#he totally gets off of the flustered energy seeping off from you

[mrsoharaa]

I feel like sparring with Suguru (especially with cult leader! suguru) he would be sooo intimate and mischievously coy with you. Like, it'll be the little fragile finger grazes slipping across your hips, agonizingly slowly. The hot, prodding whispers of encouragement and slight taunt bellowing directly into the depths of your ringing ears. And god, don't even get me started on the way this man swiftly and easily maneuvers manhandles your every abrasive attack, how easily he pins you to the nearest solid object. Hips solidly connected with yours, eyes leering ever so intently and strictly into your own — creates a massive swarm of unwarranted butterflies deep within your fluttering tummy.

[amajikilvr]

five times you surprised tamaki amajiki and the one time he surprised you

word count 1.3k

reader type gender-neutral

“Amajiki-Kun?”

Their sweet voice makes his heart jolt, its beating rhythm shifts from a casual jog to a panicked sprint. He squeezes his eyes shut when he takes sight of the cheeky grin that quickly spreads across Mirio’s face. He remains frozen until his friend’s foot swings out and nicks him in the shin underneath their usual shared lunch table.

Tamaki’s eyes fly open and his breath catches on the stale cafeteria air like a bur snagging on an exposed sock when he inevitably sees them standing and gazing down at him. It’s a fleeting look, but it’s enough for him to notice the apples of their cheeks puffing out cutely and their whimsical aura of a smile that’s practically blinding.

His throat is bone-dry, but a single word somehow sneaks past his also withered lips.

“Y-Yes?” He’s still staring down at his half-eaten lunch, but they’re so utterly warm, he can easily feel them beside him.

What could they possibly want from him?

Another gentle kick to his lower leg encourages Tamaki to slowly lift his head and turn to them. He’s glad he did because their bright smile is somehow even brighter than before.

“So, hi, I know this is random but....”

They’re absolutely lovely in every sense of the word; from the way they draw out the last word to the breathy little laugh that punctuates their sentence.

“... I was wondering if you wanted this. I made way too many yesterday, but then I saw you sitting over here and remembered how you said you had a sweet tooth during that icebreaker on the first day of school. I just kinda thought “Oh, that’s perfect”, but you definitely don’t have to take it, okay?”

Amid his first stage cardiac arrest, Tamaki had failed to even see the skewer of delectable glistening Dango they’re holding. They offer it out to him and he manages to accept the dessert with a shaking hand.

“Thank you, Y/L/N.” He feels his face bloom with a rather powerful flush.

They nod and make heart-dropping eye contact for a second. “Of course, Amajiki. You’re very welcome. Have a nice day!”

Mirio starts talking before they’re even completely out of earshot.

“You do realize that they probably made those just for you? Congrats, I think someone has a not-so-secret admirer if you know what I mean.”

“Please not right now, Mirio…” Tamaki whines in embarrassment before taking a huge first bite out of his treat.

It’s one of the best things he’s ever tasted.

Tamaki gingerly tears off the little blue butterfly plush that was tapped to the front of his locker. He squeezes the stuffed animal and resists the sudden urge to hug it to his chest.

A single sheet of paper floats out and to his feet after opening the door. Someone must have put these here not that long ago. The realization gives Tamaki an unnerving chest pain and a fluttering crescendo in his stomach.

He carefully picks it up and a faint gasp escapes him as he examines the sparkly multi-colored butterfly stickers that cover the paper and the single sentence scrawled among them.

“I heard that you liked them <3”

Tamaki wants to shove his head in his locker, but before he does, he sees them out of the corner of his eye at the drinking fountain. He’s never seen them in this hallway before…

They finish and apparently spot him, smiling and waving brightly like it’s something the two of them do every day. Tamaki nearly faints on the spot with his heart pattering up a storm.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I forgot!” Nejire squeals and pushes away the textbook in front of her. It’s clear their weekly “Big Three” studying session is about to take the back burner…

“Amajiki, guess what?”

“What?” Tamaki winces, wondering how this could possibly involve him.

Nejire lets out another excited squawk and spins her decorated pen between her fingers. “Y/L/N was totally talking about you! I heard them! Do you know what they said? They think you’re really cute, Amajiki. Can you believe it?”

He can not.

Usually, hearing that others were talking about him would’ve sent waves of unbearable anxiety rushing over him, drowning him, but this whole thing feels a bit different. Don’t get it twisted, he’s still as anxious as ever clutching his pencil like a lifeline. The difference is that there’s a pleasant kind of flickering deep inside his chest.

“You’re joking…” Tamaki groans and jumps when Mirio slaps his back roughly.

“I knew it!” He makes an enthusiastic ‘whoop’ noise. “I told you that they were into you!”

Nejire clasps her hands together, her flowing mass of hair practically vibrating like the rest of her and her energy. “This is so, so adorable! Look how pink his ears are getting!”

Tamaki doesn’t hesitate to cover his face and hide away from his two well-meaning, but overbearing friends.

His savior comes in the form of a still laughing Mirio. “Hado-san, we’ve got to leave him be before he combusts on the spot.”

Tamaki can’t believe he agreed to this. Well, technically he didn’t have a choice in the matter, but still.

He’s selling t-shirts with his face on them. His face! Why would Fatgum ever think this was a good idea for a fundraiser? It’s horrifying, actually. People have already purchased some and he still can’t fathom it as an actual thing. Why would anyone want that?

And then everything goes into overdrive when they walk up to his stand, practically skipping with a winning smile.

He can’t help but gawk at them.

