from Mr, Barnes, prompted me to look into ways to change this. Mr. Parker has an internship with Mr. Stark so, considering our different areas of study, I sought out his help. With my knowledge and expertise on the mechanical side of things, Mr. Parker will primarily be working on the more biological side of things. Once he finds a way to connect new receptors to the spinal column through the current nerve channels, I’ll be able to create millions of micro-receptors that will need to essentially be surgically embedded in the vibranium. I already have the blueprints for this process; I’m more than willing to share those documents with you, though it is confidential and I would need you to sign an NDA for safety reasons.”

Peter stood in the middle of his room, speechless.

“I told you it runs in my family,” you laughed. “Now pick your jaw up off the floor. I’m hungry.”

The next day, Peter and you breezed through the proposal. Peter didn’t even stutter during his speech! But his classmates did bombard you with questions that the professor quickly shut down. You and Peter spent the rest of the day catching up. He introduced you to his girlfriend Michelle and his friends Ned and Flash. By the time you got back to your hotel that night, you were exhausted — and thankful for an afternoon flight.

The next morning, you got breakfast with Peter before his class and finished packing to fly back to New York. You were once again grateful for an afternoon flight because by the time you got back, you didn’t have time to get back to work. So you took the evening off and treated yourself to a bath, some wine, and your favorite Netflix series — and texting Bucky, of course.

Family dinner that week was much easier than the previous week. Your dad mainly asked about your project with Peter, only briefly touching on Bucky’s involvement. At least until your phone buzzed on the table. It was a rule that phones stay face-up on the table at dinner and any messages get read aloud. So when you saw “James 🐻” pop up, heat rushed to your face. You managed to snatch your phone before your dad could, but you still had to read it out loud to the table.

“Uh,” you nervously cleared your throat. “So, James said ‘I have an idea for our date tomorrow, but I would need full reign over your kitchen for a while.’” You sent the table a tight-lipped smile as you locked your phone and set it down again, waiting for someone to say something.

“You’re going out with this James again?” your dad asked.

“Yes,” you said plainly. “I like him, dad. A lot.”

“And you’re already inviting him over?”

“Dad, stop. I’m a grown woman; I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m just saying… well, don’t you want to get to know him better first? Make sure he doesn’t want to wear your skin?”

“Ew, shut up,” you laughed. “I’ve done plenty of research into him; he’s a good guy.” Your dad still looked skeptical, so you pulled out your puppy dog eyes. “Please trust me on this.”

Tony huffed and shook his head. “Okay, fine. He’s a good guy. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. And don’t do anything I would do either.” You rolled your eyes at him but managed to divert the conversation by asking Happy and Pepper what Tony’s limit really meant.

•

The next day at 3:30 on the dot, you got a call to your house phone by the front door. It was unusual, especially since you hadn’t ordered any food. The doorman usually brought food up, but called if they were working alone. And you knew they weren’t working alone, considering how early it was. Still in your sweats and a t-shirt since Bucky wasn’t coming over until 4, you answered the phone with a simple “hey.”

“Hello Miss [Y/L/N],” you recognized the doorman Matt’s voice, “there’s a James at the front door for you?”

“Oh, okay, shit,” you said, whispering the last word to yourself. “Go ahead and send him up.”

“Would you like to grant him regular access to your residence?” Matt was always so formal, probably because you pushed for your dad to hire him and he knew he had to keep this gig. His background check showed he came from a low-income family and really wanted to turn that around. He knew he owed you and because of that, he was always grateful and sweet.

“Yes please. Thanks, Matt!”

With that, you hung up and sprinted to your room, knowing Bucky only had a 20 second elevator ride before he got to the sixth floor. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t have time to scramble for new clothes before there was a knock at your door. You grumbled as you ran back to the front door and greeted Bucky.

“Hi,” you said, half out of breath from your scurrying.

“Hey,” he smiled back. “I’m glad we chose the same style today.”

You gave him an admittedly generous once-over and realized his gray sweats and black tee matched yours, though your shirt did have an NYU logo on it.

“Oh thank god,” you nearly cackled. “I was panicking because I thought I should dress nice but you were early so I didn’t have time but I didn’t want to get ready too early so I wasn’t —“

“Hey [Y/N]?” Bucky interrupted. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” You stepped aside and let him kick his shoes off in the entryway. That’s when you noticed all the grocery bags in his hands. “Uhh, whatcha got there?”

“I said I’d need your kitchen, right?” he smiled, sending a wink your way as he started setting up. “I’m gonna cook you some authentic Romanian dishes ma used to make back in the ‘30s.”

“Ohh, sounds yummy. Can I help?”

“If you want to eat any of it, you better help,” Bucky joked.

“Let me grab a couple aprons so our fancy attire doesn’t get dirty.” In the hallway closet, you had about a dozen aprons Happy got for you. You said you needed some aprons once and suddenly you were getting new aprons for every gift-giving holiday. You appreciated it, though. Every time Happy saw an apron he thought you’d like, he bought it. And you, in return, bought him every oven mitt you thought he would like after he accidentally burned his hand making green bean casserole one year for Thanksgiving.

You grabbed the “Queen of the Cat-chen” apron covered in cats for yourself and for Bucky, the “I’ll feed all you fuckers” apron your dad thought was hilarious on your last birthday.

“Sorry I don’t have any matching chef hats,” you joked as you handed Bucky his apron.

For the next three hours, you followed all Bucky’s instructions and watched as he did his part of the work, chatting while things cooked and finally relaxing once everything was plated. You each had a decent amount of food debris on your aprons, making you thankful you both wore them. You led Bucky into the living room where you sat on the floor between your couch and the coffee table.

“You know the couch is made for sitting, right?” Bucky asked as he slowly sat behind you, one leg on either side of your body.

“Yeah, but it’s more fun to sit on the floor, especially when I’m eating.” You turned your head to face him as you continued, “I get too sleepy if I’m on the couch too long.”

He chuckled at your confession but didn’t argue. You both ate in comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the hum of traffic six floors down and the TV quietly playing a crackling fire YouTube video.

“Can you finish this for me?” you asked as Bucky set his empty plate on the coffee table.

“I’m full, doll.”

“Bucky, please? I can’t finish it,” you whines, pouting up at him.

“Then just put it away with the leftovers and eat it later,” he shrugged.

“But I’m so bad at eating leftovers,” you groaned.

“Then I’ll put it away and eat the leftovers,” he conceded. He snatched the plate from you and headed to your kitchen to pack it all away.

By the time he made it back, you were snuggled under a blanket on the couch with “What’s Your Number?” pulled up on the TV.

“I hope you’re okay with watching my favorite movie,” you smiled, making sure to flutter your eyelashes extra hard so he couldn’t say no.

“I haven’t seen this one yet so sure,” he said with a shrug.

He yanked the blanket off your body and unfolded it so he could bring you under his right arm and cover both of you with the thick fabric. Ever since Monday in the lab, he’s been more affectionate. He stopped by on Friday and kissed you at least half a dozen times before he left, then earlier while you were cooking, it was like he had to hold your hips every time he watched over your shoulder, and he chose to end the night holding you into his side and… oh, you were a goner once his fingers started lightly tracing shapes on your bare arm.

And he had to have known you were weak, if the way he angled his body toward you was any indication. You loved the movie you had picked out and really did want to watch it… but when you looked up at Bucky and saw his gaze meet yours, you knew the movie was going to be long forgotten.

His lips pressed to yours firmly, like he wanted to make sure you remembered what he felt like. You quickly let things escalate by gripping his hair and pulling him with you and you laid back on the couch. Your legs fell open as he slid right between them, his left arm propped on the cushion to keep himself from crushing you and his right slipping under your shirt to hold your waist. When his tongue passed your lips, you couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling of him taking control. His hand never moved past your waist, just occasionally squeezing as he pressed his body against yours.

The rest of the night was spent alternating between making out, talking while you were chest to chest on the couch, and making out some more until you fell asleep against his chest.

•

The next morning, you woke up to the blaring sound of a ringtone... that wasn’t your ringtone. And you were on your couch? The sleepy haze quickly wore off when you felt Bucky’s body shift behind you to reach over and grab his phone.

“What?” he answered grumpily, though your body’s initial reaction was to how deep and gravelly his voice was in the morning. Fuck.

With how close you two were and how quiet it was with the TV off, you managed to barely make out what was being said on the other end of the line.

“Where are you?” It was Steve. “You were supposed to be at the group breakfast this morning but you weren’t in your room so I told Tony you weren’t feeling well.”

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky groaned. Now that sound sent all your senses into overdrive. “I fell asleep at [Y/N]’s last night.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured,” Steve replied, clearly exasperated. “Look, just stop by a convenience store and grab some medicine so when you get back, no one questions it. You snuck out when no one saw, that’s the story.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll head out soon.” Once they hung up, you rolled over on the couch to face Bucky.

“Good morning,” you said with a sleepy grin.

“Good morning,” he replied, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m sure you heard but I’ve gotta head out before Tony gets suspicious.”

“Okay. Text me when you get back?”

Bucky stood from the couch, and you followed suit behind him as he put his sneakers and jacket on.

“I’ll text you on my whole trip back,” he smiled. “Looks like you might have to bring those leftovers with you tomorrow. I don’t know that I can sneak them back today.”

You practically skipped to join him at the door, your hands going to rest on his chest before he could leave.

“Should we just designate Saturdays as our date nights?” you asked.

“Who said you get another date?” Bucky joked back.

“Excuse me?” you gasped in mock offense. “Next time I get to choose what we do and I’m not letting you take that away from me.”

Bucky chuckled at your little outburst but pressed another kiss to your lips as a peace offering.

“Next Saturday, your pick,” he smirked.

“It’s a date.”

[nervousladytraveler]

removing your lover's tie, putting it behind their head, pulling them into a kiss

Thanks @veryflowerobservation for the prompt. I know you requested this ages ago. But there I was, chipping away at a new chapter of Like Someone, and Ross started loosening his tie...and well, here we are!

(A proper update to that fic is coming soon)

---

“Demelza?” Ross knocked softly, listening for any sounds within that might signal an invitation to enter.

“Ross? It’s unlocked,” Demelza called. “You don't have to be so formal you know.” She smiled a bright but tired smile as he filled the door frame. “This room is yours too at least as long as we’ve guests in the main house.”

She hopped closer to him and closed the door behind them both. No one else was letting the other barn rooms but he appreciated the extra layer of privacy all the same. He kissed her lips then her forehead lingering a little to take in the softness of her hair.

“Busy day?” he asked.

“Yes but...it was satisfyin’. I'll tell you about it later, after you’ve had a chance to unwind,” she said. “Did you eat?”

“I did--and you? Tell me you didn't just have ramen?” he asked, looking at the remnants of the meagre supper on her desk.

“I didn't feel like dealin’ with other people and sharin’ the kitchen,” she shrugged. “This was fine. I like soup on rainy days.”

Ross was going to quip back that a foam cup of instant noodles wasn’t the same as soup--not like her usual savoury soups anyway--but he decided instead to let it go, grateful that she hadn't asked him exactly what he’d eaten. Or where.

It wasn’t that he was hiding where he’d been, he’d told her his plans that morning--hadn’t he? But maybe it was still better left undiscussed for the moment. Like she’d just said, until after he’d had a chance to unwind. Hopefully that would happen soon.

The truth was, even after his solitary drive home, Ross was still a little unnerved by today’s visit to the other Poldarks in Trenwith Road. It wasn’t that Elizabeth was thorny or icy or even needy, she was in fact very even-keeled and reasonable. Nice even. Perhaps the last few weeks with her husband in hospital had finally given her some mature perspective. But the experience of having a pleasant, genuine conversation with Elizabeth had left Ross feeling off guard.

It had been far easier to categorize her as an enemy, to dismiss her entirely, rather than really engage her. And to think of her as a friend or even as family, which she had been legally to Ross for years now, brought even further complications.

Better not to dwell on that now, Ross thought to himself and without meaning to, sighed aloud.

He sat down on Demelza’s bed and slipped off his stiff shoes, then loosened his necktie. The number of days he was wearing one of those seemed to be growing. If it had been just him and Tonkin today he wouldn't have bothered, but that morning they'd met with the accountants as well. Ross felt like he wore the tie as part of a costume to convince others--and himself--that he was really fit for the role of responsible businessman.

And yet it was curious--he did seem to be growing used to it, so much so that he hadn’t removed the tie when he visited the Trenwith Poldarks. No one there had commented but they must have found it a striking contrast to his usual farm attire of muddy boots, dirty jeans, worn flannel shirts.

Maybe that’s why everyone there was friendlier today, he thought sourly.

“Demelza?” Ross asked, suddenly looking around him. “What’s all this?”

She’d set up the clothes drying rack in the corner but on just about every other possible surface, wet laundry had been draped. On hangers, his shirts--the business attire not the checked ones--hung hooked over the top of the window frame.

“I did a wash today but the tumble dryer isn’t workin’ properly,” she said. “Let’s hope the guests weren’t needin’ it. I’ll let them know tomorrow and if so, I can haul their clothes to the launderette in Perranporth.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” he said more sharply than he’d intended. That she’d been washing his clothes and eating ramen alone in her room while he dined on braised lamb at Elizabeth's well-laid table rankled him. Of course it was himself he should be angry with or the general unfairness of the situation, not Demelza. It had come out wrong. It often did. “Why don’t you let Prudie help you with these chores?”

“She never hangs your shirts properly and then they need a full ironin’ afterwards instead of just a touch up,” she explained. “Besides, there’s…” She darted her eyes across the collection of fine underwear she’d acquired over the past months. Lace, silk--Ross was well acquainted with how they felt to his touch and how they looked stretched against the curves of Demelza’s firm flesh. Of course, she’d want to keep those private.

“Well then, we’ll have to get a new tumble dryer,” he said firmly.

“You keep spendin’ money we don’t have,” she laughed.

We. It wasn’t lost on him that she took his burdens on as her own.

“Maybe I can fix it,” he sighed again. “Is it not heating or not turning properly?”

“Heatin’...it wasn’t that bad a few weeks ago--just took a little longer but now there’s no heat at all…” she explained and moved a pair of his wet jeans from the bed to a chair by the desk.

“You knew this weeks ago? And you didn't tell me?”

“Ross, you’ve been so busy…”

“And you have too!” He hadn’t intended it to sound like an accusation.

“I just meant it didn't seem a priority. The weather has been nice up til now so hangin’ the wash outside wasn’t a problem. And you know how it is--if you ignore somethin’ long enough sometimes it fixes itself.”

She laughed and he was instantly grateful that she’d somehow remained impervious to his grey mood.

The whole room felt damp and smelled like wet laundry but somehow through it all, he could make out her own distinct scent. It moved him and he took her hand in his.

“Demelza, you tell me if you really believe that,” he said and pulled her down next to him on the bed.

“Well, sometimes that’s the easier approach. Besides you can’t take on all the world’s burdens and fix everythin’ all the time, Ross. You just gotta focus on improvin’ your own little corner of the world,” she said softly while further undoing his tie. She pulled the tie off entirely then playfully put it behind his head, pulling him into a kiss.