“What?” They tilt their head, an easy laugh masking any possibility of them being as flustered as him.

“I’m a huge fan of Suneater.”

Their lips are soft and lush when they brush against Tamaki’s burning cheek. He feels so warm, the closest thing that he can compare the feeling to is the sensation of when you dip into a steaming bubble bath. They’re just so close to him and he swears he can hear their heart beating as hard as his.

They pull away, lashes touching their cheekbones and exhaling deeping. Their hand still grips his forearm before that touch leaves him too.

“Bye… Tamaki.” His first name seems to hesitantly seep out and he feels like he’s floating. “See you tomorrow?”

It’s such a good feeling that he can’t even get himself to pay attention to his shock.

“See you tomorrow.”

This is long overdue and Tamaki knows it.

Mirio and Nejire’s encouragement plus his own common sense is pushing him to ask them out right now. It’s just odd that they haven’t done it first already. They were the ones initiating everything, after all. He guesses they’ve just left that up to him for whatever reason.

He’s going to rise to that occasion. He has to.

“I wanted to ask…”

He pauses, taking a deep breath to steady himself. They nod at him to continue. Their smile is gentle, equivalent to a fluffy blanket. Their eyes are sparkling, so glittering and alive. Their hands look soft, tempting to take and squeeze in his own.

“... D-Do you want to go out with me?”

Tamaki glups heavily and forces himself to watch for their reaction.

Those lively eyes go wide and honeyed lips part slightly. Their gaze swiftly falls to the ground and Tamaki’s heart takes a huge drop from several stories. It feels like it’s getting harder to breathe…

Suddenly, they move forward, wrapping their arms around his middle. Their face buries into the crook of his neck. He shivers and embracing them back when he hears, and feels, the words whispered against his exposed skin.

“I would love to.”

────────────────────────

[jubilantwriter]

It All Began with a Big Crash

(AO3)

Summary:  It's the one year anniversary of Boyfriend and Girlfriend's growing relationship, and Boyfriend absolutely, totally, DID NOT forget that today is that special day. And yet, that one single DID NOT FORGETTing leads to a domino effect, resulting in quite possibly one of the best nights of their lives.

After all, what's the point of a performance if no one's having fun during it?

Word Count: 7154

(A/N:  Happy 1st Anniversary of Friday Night Funkin’!  I literally wrote and edited this all in one day.  Got home at midnight, started writing, and then I posted it at 10 am, took a nap, went to work, AND NOW I’M HERE ON TUMBLR :D  Anyway, FNF has been a big comfort for me these past months, so it’s only fitting that I put myself through hell to get this little bit out.  I hope you all enjoy!)

\\\\

Now, Boyfriend isn't a forgetful man.  This thought crosses his mind as he stands up abruptly after paying for his lunch and racing for the door.

"Be-!"

"Eep!"

CRASH .

But sometimes things... slip from his mind, and while he's not one prone to panic, THIS is something worth panicking over.

"-EP.  SHIT.  SORRY!"

"My dishes!"  A blonde server kneels on the ground, surrounded by the clumsy carnage created by Boyfriend inadvertently crashing into her on his rush out.  She glares accusingly at him as the boy jogs in place.  "Again, really?!"

"Sorry, sorry!"  He waves his hands in front of him before looking over his shoulder.  "I'll pay for the dishes and shit uh, later!"  He dashes out the door as she calls out behind him.

"That's what you said LAST time!"

Well, last time he was dirt poor, but now that he's pretty famous around town, he's actually got the moolah to pay for damages!  So yeah, next time!

...Is what he meant to tell her, but he's already busting into the conveniently placed flower shop, panting as he looks around wildly for help.  The florist in question glances at him completely unbothered by his entrance.  

"Forgot an important date again?" she quips, staring back down at her phone as she drapes herself over the counter.

"BAP!" he says defensively, because he DIDN'T forget!  It just... slipped his mind a little.  In his defense, he'd gotten so used to being with Girlfriend that it felt ... normal!  Like they've been together for YEARS and being with her just felt so right, and every day was the greatest day of his life because he had her by his side.  So yeah, maybe the days slipped past him in a blissful sort of way, like when he gets super focused on his music or some arbitrary task, and the hours slip by and suddenly it's the next morning!  It's kind of like that, but with a girl who makes him smile and laugh and forget that life is supposed to be difficult and hard, and not fun and invigorating.  And to think they've only been together for a year...

...A year.

...Wait.

Shit.

SHIT.

He's doing it again!

He bustles over and slaps a fifty on the counter.  "Bop!" he announces in a rush, tapping his fingers impatiently as the florist holds it up to the light. 

With a low whistle, she puts it back on the table.  "Wow, you're really going all out this time, huh?"  Before Boyfriend can respond to her sarcasm, the florist calls out to her partner in the back.  "Flower!  Miku's lil bro is back at it again, dropping a fifty and hoping for the best."

"Again?"  A husky voice makes its way over as a familiar bush of thick hair pops out from beyond the doorway.  "Boyfriend, you should know by now that apology bouquets are at least a hundred."

"Ba- skida- AUGH!  It's not an apology bouquet!"  He stomps his foot, irritated to break out the English but knowing full well it’s a matter that needs clear communication.  So not really a waste of words, just a waste of energy on two ladies who will give him shit regardless of the noise he makes.

"Oh yeah?  What's the occasion?"  The taller florist - Lily, hilariously enough - leans forward with a smirk as Flower keeps her deadpan stare.  