“My own little corner?” he laughed.

With the rain beating down steadily and his house occupied by paying guests, his life that evening had very much been reduced to one tiny corner--her room.

But with her warm, familiar company he felt at that moment, he had more than enough.

"I like that corner very much," he said and kissed her again.

[mochegato]

Nannyette

Chapter 7 – Narrow Escape

Chapter 1     Chapter 6

Marinette was just finishing her paper on corsetry in the 1900’s when she heard a loud bang against the balcony doors.  She jumped out of her seat, accidentally dumping her computer and books on the floor.  The balcony doors burst open as Superboy pushed through carrying a body.  “Tim!” Marinette called out to him, rushing to help clear a path to the couch.  “Is he alright?  What happened?”

“Little bit of an incident.  He’ll be fine, but he needs to take it easy,” Kon said pointedly, giving Tim a clear look to stay there.  “Dick said he could crash here.  It was closer than the Cave.”  He sat him gently on the couch.  He turned to Marinette.  “I’ll leave him in your capable hands?”

“I’ll be fine.  I just need to lay down for a little bit,” Tim breathed out roughly, trying and utterly failing to reassure her.

“Did I sound this unconvincing when I said the same thing to you?” She asked exasperated.  “Yeah, I can take care of him.  Go ahead and finish what you need to.”  She waved Kon off to focus on Tim.

Kon nodded to her.  When she turned toward Tim, Kon looked over her shoulder and gave him a thumbs up and a wink.  Tim groaned at him.  “Asshole,” he muttered under his breath.

Marinette knelt in front of Tim to look him over and winced at his injuries.   “Yeah, no. You need a bit more than just sleep. I’m going to have to cut off your shirt. Is that okay?

Tim gave her a strained smirked.  “Already trying to get my shirt off?”

“Oh you know, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”  She shrugged distractedly, still focusing on the cuts to his chest, arm, and shoulder. It looked like the left side of his body took the brunt of the blows, though there were likely to be more bruises under the suit.  Luckily, his legs seemed to be fine so she wouldn’t have to cut them off as well. She didn’t think she would be able to function if he was sitting in front of her basically naked.

“Wait, really?” Tim squeaked out.

Marinette ignored him, trying to examine his injuries, but his suit was not giving at all and she couldn’t get a clear view of his injuries.  “How do I… Can I cut this?”

Tim examined his suit.  He hadn’t thought about that.  They had special tools for that in the Batcave.  There really wasn’t a way to remove the suit here other than taking it off, which was not ideal.  “No, not really.”

“I’m going to have to remove it the old fashioned way then.  It will hurt a lot more.  Let’s get you some pain killers first.  Won’t do much while we’re taking off the shirt, but it will help later.” She cringed at the thought.  “I’ll be right back.”  She hurried away to get the first aid kit and was back before he could even adjust into a more comfortable position on the couch.  She handed a glass of water to his good hand and then realized he probably wouldn’t be able to use the other hand to take the pain killers.  She looked between the pills in her hand and him a few times.  “Right. Okay.  I’ll just… um… open up.”  He looked up at her surprised.  “Well, you can’t do it yourself so…”

He flicked his eyes between the pills in her hand and her a few times as well.  A blush dusted his cheeks as he looked down.  “Yeah, okay.” He opened his mouth hesitantly. Marinette gently slipped the pills in his mouth, her fingers dusted his lips causing his breath to hitch.  His eyes shot up to her, but she had already switched focus to the blood seeping through his suit from his shoulder.  

As soon as he took a drink and swallowed the pills, she took the glass away and knelt in front of him again, examining the shirt for the least painful way to remove it.  “You should design these with this kind of thing in mind.  We’ll take it slow, okay?”  She looked up making eye contact with him, waiting for him to get ready.

“What, your heroes’ suits were easy to remove?” Tim tried to joke to distract them from the oncoming pain as she started easing the shirt up his chest.

“Yes they were.  Magic, remember?  They came right off with a few words.” Marinette smiled tensely back at him helping him ease his arm out of the sleeve.

“You seem to know a lot about their suits.” Tim raised an eyebrow at her.  He took a deep breath and hissed as they slowly worked on removing his left arm, which was significantly more sensitive, from its sleeve.

Marinette’s hands faltered momentarily.  “You’re not the first superhero I’ve had to… help heal.” Tim’s brows furrowed further at her explanation.  She eased the shirt over his head and looked down to assess the damage. “Oh Tim,” she said quietly, her lips turning down into a frown and concern shining in her eyes. “Surely you have people that are trained to deal with this you could have gone to.”

“I trust you.  I just need to sleep and I’ll be fine.  Dick’s place was closest.” He tried to shrug but gasped in pain when he did.

“Tim…” her hands hovered over the cuts, too scared to make his pain worse.

Tim gently held her hand to bring her focus to him and calm her down.  “None of them are deep enough to need stitches.  I didn’t lose enough blood to be concerned.  I don’t have a concussion.  I just need some bandages and sleep.” Tim assured her.

Marinette looked in his eyes as he comforted her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.  She nodded at him but her eyes were still laced with worry.  “Let’s get you bandaged up then so you can get that rest.

“Why don’t you tell me about what happened?” She prompted him while she salved his cuts and put on bandages.

“Ugh.  Escape Room hell.” He huffed.  Marinette spared a glance up to raise an eyebrow at him.  “Riddler thought it would be fun… for him… and I’m sure it was, until we got out and kicked his ass.  He had some backup traps though and a ton of henchmen.  I think he borrowed some from Penguin.  One of them thought it would be a good idea to set off some of the more… explosive traps to stop us.  It did work, kind of.  It stopped me, but it killed them.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right for Gotham.” She grumbled under her breath.  “All done.” She smoothed out the last bandage.  Her fingers brushed over a scar just below the bandage.  She absentmindedly traced it as her eyes wandered over his chest noting the great number of scars.  “There’s so many.” She whispered, more to herself than him.

“Scars don't bother you do they?” Tim asked hesitantly.

Marinette’s eyes shot up to his and turned soft.  “They mean you walked away. I’d rather see a scar than a coffin.” She reassured him.  Her eyes returned to the scars on his chest.  “I’m just… there’s so many.  You must have gone through so much pain.  So much terrible pain.”

He smiled gently at her.  He was so touched that her first response was concern for how much he suffered.  That the idea of him hurt touched her so deeply.  Without thinking he reached out and cupped her face, hiding the slight wince from the pain he felt from exerting his left arm.  He stroked her cheek with his thumb and leaned down closer to her.  “You’re amazing.” He whispered to her.

Marinette looked up at him with wide eyes.  “Me?” She exclaimed quietly.  “You’re the one going out there and protecting Gotham, taking the hits for the people who can’t fight.  You’re the one solving cold cases the police gave up on, making Mar’i smile by just walking in the room, successfully running a multi-million dollar company, helping fund programs to help the people.”

He shook his head.  “You’re creative and dedicated and smart and compassionate and kind. You risked your life to save Mar’i. You’re the one Mar’i gets excited for because you make her feel special. You make everyone you meet feel special. You make me feel special.  And I really want to kiss you right now.” He licked his lips as he searched her eyes for some indication of how she would react to his comment.

Marinette gave him a gentle smile and nodded dreamily. “Okay,” she whispered almost reverently, her brain not fully capable of forming coherent thoughts after that his confession.  Tim’s lips formed a relieved smile and he leaned the rest of the way down to gently touch his lips to hers.  The kiss was chaste and sweet and it made his whole body feel like it had been enveloped in warmth.  

They pulled away too soon for either of their tastes.  He wound his hands behind her head and around her waist to gently pull her closer to him again.  Marinette picked up on his intention and surged up to kiss him again.  Her lips met his in a heated, passionate kiss with such force, it pushed him against the back of the couch.  A grunt left him when he hit the cushions.

Marinette started to pull away to make sure he was okay, but he tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her closer to him instead, not willing to end the euphoric feeling of her lips on his and her hands on his face and in his hair.  He didn’t want to think about his injuries right now.  He just wanted to think about her; her lips, her hands, her tongue, her warmth, each of them salving a part of him the bandages couldn’t reach.  The kiss finally broke up when Tim could no longer contain a groan of pain from having pushed the injuries on his arm and side too far too soon.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Marinette fretted. “Are you okay?  I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“It was my fault.  It’s okay, but maybe we should continue this tomorrow.”  Not even the radiating pain could wipe the grin from his face, the feeling of touching Marinette and being touched by her still coursing through him.

“That sounds like a good idea.  You should lay down.”  Marinette fussed, trying to make the couch more comfortable for him. “I’ll get a blanket for you and a better pillow.”

Tim kept smiling as he laid down on the couch. He shifted uncomfortably.  “I think I need something to prop my arm on to take the pressure off my shoulder,” he told her when she sat on the edge of the couch to lay the blanket over him and switch out the couch decorative pillow for a real pillow.

She looked around, taking stock of the options in the room.  “How big were you thinking?”

He pulled her down to lay next to him and laid his arm over her waist, smiling at the surprised squeak she let out.  “I was thinking about this size.”

She giggled and shifted slightly to get comfortable looking up at him with an amused glint in her eyes.  “That was incredibly smooth.”

“Thank you.” He grinned at her

“I’m going to have to add that to my list of amazing things about you.”

“You are the only one I’m smooth for though so I think it goes on my list for you, that you inspire it in me.”

“Still going on my list.”  She smirked at him.

Tim smiled contentedly and pulled her closer to him, trying to adjust the blanket so it covered her as well.  He grimaced lightly when he put more pressure on his left arm than he meant to.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Marinette asked anxiously.  “I don’t want to aggravate your injuries.”

“This is a brilliant idea.  This can only help.  Being with you only makes me feel better.” Tim assured her gently.

Marinette looked down trying to hide her blush. “Me too.” She said quietly and curled into his chest.  He smiled wider and kissed the top of her head, letting out a contented sigh.  The warmth and comforting feeling of having each other in their arms lulling them to sleep quickly.  Their sleep was so peaceful in each other’s arms, they didn’t even notice when Dick came home or when he started taking pictures of them cuddled up together.  The pictures would be extremely helpful at their wedding.

Chapter 7

Tags:

@timari-month-event  @ichigorose @stainedglassm @better-toast @theymakeupfairies @trippingovermyfeet @demonicbusiness @maskedpainter @ladybug-182

[bqstqnbruin]

I hate it when you stare

Wow here I am with another part, another fic. Ignooooree my typooos. Is this more soft smut? No one told me last time if what I wrote counts so uhhhhhhh

Read the whole series:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

I really do have work to do for my class at 2:30 tomorrow but instead I finished this, so I hope you like this!

_______________________

“How is it bullshit? Everyone can tell that we’re in love with each other.”

“So, what, because other people believe it, that automatically means it’s true?”

--------------

Evelina was visiting home for the weekend for her mom’s birthday, which meant that you had the apartment to yourself. From Friday after work until Sunday night, you were free to do whatever you wanted by yourself. Or, you thought you were going to be doing whatever you wanted until your boss texted you saying that he wanted your project finished by Monday so you could present it that afternoon. That meant you were posted up on the couch, your hair tied in a bun on top of your head, a mug full of coffee, another of tea, and a cup with water all in front of you, the blanket normally on the back of your couch now draped over your shoulders. It was a full call to the hungover days you had back in undergrad when you woke up late and were struggling to finish the work you had due the next morning.

“It’s me!” you hear a familiar voice call from the door, snapping you out of what might have been the first and only roll you had been on working on the project.

You look up to see Matthew coming over the couch, plastic bags in hand to plop down on the table. “Remind me to change the locks.”

“That would mean you have to get up to let me in, though,” he sends a wink in your direction.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him, even though you felt butterflies throughout your entire body at the sight of him looking so comfortable next to you. It was just because he’s a guy, not because it’s Matthew. You let out a quiet sigh as he fiddles with the remote to your TV. “Who says I wouldn’t leave you in the hallway? Plus, I thought you were supposed to have practice today?” you ask, trying to focus more on your project than on him.

“We’re done, and we don’t have a game for three days for once, so we’re resting up. I figured, why not come see my favorite girl?” he says, resting his hand on your shin once your drape your legs over his lap. 

“Because Taryn is in St. Louis so you settled for me instead?”

He scoffs, slowly running his hand up and down your bare leg while his eyes fixate on the television screen. He had to be able to feel the goosebumps that he was causing with his touch. “Fine, my favorite girl in Calgary unless Taryn is visiting, are you happy?”

“Am I ever happy when I’m around you?” you tease, lifting only your eyes from your screen to look at him. Still staring at the TV, you can see the smile on his face, but it almost looks like his jaw is clenching, like he’s fighting saying something back.

“And how could I not be happy around you when you treat me like that?” Your eyes linger for a second on his smile before scanning the rest of his body. Even under the long-sleeved dry fit shirt he was wearing, you could see the outline of the muscles that graced his abdomen. His arms looked like they were begging to rip the seam of the shirt, and you wanted nothing more than to take it off of him and just let them free. “Do you like what you see, babe?” you hear him say, snapping you out of the thoughts you were convincing yourself meant nothing as he was looking at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“I’m trying to picture you as a more attractive guy,” you lie, “It would be so nice if Elias were here, wouldn’t it?” 

“If you’re implying that you want a threesome, then I don’t think I could do it with a teammate,” he laughs, his fingers tightening around your shin. Would Elias be better than Matthew? Any guy would be better than Matthew, you tell yourself. He’s your best friend, and nothing more. 

“What have I said about being crude?” you ask him, fixating your eyes on the way he’s biting his bottom lip. “I think I’m gonna go get my headphones so I can do this project.” You bolt from the living room to your bedroom, leaving Matthew there by himself while you search for your phone in a panic. 

“Hey, is everything ok?” Evelina says on the other end of the phone call as you try to search for your AirPods in the mess that was your room.

“No, Matthew is here.”

“And that’s bad because?” she asks, drawing out her last word.

Groaning, you drop your phone on your desk, prompting Matthew to call to you asking if you were ok. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” Turning back to Evelina, clearly in a panic that she could hear in your voice, “Matthew is here and I think I’m horny.”

“You’re always horny for him because you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not in love with him and I’m honry because I haven’t been touched by a man in like, three months. It’s starvation.”

You hear her groan on the other end, her parents voices in the background. “Hold on, I need to go into another room,” she says. “Ok, so you really told me two days when you got home that you and Matthew nearly fucked in public  in the liquor store. You have been touched by a man. He was also practically feeling you up at the bar a week ago, might I remind you.” 

“I don’t love him,” you say, unprompted, “And he never even kissed me.”

“Says that hickey that you somehow didn’t notice he gave you?” she says, you turning to your mirror to touch the mark she was talking about. You honestly didn’t know it was there until she said something to you when you walked in the door. “If you don’t love him, why don’t you just tell him to leave?”

“I want company and he’s the only thing I have when you aren’t here. Really, this is all your fault.”

“That was so sweet until you blamed me. If you don’t want him to leave then what’s the problem?”