"It's for my anniversary!"  He crosses his arms and harrumphs as Lily whistles again.

"Damn, and you didn't invite us to the wedding?  Harsh."

"No, not that-!  Ugh, you know what I mean."

"Do we?"  Lily and Flower exchange a look before Lily's smirk widens.  "I dunno, you don't give us the dirt anymore.  Remember when you'd come in here all the time, red in the face trying to get apology bouquets for that one boy?  What's his name-"

"Pico," he answers, a bit flustered as the memories rush through his mind before shaking his head, "and he liked them all, by the way!  But this isn't about him-"

"No, it's about your new girl, right?"  Flower cuts in, leaning against the doorway with a bored expression.  "What's her favorite color?  It's not green, is it?"

"It's red, and please can you make it quick?  I dunno when she wants us to meet up, so...!"  He flashes them two thumbs up and is about to bounce, but Lily grabs the collar of his shirt with a chuckle.

"Not so fast, dumbass."  She pulls him back to the counter as he whines pathetically.  "You really think a fifty is enough for an anniversary bouquet?"

Oh no.  He starts to sweat, feeling his wallet tremble in fear.  They're doing it again.  "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean, Flower?"  Lily turns back to the shorter florist as the other makes a thoughtful hum.

"One hundred, at least."

"Yeah, at least one hundo."  Lily holds her hand out.  "C'mon, cough it up, shorty."

This is beyond unreal, but at the same time, it is completely expected from people who teased him relentlessly since he was a kid.  "If it wasn't for Miku, you guys wouldn't even be here!"

"We're only here because of convenience, please."  Lily snorts as the boy continues to struggle.  "So you aiming for an apology bouquet or an anniversary bouquet?"

"Just cut me a deal, please?  For old time's sake?" He clasps his hands together and bats his eyelashes.  "I'm still that cute little kid who used to pretend to be like Miku!  Who could forget good ol' Mikuo?"

"One hundred."  Flower cuts off the potential reminiscing and steps up to the counter.  "Or it's an apology bouquet."

Grumbling miserably, Boyfriend digs around in his pocket and manages to snag something.  He pulls out his hand and counts out four quarters.  Quietly, he puts it on top of the fifty.

Flower and Lily both look at it silently.

"...Well," Flower begins, slowly taking the money, "I did say one hundred."

Roll with it roll with it roll with it-

"Yeah, and uh, four twenty-fives makes one hundred, right?"

"What, are we speaking French now?"  Lily asks with a sneer.

"No," Boyfriend begins, blinking slowly, "pretty sure we're speaking English." 

"Oh my god."  She slaps her hand over Flower's.  "We are not doing this."

"I gave you one hundred," he argues, sweating miserably as he turns up the confidence.  

"He did give us one hundred," Flower agrees.

"You are not giving this to him.  You know he didn't even plan this!  He's too stupid to pull a slick move like that!"

Boyfriend just smiles and gives them a double thumbs up.

"It's not like anyone else is gonna be coming in to give us another job."  Flower hums and stows the money in the register, much to Lily's chagrin.  "And besides, if I get bored making it, I'll just take a nap."

"Flower-!"  Before Lily can protest even more, Flower disappears into the backroom, no doubt to either work on the bouquet or take that nap.  Lily turns back to Boyfriend and glares, jabbing a finger against his chest.  "Be back here in a few hours.  You're taking whatever the hell she makes for you, stingy little bitch."

"That's all I have on my person!"

"We accept credit and debit."

"I have bills to pay."

"You're such a little-!"  Lily makes a strangling gesture with her hands before grabbing and shaking him.  "You better give this girl a helluva anniversary."

"I'm trying!"  He backs up and shoots the tall florist finger guns before vacating the premises.  Okay, one thing down.  Next: chocolates.  Easy-peasy.  What place sells heart-shaped boxes of chocolates and other cutesy, anniversary items?

Boyfriend makes a beeline for the local grocery store and spends only a total of thirty minutes there, making the proud purchase of a box of chocolates, a little teddy bear holding a heart, and even a balloon that says, "I Love You".  Score!  Damn, he's doing great so far.  And it was such a quick purchase!  Maybe Miku's friends could learn a thing or two about making quick sales instead of harassing him over every little thing.

What's next, what's next...

A place for dinner, right!  Girlfriend loves the local bar.  Great food, a nice atmosphere, open mic nights, a server who's familiar with them...

A server that he crashed into and made her drop all those dishes to the floor... like that other time he did it to her and held up the service for a sizable amount of time...

He gulps.  Hm.  She's probably still mad at him too.  But uh, huh.  He's not sure what to do.  Maybe, maybe...

He takes out his phone and dials a familiar number.  It rings only twice before a gruff, annoyed voice answers on the other side.

"I'm busy, the fuck you want?"

Without missing a beat, he gets on his metaphorical hands and knees.  "Pico, can I ask a favor, please please pretty please?"

"Wow, English.  Must be desperate."   There's a loud crash on his end before Pico's voice yells at a pair of playful, young laughter.  "Hey- hey!  Watch it!"

"Pico, so uh, could you-?"

"Hey- give me that!"   More raucous laughter fills the line as Pico sighs.  "Sorry, Bee, don't think I can help ya today.  I was supposed to just watch these two kids 'til Lila came back, but then I got a call from a pal who needs help at her joint and- Skid, Jesus fucking Christ -"   There's some shuffling and a grunt as a playful squeal rings a little too close to the phone.  Pico continues as though nothing happened on his end.  "-and so basically I'm double booked for the night."

"Oh, okay."  He tries not to let the disappointment seep into his voice, but another sigh from Pico suggests that he heard it regardless.  

"Look, I'm real sorry, wish I could help, but a line's formin' and I can only do so much."   Pico grunts and a soft thump is heard.  Two voices chatter away distantly in the background, but Boyfriend focuses solely on Pico.  "Why?  What happened?"

"Well, today's me and Girlfriend's anniversary, and I wanted to take her out but-"

"Can't figure out a place to take her?  C'mon man, you- Jesus, you two, slow down, I'm comin'- you already know one."

"Yeah, the bar but-"

"What, ya worried about 'bout lines or somethin'?  I know it's busy and shit, but I'm sure Serv will get ya guys' a table easy.  It's just you two, you'll be fine."

"Okay, but-"

"Oh my GOD, what the HELL is THAT?!"  

A faint, childish voice answers Pico's horrified question as Boyfriend listens in.  "That's Moloch!"

"...MOLOCH?"

A roar sounds from Pico's side of the phone call.  The voice - uh, Skid, was it? - laughs excitedly.  "Yeah!  He's our friend!"

"He lives in Skid's attic!"

A demonic voice nearly blows out Boyfriend's eardrums.  "GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

"...Does your MOM know about this?!"

"Sorta!  She thinks he's a rat."

"Hey hey HEY, back OFF-!  Sorry, Bee, I'll call ya later!"  

The last thing he hears is another roar before the line hangs up.  Pico will probably be fine - he's handled worse after all, and even Boyfriend's faced off a demon or two!  Maybe three, if that Lemon Man those two kids were friends with counted as well.  Man, demons are just everywhere, huh?

...Speaking of demons.  There’s one demon he really should be focusing on.  Like getting their dinner date set up at her favorite bar in town.  Even though he’s probably on that bar’s shitlist for knocking over their number one employee again .

But Girlfriend really does love going to that bar, and if it's for her...  Fuck it, he'll suck it up and take whatever Server-chan's got against him.  He'll just challenge her to a quick rap battle, win, and THEN they can have a nice dinner!  Yeah, that's what he'll do.  Lily's words replay in his mind as he walks off to his apartment to change into something nicer.

"You better give this girl a helluva anniversary."

Fuck yeah he will.

"Damn, after all these years, you still can't tie a tie."  Lily frets over his outfit as she helps him tidy up a bit.  A colorful ribbon now decorates the box of chocolates, tying it together with the teddy bear with the balloon also tied around its wrist.  He grabs the tied together present after she rolls his sleeves up to his elbow.

"Bouquet?" he asks hopefully as Lily dusts off his shoulders for the hundredth time.  

She huffs and shakes her head, blowing a stray hair out of her face.  "You're lucky Flower didn't take a nap halfway through.  It's her best work so far!  All for the low, low cost of $51, tax not included."

"There's tax?!"  He almost falls over, but Lily grabs him by the collar of his dress shirt.

"Chill out, we'll charge it to Miku's account."

"Oh, thanks."  He swats away her hands when she tries to tuck in the other half of his shirt.  "Fuck off, it's part of my style!"

"What, being sloppy?"

"The ladies love it."

"Your lady deserves better."

"But I'm the best there is!"

"Oh, God," Lily groans as her expression falls into despair.  "Egotism really does run in the family."

"Enough about the family ego," Flower pipes up, her hands full with a large, beautiful bouquet.  "These flowers need to be appreciated."

"Holy shit."  Boyfriend takes the entire bouquet, admiring the reds, pinks, and whites.  There's a smattering of small, lavender flowers here and there, making the other colors pop.  "Roses!" he points out, the only flower he recognizes.

"Yup, and there's also lilies, alstroemeria, and-"

"Don't waste your breath," Lily cuts in, covering Flower's mouth before she can list them all out.  "He won't remember any of the names."

A disappointed sigh escapes Flower, so he gives her the biggest grin he can muster.  "Yo, I still think it's hella bomb to look at.  I really think she'll love it!"

Flower perks up a bit, a small smile forming on her usually stoic face.  "...Cool."

"Alright, get outta here."  Lily shoves him back to the door with a grin.  "You got a hot date, yeah?  Go give her the night of her life!"

"Yeah!"  He waves to the pair before leaving.  "Gonna have a great night at the bar!"

Lily's smile falters as Flower's smile immediately disappears.  "...The what?"

"See ya!"

"Wait, Boyfriend!  You're taking her out to the fucking BAR?!"  

He doesn't have the time to turn back and answer Lily, so he goes along his merry way, bouquet clutched tightly against his chest with the bear.  Hopefully the incident from earlier today has been swept away.  He really doesn't want to have a rap battle with Server-chan, but if he has to...

"Boyfriend!"  A sweet, melodic voice pulls him from his thoughts as he looks over to see his beautiful, wonderful Girlfriend.  Her iconic look now sports a sleek, black jacket reminiscent of her mother's own jacket.  It looks stunning on her, and a soft, longing "beep" escapes him as she giggles and kisses his cheek.  "Hey, hun.  Happy anniversary!"

"Happy anniversary!"  He holds out his gifts for her to take, and he delights in her unabashed joy as she takes them.

"Oh!  This teddy bear is so cute, and these flowers are lovely!"  Another giggle escapes her as she points at the bouquet.  "Roses!"

"That's what I said!"  They both share a laugh before her smile settles into something soft and relaxed.

"Now I wish I got you something too..."  Girlfriend pouts a bit, but he kisses it away with a grin.