“Horny,” you say at the same time. “Either do something about it or control yourself, babe, but I’ve gotta go. Miss you, love you,” she says, hanging up when you finally find your AirPods.

Pulling up your playlist so it’s already playing when you get to Matthew, you don’t even look at him as you take your computer back in your lap and throw your legs in his. You can feel his eyes tracing the outline of your body even under the baggy sweatshirt you had on from a college you never went to. 

You had worked for what was probably a solid half hour, Matthew mindlessly rubbing his hand on your leg like he did before, you needing to do everything in your power to stop from thinking about and wanting more. You were interrupted by Matthew reaching over and tugging on the hem of your shorts. “Are you really listening to Christmas music right now?”

“Is it that loud?” you ask, turning the volume down immediately.

“No, I can read your lips. You were mouthing ‘Feliz Navidad,’ and ‘Sleigh Ride.’”

“Oh, then, yes,” your cheeks flushed with embarrassment that you didn’t even realize you were doing that. 

“It’s March, babe.”

“Ok, but Christmas music is fine year round.”

“No?” he questions.

“So I’m going to tell you why you’re wrong,” you start, moving your computer to the table so you don’t drop it, provoking a laugh to escape from his lips, “While I don’t agree with all things in Catholic and the broader Christian doctrine, there are things I can agree with basically because they are up for interpretation, so I interpret them in the way I like. Take, for example, the ninth commandment: love thy neighbor. Some people take it as a literal ‘love thy neighbor’ as in ‘be a good neighbor,’ to the ones who live next door, but I think it’s a matter of caring for those around you, neighbor not being the person immediately next to you wherever you live, but just other people in general.”

“What is your point?” he asks, a devilish grin spread across his face.

“My point is that the Bible, which is the end all be all of Catholic doctrine according to some people, is up for interpretation and people use it the way that benefits them, no matter how wrong they normally are. In Hebrews 13:15, it says, “Through him let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name,” thereby, justifying and promoting listening to Christmas music year round. It praises Jesus, who is one of the persons that make up God, and doing year round is continuous.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Hey, if people can be assholes and use a 2,000 year old book to try to wrongly justify their bigotry and homophobia, why can’t I use it to rightly justify my listening to christmas music all year?”

“Are you Catholic?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn about it and keep the things that I like with me. I’m not Jesuit but I follow their ideals like ‘care for the whole person’ and ‘be a man or woman with and for other.’ And Evelina’s parents are very religious, so we kind of put up a front whenever they visit to please them. They still think we go to Mass every Sunday.” 

“Is that why there’s sometimes a crucifix by the door?” he asks, you nodding along. “And that weird Jesus magnet where he has a chefs hat and it says ‘fish and bread are served’ underneath him?”

“Yeah, I think her dad superglued that to the fridge because no matter how many times we’ve tried to get it off it won’t budge. Plus it’s a reference to another Bible passage.” 

“I went to a Catholic high school, remember? I already knew that.” You can’t help but return the smile he was sending your way, this time your eyes flicking down to his lips, you unsure if his were doing the same. You snap out of it, biting your lip and making eye contact with Matthew, both of you breathing slightly unevenly at just thinking about what you could do with each other. Was Evelina right that you two loved each other?

No, she couldn’t be right, because you didn’t love him. You pick your computer back up to get back to work, not saying another word as Matthew turned back to the TV. You hit a deadend, finding yourself back to staring at Matthew’s perfect face while his eyes narrowed and a small smirk formed on his lips at something funny on whatever movie or show he was watching. 

“Ugh, fuck,” you groan, Matthew’s head snapping to your direction as you cover your face with your hands. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” 

He reaches over and pulls your hands from your face, intertwining his fingers in yours. “Take a break, I brought food for us.” 

“You didn’t cook it yourself, did you?” you ask. The last time he had made food for you, you were sick for a week from what you’re sure was food poisoning from something being undercooked.

He laughs, the pad of his thumb rubbing your palms. You could feel your breathing get shallow by this, trying to ignore it while he’s talking to you. “No, I got it from the store down the road, already made. Mac and Cheese!” he says, pulling it out of the bag.

You roll your eyes at his stupidity. “Matthew, we’ve been sitting here for over two hours, why would you leave that on the table instead of in the fridge?”

“It’s still warm!” he argues, opening it, “Oh and it smells so bad.” You burst out laughing as he cringes, closing it immediately. “I’ll order something else.” 

You get up to go throw out the now rancid mac and cheese in the kitchen. “Hey, where do you want to order from?” you hear Matthew call, walking into the kitchen behind you.

The list. 

It’s on the fridge.

Practically throwing yourself at it to try to tear it down in time, you rip it off the fridge and fold it up in your hand just in time for Matthew to come in. “Are you ok?” he asks you, noticing your slightly faster breathing and your hands behind your back.

“Yeah, the smell was just bad,” you lie to him, shoving the list in the band of your shorts. “And I was looking at the Jesus magnet.” 

“That thing is so creepy,” he says, both of you looking at it. Knowing Matthew, you try as discreetly as possible to move the paper to your front so he can’t feel it as he inevitably presses his front to your back, his arms draping over your shoulders. Without thinking, you reach up to touch his hands as he rests his head on yours. “It’s way too white to be Jesus.”

His arms move their way down your body, settling around your waist as he starts to nibble at your ear. “God, you are so sexy,” you hear him let out.

“You’re awfully handsy lately, aren’t you Matty?”

“Oh come on,” he says, turning you around to face him, practically pinning you against the fridge, “You know we’re always like this with each other.” 

You smile at him, cupping his face in your hands as you run the pads of your thumbs along his cheeks. “We have a weird...” you start, trying to figure out the right word to describe whatever it was you had with him, “friendship,” you settle on, not exactly liking the word yourself as your tried to hide the cringe you were sure was appearing on your face. 

He swallows hard at that word. Even relationship would have been better, even if it were more broad than ‘friendship.’ At least it wasn’t such a narrow word. It felt like even if you didn’t finish the list you didn’t know he knew about, you would never see him as more than a friend. “Well, that’s what makes it my favorite friendship.” 

The two of you stand there for a minute, holding each other and gazing into the others eyes. You could feel your breathing slow down studying Matthew’s facial features again, thinking only of how perfect they looked to you in that moment. “We should figure out where we’re getting food from,” you say, dragging your hands down his chest before dropping him all together. 

He could have stared at you like that forever. He really couldn’t think of anyone more perfect than you, anyone he would want to look at besides you. “What are you in the mood for?” he asks, moving over to the counter. Opening your fridge, you remember you still have the list folded in the band of your shorts, throwing it in before grabbing some water out. “What did you just throw in there?” Matthew asked you, having watched your every move.

“Uh, Evelina and I have this weird list that we’re putting together, it didn’t feel right to have Jesus looking over it all of a sudden,” you tell him, “But now that you had mac and cheese on my mind, I kind of want that.”

“Oh, no, you’re not changing the subject that easily,” he says, trying to reach around you to open the fridge. 

“No, come on, it’s mostly Evelina’s and I don’t know if she would want you seeing it,” you lie, batting your eyes at him and trying to contort your face to make it look like you would cry if he tried anything else. He couldn’t see the list of things you hate about it. He couldn’t find out about it. 

He sighs, knowing he wasn’t going to win this one. “I ordered you mac and cheese but I’ll pay for it if you tell me the subject of the list?” he tries to bargain. 

“Uh, it’s a list of kinks,” you lie, not knowing what else to say, and usure why that was the first thing that came to mind.

His eyes go wide, pretending to be shocked. It was the list of ten things you hate about him. It had to be. He grins anyway, trying to hide the pain he felt knowing that the list was already started, and probably nearly finished at this point, “Are any of them your kinks?” 

“Yeah,” you start to lie to him again, a grin on your face, “One of them says, ‘When Matthew leaves me alone.’”

He scrunches up his face, pretending to be hurt by your comment as he walks back to your living room. “Oh you know just how to break my heart, pretty girl.” You follow him, plopping down next to him on your couch. 

You pick up your computer, snuggling into his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. “I have no desire to do this project.” 

“Why don’t we watch something on TV then and you can work again after we eat?” he suggests. You nod, putting the computer back down, surrendering to his pout. You feel him kiss the top of your head, scrolling through the channels. “What about Lilo and Stitch?” he asks when he finds it on one of the channels. 

“Ugh, I love this movie, but the American treatment of Hawaiians is awful, and I just can’t help but think about it every time I watch,” you say, thinking you were being annoying. “Sorry,” you apologize. Evelina was used to your rants, even if you were sure she normally tuned them out. You didn’t think Matthew wanted to listen to another rant from you. 

“Don’t get me started?” he asks, referring to the game you and the guys played at the bar.

“Don’t get me started on the American colonization of Hawaii. The Cookes’ went to Hawaii and pretty much obliterated the royal bloodline. The king of Hawaii had the Cookes build boarding schools for the royal children, with good intentions that they would be able to educate his children on royal customs to effectively rule their land. Instead, the Cookes took the Hawaiian customs and told them they were wrong, imparting their own customs on them, instead. They wanted he land for America, they wanted to eliminate the Hawaiian culture and make them as American as possible,” you say. “The Hawaiian people were a very sex positive people, but oh no, American Catholic education and their ‘no sex is the safest sex’ ideal stopped the children from living the lives they grew up expected to live. If a boy was found in a girls room doing anything in these boarding schools, they would beat the children as punishment, and probably other things that weren't even recorded. There are actually a decent number of Wikipedia pages that have had this information erased, like when you go back into the edit history. The sources, as they claimed, weren’t valid, but in reality they weren’t the Cookes’ American-centric description of these schools. They even went so far as introducing sports into the schools as ‘an antidote to the worst evil of all: sexual promiscuity,’” you comment, drawing a laugh from Matthew. “Because we all know how much athletes hate sex, right?” 

You look up at Matthew, him beaming down at you as Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride starts ironically playing in the background, “Yeah, we hate that,” he whispers. You swallow hard, trying to ignore any feelings that might be coming up at the sight of Matthew biting his bottom lip. 

“American’s always just insert themselves where they don’t belong,” you finish, settling your head back onto his shoulder as he pulls you closer to him. 

“Why do you know all of this?” he asks.

You shrug, not really sure how to answer, “I don’t know. When I’m doing work I see one word and it sends my mind into this never ending tangent and I end up looking up stuff online and reading for hours.” 

“You really are the smartest person I know,” he says with a sigh, “Why hasn’t Ev told her parents about hiding the Catholic stuff until they come?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know. I never asked, she just told me it was something she needed to do, so I did it with her. That’s her own cross to bear,” you say, taking a minute to realize the really bad pun you just made. “Ah! See what I did there!” you practically yell, Matthew groaning.

“On that note, I think I need to leave,” he jokes, getting up off the couch.

“Oh, come on, no!” you beg, taking him by the hand and trying to drag him back down to the couch. “I don’t want you to leave,” you let out as he pulls you off the couch. 

“Really?” he asks you, sitting back down on the couch, your hands still connected.

Standing over him you nod as he pulls you into his lap, straddling him. He pulls you as close to him as you can, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Your mind flashes back to the liquor store, the feeling that came over you as he worked his way along your body like you had a feeling he was about to do again. 

“Come on Matthew, you know this isn’t something we do,” you tease, even though you can’t help but look at his lips, the urge to kiss him creeping up on you as you tried desperately to suppress it. If any guy had taken you into his lap like Matthew just did, you would want to do the same thing. You were just desperate for a man, not desperate for Matthew. 

“We can’t do anything?” he teases, going for your neck again. You let out a moan, praying that he doesn’t leave any more marks that you’ll have to cover up later. 

“Wait,” you say to him, pulling him off of you. He looks slightly upset, not sure what to do next. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ you think to yourself, pulling his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side and returning the favor of the hickey he gave you. You suck on his skin, listening to the moans that escaped from his lips this time, feeling him grow hard the longer you were at it. He clenches his hands on your butt, pulling you even closer to him. You work your way up his neck and to his jaw, his grip getting tighter the closer you were to his lips. You had no idea what was coming over you and causing you to want to do this, but nothing in that moment felt better. Nothing in your life had ever felt better as you kissed his face the way he did to you the other day, hearing him moan more and more with every connection you made. 

Your lips are millimeters from his, both of you practically begging the other for connection when you’re startled by the sound of Matthew’s phone ringing. You both laugh, foreheads pressed together. One more second and it would have happened. “I think that means our food is here.” 

“Perfect fucking timing,” he mutters, not loud enough for you to hear as you get up to go grab the food. He couldn’t believe you just did that. He checks his neck in his phone camera, seeing it littered with the red marks you had left for him. He reaches up to touch them, smiling for some reason. There’s no way this list would work against him, would it? 

You come back, him practically throwing his phone so you don’t see what he’s doing, settling down on the couch with each other eating the food. Your mind starts racing with thoughts about what just happened. There was no way you really wanted that, did you? Well, you wanted a man’s touch, but it didn’t necessarily have to be Matthew. It could be any guy. 

‘I have another thing for the list,’ you text Evelina, your eyes moving between your phone screen and his hands holding his food, careful not to look up at his face.

‘Good, god, what?’

‘I hate the way he stares,’ you send her, finally looking up, not taking your eyes off Matthew as the two of you can’t help but stare at each other.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

Social Media AU - Richie Tozier comes out during a show

I decided that this AU works better with a written headcanon to go with it, and so I’ve included it underneath the cut. It’s a little rough because it’s been a LONG time since I sat down and properly wrote something, but I tried!

Enjoy!

Holy shit.

He couldn’t believe he’d done that.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His manager was talking shit in his ear, prowling after him like fuck knows what, talking about “there’ll be backlash for this” and “not part of the plan”, and even “you’ve ruined your whole fucking career”. The usual stuff, really. Richie couldn’t bring himself to give a shit though, not right now. His heart was pounding ridiculously loud in his chest, blood rushing through him and making him feel dizzy – adrenaline mostly, but also some anxiety too.

Somehow he found himself in his backstage dressing room, manager still nagging him and furiously demanding answers. Pull it together, Tozier, pull it together.

“What in God’s name were you thinking?!” Brad hissed, slamming his hand down on the dressing table; the bottle of water next to the mirror topped slightly from the force of it. “This is a PR nightmare!”

“I don’t give a shit,” Richie said simply, giving a shrug. “What can I say, man? Gotta be true to myself.”

A vein seemed to throb in his manager’s forehead. “You just announced that you’re gay in front of hundreds of people, Richie, most of whom are within the demographic that are the least accepting of homosexuality! You think you’re the first gay person to be in this position? Because you’re fucking not, okay, there’s a reason PR is a thing! Your image is going to be ruined within just a few short hours of all of this!”

“So you want me to lie about it?” Richie snapped. “I’m done lying, okay? I’m done with the dumb girlfriend jokes, I’m done with the misogynistic shit that I’m having to recite, I’m fucking done! I shouldn’t be ashamed about this, it’s 2017 for fuck sake!”