"Hey, don't sweat it!  Lemme spoil you for the night instead."  He offers her his arm, and she happily loops hers with his.  They walk into the bar together and are met with a familiar face standing behind a podium.  Despite being the hostess, Cassette Girl keeps her iconic cap on as she notices them and greets them with a lazy smile.

"Wooow," she drawls out, giving Boyfriend a knowing grin.  "Back again so soon?  And after that huge fuss you made."

"Fuss?"  Girlfriend gives Boyfriend a curious look.  

"Uhh, beep bah."

"Didn't tell her about your mishap, huh?"  Cassette Girl raises an eyebrow and shakes her head.  "Well, if you wanted to know, Serv got it figured out.  Called in a favor last minute, and luckily he was nice enough to help out."  

"Sorry about that," he says sheepishly, and Cassette Girl merely shrugs.

"It's whatever.  Not the first time you messed her up real good.  And besides, you're not even the first person to make her crash and burn for a hot minute."  

"Is this still about the fuss you guys are talking about?"  Girlfriend looks between the two as Cassette Girl chuckles.

"Yeah, but don't worry about it.  Lemme take ya to your seats.  Bar or nah?"  

"Nah, it's our anniversary date today!"

"And you guys are spending it here?”  She pauses for a second in thought before shaking her head.  “Alright."  Cassette Girl takes it in stride and seats them near the miniature stage.

"Oh, is it open mic night tonight?"  Girlfriend sits down, already excited for the night as Cassette Girl chuckles and hands them the menus.

"Nah, originally we had a band booked tonight, but their back-up vocalist got injured, so they called it off last minute.  It's gonna be a quiet night instead."

"Aww."  The pout on Girlfriend's face lasts only a second before her smile returns.  "Oh well!  Sometimes quiet is nice too."

"Right you are.  Anyway, your waiter will be with you guys in just a sec, so take your time.  We're not too busy tonight, so feel free to cause more havoc."  She flashes a grin before walking back to her station.  

Girlfriend waves goodbye and turns back to Boyfriend with a smile.  "Cassey is so nice!  I wish we could talk to her more."  

"Maybe we'll catch her on the street one of these days."  He cracks open the menu, perusing the contents before deciding on getting his usual.

"Maybe!  Should I try something new tonight?"

"Wouldn't hurt."

"But I don't know what to get..."

"Maybe we can ask the waiter?"  He looks around for their supposed waiter, but all he sees is an unimpressed Pico standing at their table.  "Oh!  Pico!  You're dressed like a waiter!"

True to his observations, Pico is dressed similarly to Server-chan; a black long sleeved shirt replaces his usual green sweater, and a pair of black slacks replaces his usual beige cargo pants.  The only splash of color on his outfit is the bright orange apron that all servers seem to wear as per uniform, and it absolutely clashes with Pico's own bright, red hair.  

"That's because I am the waiter, dumbass."  The bite from his remark is lost from the tired slump of his shoulders, and the ginger begins to resemble Server-chan with each passing second.  "At least for tonight.  She called me in for a favor, and I agreed to help."

The conversation from earlier today pings in Boyfriend's memory.  "Is this what you meant when you said you were double booked?"

"Yeah.  Told me some blue-haired douchebag steamrolled her on his way out, and she ended up breaking a whole buncha dishes.  She went out to go replace the whole set, so I'm coverin' for the rest of her shift while she takes care of it.  Now that I think about it," Pico fixes him with a stern, knowing glare as Boyfriend shrinks under his sharp eyes, "I kinda already know about a certain blue-haired douchebag."

"I'll pay her back, I promise."  

"You fuckin' better."  Pico looks over to Girlfriend and offers her a tired grin when she waves cheerfully.  "Hey, Red, he treatin' ya well tonight?"

"Yup!  He got me chocolates, a bear, a balloon, AND a bouquet!"

"Really spoilin' ya there."

"Only the best for Gigi, right?"  He nudges Pico playfully, the earlier irritation already melting away from his expression as he rolls his eyes and ruffles Boyfriend's hair.

"Yeah yeah.  Ya guys ready to order?"

Pico takes their orders and departs quickly, the couple watching him disappear somewhere in the bar as their collective thoughts gather on one thing only.

"Mm, Pico should wear uniforms more often, huh?"

"It definitely looks flattering on him."  They both hum before taking sips from the water Pico had set down earlier while taking their orders.  With no ginger to distract them, Girlfriend's attention centers back on Boyfriend as she smiles.  "Thanks for taking me out here for dinner!  I know it's not easy for us to go out on dates since my parents still hover, so I'm really happy that we went out like you planned!"

"Oh yeah, totally."  His easy grin hides the absolute panic he had for the entire half of his day when he realized he had nothing planned.  "I wish I could treat you out for something better, but nothing else is really happening around this time of year-"

"Except for Spooky Month!"  Two voices pipe up out of nowhere as the costumed duo surprise the couple.  

"Oh, goodness, hello!"  She laughs as Skid and, uh, Pump?  Stand by their table looking curious.  "How have you two been?"

"Okay!  Mr. Pico has been babysitting us since Mom's been busy with her work stuff."  Skid bounces on his heels as Pump looks up more calmly.  "We wanted to introduce him to Moloch, but..."

"He didn't like him too much.  He said Moloch is more scary than spooky."  Pump sticks his tongue out and laughs.  "Silly Mr. Pico!  He does not understand that Moloch is our friend!"

"Moloch?"  Girlfriend hums as bobs her head in thought.  "That name sounds familiar.  There was a demon that went missing months ago by that name..."  