“Alright, sure, it’s a more accepting time, but your fan base...in case it escaped your notice, you have a certain demographic, and it’s not ‘woke’ gay people. The people who came to your show tonight wanted to see the Richie Tozier they know and love, they wanted those jokes and that humor - not your life story and an impromptu coming out!”

“Well, tough shit to them - like I said, if I’m doing these shows, I’ll do it with my own jokes, not hiding who I am anymore.”

“Richie, it’s not that simple-”

There was a knock on the still-open door; a stagehand gawked at them, a little nervously, before clearing her throat. “Um… I’m sorry to interrupt, I… Well… These guests have VIP passes, and they wanted to see Rich- I mean, Mr Tozier right away.”

Behind her, Richie could see the rest of the Losers Club waiting awkwardly, clearly trying not to look at him or his manager. He cleared his throat and gave what he hoped was an at least somewhat polite nod. “Yeah, they’re friends of mine. Thank you. Brad,” He turned to his manager and gave him a meaningful look. “Some privacy please?”

Brad straightened his blazer but nodded too. “Of course. I have...things to try and fix. We’ll discuss this later, Richie.”

He waited until both the stagehand and his manager were out of earshot before gesturing for his friends to come into the dressing room; all of them looked nervous, clearly trying to pretend that they hadn’t overheard the argument, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind - he was just so glad to see them all right now.

“So…” He said, closing the door behind them and trying to look like he was holding it together. “What- What did you think?”

“You were great, Richie,” Bill said sincerely - and that seemed to make the others more comfortable too, judging by how they all started to smile and rush to embrace him.

“You did a wonderful job, Richie,” Beverly told him, giving him a squeeze and beaming at him. “You had us all laughing the entire show.”

Ben was grinning widely. “Far funnier than any of your old material, that’s for sure.”

“You were actually funny,” Stan said, though he was smiling fondly. “Never thought I’d say that, Trashmouth, but it’s true - if only you were that funny when we were kids.”

“Ha, fuck you too, Stan Urine,” Richie joked, but he was unable to stop himself from exhaling in relief. “I’m glad you all enjoyed the show - was kinda worried it wouldn’t get the same laughs as my old stuff.”

“Your old stuff was fake,” Mike brushed off, giving him a kind smile. “We could see it was really you up there, being yourself.”

Richie felt a little dazed by all the attention; he was briefly aware of Bill and Mike both patting him on the back, of Stan and Patty sharing a small laugh as they recounted something he’d said during the show, Audra congratulating him and saying how happy she was to finally meet all of her husband’s friends, Ben grinning widely, Beverly holding his arm and stating that she was so proud-

Eddie.

Fuck.

“Has anyone seen Eddie?” He blurted out, unable to stop himself. Everyone else fell into silence. “Oh shit. Fucking shit-”

“He just went out for some air,” Beverly said quickly, though she looked uncertain. “I think it’s just...a lot for him.”

“I gotta go find him,” Richie muttered, immediately heading for the door. “Fucking fuck...”

Ben’s arm stopped him before he could touch the handle. “Rich, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“No, I need to apologize to him, I need to explain-”

“Richie,” Bill said quietly. “You just said you’ve been in love with him since we were kids, in front of hundreds of people. Everyone will know by tomorrow, even if they weren’t at tonight’s show. It’s a lot for him to take in.”

Something anxious and vile reared up in Richie’s chest, making him feel like it was difficult to breathe. “I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked this up, oh fuck...I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Richie-”

“It’s okay, Richie, don’t panic-”

“Shit, what’s he gonna think?! Fuck, I’ve ruined our whole friendship, what the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“You haven’t fucked anything up, Richie.”

“Rich, please just breathe, okay?”

He was only somewhat aware of Beverly’s hand in his arm, gently pulling him over to the nearby chair and sitting him down. “Richie, honey, have some water and just focus on breathing, okay?”

Knowing he had no choice in the matter, he took a gulp from the water bottle she passed him, focusing on her voice and doing his best to push his fears away. Tonight was supposed to have been the opposite of this - he was supposed to be brave, to stand tall, to not be ashamed of who he was. Instead he was terrified, filled with regret and uncertainty.

A part of him was briefly aware of someone (Bill, he figured) saying they were going to find Eddie before stepping out of the room. A minute or so later, he noticed the others starting to filter out of his dressing room, muttering that they were going to give him some space to breathe and not overcrowd him - they’d wait for him outside. He could only hope that security had managed to get any fans waiting out back to go away - normally he didn’t mind signing autographs or saying hello to people, but after tonight’s show...no. He couldn’t.

You’ve really fucked this up, Tozier.

---

Beverly walked with him as they left, her presence welcome and calming; she didn’t speak, and he was grateful for that - he just knew that she understood, that she was on his side no matter what was to come. Then again, he was sure all the Losers would be there for him no matter what - they were like a family, he sometimes thought, a family of misfits and nobodies that found each other, found a group where they could be themselves.

Fuck, he loved his friends so much.

“You want me to drive?” Beverly asked finally when they reached the car park, looking around; the others were nearby, crowded together and talking amongst themselves. “Or do you have a limo these days, Mr Comedian?”

“Hilarious,” He said dryly. “No, but I have a driver sometimes. I can call him and tell him to head home for the night though.” 

They had nearly reached the others before Richie realized that all of his friends were there.

Eddie was there.

His throat closed up. No, no, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t-

“Eds,” Beverly said softly, giving him a kind smile.

Eddie gave a small nod, hands in his pockets and suddenly looking awkward. “Yeah… Erm… Hi, Richie.”

Everyone was silent. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife as they all debated what to do, none of them clearly sure of what to say in this situation. Richie tried to meet Eddie’s eye, only to find the other man staring at the floor resolutely; anxiety and worry gnawed at Richie’s insides at the sight. 

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of awkwardness, Mike cleared his throat and looked around at everyone. “How about we go grab a drink?” He prompted. “You know, to celebrate.”

“Sounds like a good idea, Mikey,” Bill sighed with relief, quickly glancing at Richie and Eddie. 

“We’re all booked in the same hotel, right?” Beverly decided quickly, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “How about we go for a drink at the bar? That way none of us need to worry about driving or trying to find our way home.”

The others murmured in agreement, though it was clear that things were still awkward. As they started to make their way out of the car park, Stan and Bill navigating and leading the way, Richie noticed Beverly’s hand leave his arm; before he could question her, however, he found himself face-to-face with Eddie - immediately his throat felt dry, voice mysteriously gone for once in his life.

“Richie.” Eddie’s expression was hard to read; he didn’t seem angry but he didn’t seem happy or pleased either, just...carefully neutral. “Look, we need to… We need to talk.”

“Yeah,” Richie managed. “I guess so.”

Eddie hesitated for a second or two before turning to call to the others over his shoulder. “We’ll meet you guys there.”

None of the other Losers commented on this; instead, Bill merely nodded and gestured in the direction that they were heading. “Sure. Take your time.”

As soon as their friends were far away enough not to overhear, Eddie looked at Richie pointedly. “Is there somewhere private we can go or…?”

“Err… Dressing rooms might still be open?” 

“And we won’t be overheard?”

“No. I have a private dressing room, dude.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at this but gestured back towards the theatre. “Alright, fine. Lead the way, Trashmouth.”

Weirdly enough, the nickname made him feel more comfortable - it was almost like nothing had changed, like he didn’t just admit in front of hundreds of people that he was in love with this man, like he didn’t admit it in front of said man. For a moment, Richie allowed himself to think that everything would be fine; they’d talk it out, maybe be able to laugh it off, and it would be good. Not great, to be honest, but better than this hiding and lying.

---

Thankfully security had allowed him to go back to his dressing room, under the guise that he had “forgotten” something, and they didn’t ask about Eddie accompanying him - awkward questions would have made it much more humiliating for all parties involved, he thought. Richie wasted no time in opening the dressing room door to let Eddie in before closing and locking it for good measure, just to be sure that they wouldn’t be interrupted.

“Here, urgh… You take the chair, I can sit on the table,” He offered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie brushed off, crossing his arms and suddenly avoiding his eye. “I’m kinda too nervous to sit.”

“Oh. Thank fuck, me too.”

He noticed Eddie’s lips quirk upwards, as if he was trying not to let himself smile - that was definitely a good sign. He waited for the other man to speak first, partly to be fair but also because, frankly, he had no idea what to say.

“So… Congrats on coming out?” Eddie finally offered - and then they both burst into laughter. “Fuck, that sounds so dumb.”

“Yeah, but it’s kinda cute,” Richie chuckled before he could stop himself - and then he froze up again. “I mean… I don’t mean…”

Eddie seemed to realize what he meant and his smile faded. “Right. That.”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Richie said quickly. “I should have told you in private or something, not on a fucking stage in a stand-up routine. I mean, I was going to imply that I’m gay as fuck, that was planned, but I wasn’t going to just put it out there like that, it just happened. And shit, I wasn’t even intending on saying all that about you, but I saw you sitting in the front row and… Jesus, Eddie, I just saw you laughing and I-”

“Richie,” Eddie interrupted, and the other man fell silent. “Look, man, this is all… Okay. Alright.” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before speaking again. “What you said during the show about me…about how you feel...you meant it.”

Richie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I meant it.”

“Since we were kids?” Eddie continued, waiting for the other man to nod. “Okay… Richie, I swear to God, if this is some practical fucking joke or whatever - something for you to get laughs or make fun of me or whatever dumb shit goes through your head - then I will punch you in the face right fucking now.”

“What? No, no this isn’t a fucking joke!” Richie retorted, almost offended by this accusation. “You think I would say all that shit on-stage in front of hundreds of fucking people just for a joke?! Fuck off.”

“Okay, okay, I know, I’m sorry, I just… It’s a lot to take in,” Eddie muttered. When his friend didn’t say anything, he cast a look at him, seeming to study his face, before sighing. “Rich, I’m not about to turn around and start screaming slurs at you just because you had a crush on me.”

“I didn’t-”

“I can see it on your face, dumbass. Richie,” He leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my friend - one of my best friends, actually. Nothing you say could make me hate you...well, not anymore than I do already.”

Richie gave a small, pained laugh, though the relief was evident on his face. “Right. Yeah. Thanks, Eds.”

For a long moment that seemed to stretch on for a lifetime, neither of them said anything else; Eddie’s hand remained on Richie’s shoulder, the taller man just looking at him gratefully. There was still a nagging feeling within him, something eating up at his insides and wondering if Eddie was just hiding any anger or disgust, maybe he just didn’t want to ruin a good night; they still hadn’t really addressed the whole “hey, I’m in love with my best friend Eddie” thing either, that could be awkward-

“Me too.”

Richie blinked. “What?”

Eddie’s hand fell away, and he merely just shrugged as he looked away from Richie. “Me too. I’m...I’m gay.”

“Oh. Oh. Eddie…”

“During the divorce proceedings with Myra, I...I started to think,” He continued, almost to himself. “Actually, it was before that, before I even left Derry. I would hate myself, you know, for every time I looked at a cute guy too long, every time I thought they were handsome in their best clothes or whatever. I’d push it away because I’d think it was not okay, that I was being disgusting or dirty or…”

Richie was stunned by this, suddenly at a loss for words. “Dirty? Come on, dude, you’re like the cleanest asshole I know - there’s not a microbe of dirt or whatever the fuck on you.”

“Hilarious. Really.” But Eddie wasn’t smiling. “Look, ever since the day we...we defeated IT, I’ve thought about it. I have. I thought about you helping me out before that fucking nightmare of a house collapsed, thought about you dragging my ass to hospital and demanding I get immediate attention, about how brave you were that day. After that I decided that I wanted to be brave too - you made me want to be brave and stand up for myself.” He paused. “That sounds cheesey as fuck, I know, but it’s true. And tonight, when you were telling your own jokes, stuff you’d written and worked hard on, I realized it again - that I want to be brave. I don’t want to be scared to admit it.”

“Really?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. But there’s something else, Rich...the only person I told before now is Bev, and that’s because she guessed, you know? She could tell, but I also knew she’d listen and not judge.” He took a deep breath. “When I was in the hospital, every time I woke up, you were there - you refused to leave me. The others would be there too, usually taking turns, but you didn’t do that - you were always there. And before that, when we were stuck in that fucking thing’s lair, I saw you…” His voice failed for a moment, and he hurriedly looked away. “Fuck, Richie, you were under the deadlights and I...I thought I was going to lose you. I couldn’t bear it, Rich - I just couldn’t. I had to do something, I had to save you even if it meant putting myself in danger.”

“Well…” Richie wasn’t sure what to say - this wasn’t how he imagined this conversation going at all. “It worked. I’m not dead.”

“No, I know. But do you get what I’m trying to say, Richie?” Eddie asked anxiously. “Why I’m telling you all this?” 

“I dunno, man,” Richie said dazedly, trying not to get his hopes up - he couldn’t, he couldn’t let himself think one thing and be brought down when it was not true, not if he could help it. “This whole night has been a clusterfuck for me, and I’m not entirely convinced I’m not high and hallucinating right now.”

It wasn’t true - he hadn’t been high in nearly five years, and he’d given up excessive drinking after reuniting with the Losers. He knew Eddie knew that already, but it was the first excuse he found himself latching onto.

“Jesus Christ, Richie.” The smaller man rolled his eyes but remained otherwise serious. “I’m trying to say that I’ve...I’ve liked you since we were kids too. Loved you, actually. God knows why since you’re an idiot who annoys the shit out of me, but damn it, I love you, Richie Tozier.”

“…Fuck.”

“I was never going to tell you,” Eddie admitted, folding his arms and looking rather uncomfortable. “Even though I decided I was going to try to be brave, that I wasn’t going to keep up with a sham of a marriage, I thought that you weren’t…you know. And I thought that even if you were, then I’d be the last one you’d want to be with.” Strangely, he gave a smile. “Fucking dumb, right?”

Richie nodded. “Very fucking dumb. Jesus, Eddie, do you not see the way I’ve been looking at you? Fuck, there’s been days you’ve given me boners in public just because I was thinking about you.”

“Urgh, too much information, asshole,” Eddie huffed – but the affection behind it was obvious, his facial expression softening. “So…where does this leave us, Richie? What happens next?”

“Next?” Richie considered this. “Well, being honest, I’d love to take you out and do this shit properly, but…”

“But?”

He hesitated, giving the other man a surprisingly serious look. “But that’s your choice – if you wanna stay friends, I respect that.”

To his surprise, Eddie huffed before stepping forwards; before Richie could say anything else, he was being kissed firmly on the mouth, hands cupping his face and pulling him close. He wasted no time in closing his eyes and kissing him back, his heart soaring as his entire body came alive.

For the first time all night, the panic and anxiety that had set him on edge flowed away completely: all he felt was exhilaration and relief – and love, love for this man in his arms. Suddenly it didn’t matter about what anyone else thought – whether ‘fans’ would send him hate online, how this could impact his entire career, his manager hounding him with how much he’d regret this – because none of it was important, not as important as this, as finally being able to hold the person he loved, who he’d always loved, and being able to be open with himself as well as those closest to him.

Yeah, Richie thought to himself blissfully, he didn’t regret his decision in the slightest.