"Oh, weird!"

"Moloch came to us months ago too!  But now he stays in Skid's attic."

"It's like a sleepover every day!"

"That sounds like fun!"  She giggles as the kids bounce around her.

Boyfriend watches with a smile before remembering that “double booked” thing that Pico mentioned earlier.  Were these the kids he was watching when Boyfriend called…?  "So why are you guys here?  If Pico is supposed to be babysitting you guys, but is working here instead..."  Boyfriend wonders how Pico manages to balance so many jobs at once.  He himself can barely handle the one!  

"Mr. Pico said that he didn't trust Moloch and wanted us to stay somewhere safer."

"Which is weird, because Moloch is our friend!  But it made him happier, so we came here with him."

"It's boring here, so Pump and I have been teaching lots of people how to spooky dance!"

"Oh?"  Girlfriend indulges them and smiles as they crowd closer to her.  "Can you show me too?"

"You don't know the spooky dance?"

"We should show her!"

"It goes like this!"  The pair of children do a little dance for her, and a happy laugh escapes her as she watches.  Boyfriend leans back and enjoys her happiness as the kids continue to chat with her.

"That looks like fun!"

"You can do it too!"  Skid tugs on her hands, and it's enough to get her to stand up.  "Just hold out your hands like this-"

"-and then you move like this!"  The two of them demonstrate one more time before looking at Girlfriend expectantly.  It takes her a few times, but the kids are surprisingly patient and more than happy to show her as many times as she requests until she gets it right.  The sight of her having so much fun melts his heart, and he sighs as he watches her enjoy herself.  

"Damn, look at you, meltin' into the table."  

Boyfriend nearly slams his face against the table, making Pico guffaw as he puts their meals on the table.  "Dude!"

"What?  Just spittin' facts.  Hey!"  Pico's hands come to rest on his hips as he glares at the kids.  Both Girlfriend and Boyfriend exchange a look, hiding their amused grins behind their hands as Pico takes on his caretaking role.  "Skid, Pump, what did I say 'bout botherin' the customers?"

"Uhh..."  The two kids freeze in place, looking at each other before looking at Pico.  "Don't?"

"And what are you two doin'?"

"Bothering your friends!"  Pump grins as Skid nods in agreement.  "They are not customers, right?"

A puff of a laugh escapes Girlfriend as Boyfriend nudges Pico.  "Yeah dude, we're your friends, not customers.  We should get a de-"

A glare is enough to silence Boyfriend, but Girlfriend's composure quickly falls apart as a fit of giggles escapes her.  Pico ignores her as he focuses his attention on his two charges.  "They're still customers."

"But it's boring here!"

"Yeah, it's too quiet.  You said there'd be music!"

"But there's no music, except for the soft elevator music."

"But that's boring too."

Both boys pout as Pico sighs and massages his temples.  "Look, I didn't know the band would cancel today.  After I'm done here, we can do something fun , okay?"

"Like getting candy?"

"Yeah, like gettin' candy."  The two kids cheer and run off somewhere before Pico can stop them.  "Hey-!"

"Damn, Pico, I didn't think you'd be good with kids."  Boyfriend snickers as he eats a fry, watching as Pico sighs for the umpteenth time.

"You call that bein' good with kids?"

"It's better than I'd ever expect outta you."

"Rude little bitch."  Pico snatches a few fries and chomps on them, ignoring Boyfriend's protests.  

"When do you get off, Pico?"  Girlfriend spins her fork around in her pasta before feeding the first bite to Boyfriend, keeping her eyes on Pico as the ginger hums thoughtfully.

"Technically nine, but I gotta watch the kids 'til ten.  That's when Lila comes back from her shit."

"Do you wanna come over for movie night?"  She looks over to Boyfriend who nods in agreement.  Pico laughs and shakes his head.

"Ain't this supposed to be ya guys' anniversary date?  Why the hell am I bein' invited?"

"'Cause it's more fun when you join us!"  Boyfriend pipes up, making his eyes go wide with hope, knowing how much of a sucker Pico is for his puppy dog eyes.  Like he predicts, Pico grumbles and looks away, a slight blush to his cheeks as he tries to regain his composure.

"Touchin', but nah.  It's y'all's day.  It's not my place to interrupt."  

"You wouldn't be-!"  A ringtone goes off in the middle of her sentence.  Girlfriend pauses, taking her phone out as her smile vanishes.  "Oh, just a minute."  She leaves the table quickly as she answers her phone with a faint, "Hi, Daddy..."

"Hm."  They watch her go outside before Pico turns back to Boyfriend.  "I hope you have somethin' really good planned for tonight."

"Well, I don't have anything planned, per se-"

"Oh for fuck's sake-"

"But!  Movie night is gonna be a thing!  Or, was."  Boyfriend frowns, not liking how it was her dad who called her.  Knowing him, he could be asking her to come home earlier than planned, ruining their romantic movie night.  "I was gonna play it by ear, y'know, in case something like that happens."

"Fair."  Pico crosses his arms and fixes Boyfriend with a stare.  "So how are you gonna save this night then?"

"Dunno yet."  Boyfriend bites his lip and scratches at the table.  "Like I said, I don't have much planned, so like..."  His eyes wander over to the stage.  A keyboard is the only instrument present on the stage alongside the stereos.  He blinks slowly at the sight of it, a hum low in his throat.  

"What?  Ya suddenly got an idea?"  Pico follows his gaze and whistles low.  "Gonna sing a love song?"

"What?  No."  A pause.  "Maybe.  I dunno."

"You dunno?"

"I don't really have a song lined up."  But it would be perfect.  She loves it when he sings.  Or raps.  Or does anything really.  And she did seem a little disappointed when she found out that there wasn't going to be a show tonight...

"You're a rapper," Pico supplies easily.  "Just freestyle."

"But I don't have any beats."  Which is true, unless he gets some help.  His eyes wander up to meet Pico's gaze.  "...Can I ask a favor?"

"Shoot."

"You still beatbox?"

And Pico smirks.  "Only if ya got a plan."  

Boyfriend looks around the bar, his eyes landing on the Spooky Boys and Cassette Girl.  Music flows behind his eyes as he maps out the beats and flows on the spot.  Fingers tap out the rhythm he wants to follow, and Pico taps his foot in tandem.  "I think," he says, watching as Girlfriend comes back into the bar with a gloomy look on her face, "I've got a plan."

Pico leans forward, and Boyfriend quickly whispers it to him before shooing the ginger away.  When Girlfriend takes her seat, Boyfriend takes it upon himself to buy some time for Pico as he keeps Girlfriend's attention on him.

"Something up?"

"Oh, it's just Daddy."  Her frown deepens, and Boyfriend can feel his heart drop from the sight.  She shouldn't be unhappy on their anniversary - of course her dad would ruin things for her.  "He wants me to come home early, says he doesn't want me to stay over too late since he doesn't trust you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Tch.  Your old man needs to lay off."  From the corner of his eye, he sees Cassette Girl wander to some backroom, only to reappear with a few more coworkers as one of them takes over her position by the podium.  Pico follows her next, helping her set up a couple of mics as she tests out the keyboard.  The noises catch the attention of the patrons, including Girlfriend as she turns in interest at the ruckus.

"What's going on?  Oh, is there a show happening after all?"  A small smile forms on her lips as she watches the prep.  "I wonder who they managed to get!"

"Yeah, I wonder."  Boyfriend lets her watch them for a second longer before taking her attention again.  "So how long can you stay out?"

"Mmm, at most, maybe an hour?  Daddy's imps will come and pick me up, regardless of where I am."  She puffs her cheeks out, which would normally be cute if she wasn't so distressed.  "Mommy was okay with me spending the night!  But Daddy won't even let me stay before midnight, so that ruins movie night..."

"Hey, don't worry about it.  We can always have movie night whenever."  He reaches over and takes her hand, giving it a firm, comforting squeeze.  

"But today was supposed to be our day."  She frowns again, holding onto his hand as she sighs softly.  "We were supposed to have a nice night doing whatever we wanted.  And now that's going to be ruined because my dad is being... himself again."

Random beats start playing.  It takes them both by surprise as they turn around to see Pico messing with... some kind of pad?  Is that a launchpad?  Cassette Girl shakes her head and points to some buttons before Pico nods and- ah.  So he didn't steal it from someone.  Clearly, it was Cassette Girl's own device.  

"What are they doing?"  Girlfriend watches with more interest as the two kids clamber onto the stage, Pico talking to them softly as they nod along to whatever he's saying excitedly.  He wags his finger like a metronome, and the boys both follow its movement before nodding furiously as he grins and pats the tops of their heads.  As Pico looks up from the boys, he meets Boyfriend's gaze and gives a small nod before standing up.

"They're getting a show ready for you."  Boyfriend grins when Girlfriend looks over to him bewildered.

"What do you mean, for me?"

"Heeeellloooo, everyone!"  Cassette Girl speaks into the microphone with her familiar drawl, getting the patrons to quiet down as they watch with rapt attention.  "Now, as you know, our booked gig for tonight ended up cancelling, but at the very last minute, we managed to snag another performer instead!  You may be familiar with his bright blue hair and obnoxious voice," a rumble of laughter rolls through the crowd, but he takes it all in stride as he waits for the intro to end, "but he's gotten pretty famous throughout these parts for his amazing freestyle rap!  Dedicated to his lovely Girlfriend of one year, we have Mr. Boyfriend, here to perform for one night only!"

"Boyfriend?!"  Girlfriend's eyes widen in excitement as he stands from his seat, grinning confidently as he winks to her.  It's not often he gets to perform for the sake of performing, so he wants to make this the best performance she's ever seen.

"You better give this girl a helluva anniversary."

As if he wasn't.

He takes the offered microphone from Cassette Girl as she takes her place behind the keyboard.  

"Heya, folks!"  He waves out to the crowd as the people who recognize him from his many rap battles cheer him on.  Girlfriend cheers from the crowd, for once enjoying the show as just a normal person, instead of being in the thick of it.  "Like Cassey said, this show is dedicated to my Girlfriend.  I started this whole career for her, and if it weren't for her, I never would have found this flow in my life.  I love her more than any song can convey, so I hope a show's worth of songs can get the message along.  Now are you ready to get funkin' lit?!"  

The crowd erupts into cheers as Girlfriend stands and cheers the loudest, her smile wide and bright as she pumps her fist in the air.  They wait for the crowd to calm down before Pico starts his beatboxing.  The beat begins slow, the notes sounding familiar as recognition settles on Girlfriend's features.

"Yo," he begins, holding the microphone close to his lips as he gets into the beat, "it's the remix."   Pico's beatboxing continues before Cassette Girl joins in with her keyboard.  The beat plays from the launchpad as the beatboxing ends, and that's his cue to start rapping.

"Don't look complacent, wearin' those rags, you ain't adjacent.  Lookie, I'm fly, and you look basic.  Look in her eyes, and I feel like takin' it for the win."   He meets Girlfriend's gaze with a grin as he waves his hand back and forth, pumping the crowd up as he continues to rap.

"Her dad be evil, no twin.  Skin purp' like the Sprite, sippin'.  He open his yap and you wouldn't believe it's the sound of an angel when he spittin'."   At Pico's cue, Skid and Pump join in with a chant of, "Go man go!  Go man go!"   They keep it up as Boyfriend continues to rap, the energy high and exciting as he performs for fun.

"Even though he look like a demon, hold my blue nuts as I battle for the takin'.  Of this girl, I just wanna hold her hand.  Look in our DM's and it's like candy land."   Boyfriend kneels on the stage and gestures for Girlfriend to come closer.  Without missing a beat, Girlfriend makes her way over, her head bobbing in time to the rhythm as she smiles blissfully.

"Yo, I really can't bust when her evil ass dad tryna make my ass be grass.  So I got one shot, learned to spit real hot, and it might just go like this."   As he takes her hand, he pulls her onto the stage and the Spooky Boys go quiet for his next lines.

"I don't mean no disrespect, but there's something about her I can't let go.  Baby, you know that I love you, even though my balls are blue."   The joke gets a giggle from Girlfriend, and it takes all his willpower not to stop rapping just to kiss her right there.

"I want to spend my life with her, even if her dad is evil or some shit.  Now spit it like this: we gettin' freaky on a Friday night, chyeah!"  The crowd goes wild as he scoops Girlfriend up in one arm, cradling her against his body as he continues to rap.  Her arms wrap around his neck as she leans against him, warm and happy in his embrace.

As she should be.  

The Spooky Boys return with the chant, pumping the crowd up some more as they cheer loudly with the rap.

"I just want to hold her tight, chyeah!  Her hair, her eyes, her thighs, yeah.  If I die, it'll all be worth it.  Just to get a chance to show she's worth it!"  He sways with the beat, watching as the crowd gets into the performance.  Besides him, Cassette Girl is grinning, nodding her head to the beat as she plays the mellow tunes on her keyboard.  Pico meanwhile focuses his attention alternating between beatboxing and playing the right beats on the launchpad, all while paying attention to the song and directing when the boys start and end their chant.  Despite the amount of tasks on his shoulders, he holds himself high and proud, enjoying himself with a smile as he moves with the beat.  Even the kids are enjoying themselves, bouncing on the spot and watching Pico intently for his cues.  A part of Boyfriend wonders if they're even paying attention to the lyrics or if they're too engrossed in the beats and sounds coming from the keyboard and launchpad to even care.

Not that it matters.

All that matters is that they're all having fun .  He looks out into the crowd and sees smile upon smile as they're all enjoying themselves to the music.  This.  This is what performing is all about.  The energy, the enjoyment, everyone losing themselves to the music and forgetting their woes and worries for even just a minute-

That's what makes it all so worth it.

He raps the chorus one last time before letting the beat peter out, Pico ending the song with his beatboxing increasing in tempo before ending it abruptly.  The crowd continues their cheers as Boyfriend yells into his microphone.

"You guys ready for more?!"

There's no doubt in his mind that he will absolutely be banned from the bar after this show, just with how rowdy the crowd is getting.  But it's all worth it in the end as he nods to his friends to play whatever beat that comes to mind.  He'll come up with the lyrics on the fly, all of them dedicated to Girlfriend as he sets her down and holds her tight to his side as they sway together.

He doesn't know how long they go for.  All the hype and excitement pushes him to continue, and when he looks over to see if Pico or Cassette Girl or even the boys look just a little tired, he's surprised to see them too excited to even consider taking a break.  The night is filled with raps filled with jokes and love as the clock finally strikes ten.  

Time to end the show.

"Alriiiight, everyone!"  Cassette Girl takes the microphone back from Boyfriend, panting slightly as she gestures to the crowd that grew during the performance.  "Unfortunately, that's it for this show!  Thanks for watching, hope you enjoyed your meals, and please, come back again when we host another gig or open mic!"  The crowd applauds as they all bow.  Cassette Girl pats his shoulder with a grin and turns back to help Pico clean up.  Girlfriend clings to his side, giggling and burying her face against his neck.

"Ohhh, that was so much fun!"  Her giddiness makes him laugh as he hugs her tight, covering her face in kisses as he breathes for the first time since the performance began.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Are you kidding?!"  She laughs and picks him up, twirling them together in a circle before cuddling him midair.  "That was the most fun I've had in ages!"

"I'm glad," he admits, relief washing over him that their night was a success after all.  "Sucks we didn't finish our dinners though."

"I can get boxes for them."  Pico shows up next to them, both kids curled up in his arms as they cling to him.  "Or, uh, I can get Cass to get 'em for ya."

"Aww, are they tired?"  Girlfriend sets Boyfriend down to take a look at the kids.  "They did a really good job tonight!"  Skid lifts his head up, a tired but bright smile on his face as he giggles.

"That was fun!  I wanna do it again, Mr. Pico!"

"I'll think about it.  Remember what we promised before the show?"

"No repeating the bad words around mom," both boys respond, although Pump's words are muffled against Pico's shirt.  He chuckles and nods towards the couple.  

"I gotta get these kids home.  You guys get some rest too."

"We will."  Boyfriend stretches, feeling worn out from the show.  

"See ya."

"Bye, Pico!"  Girlfriend waves as Pico walks off, the two kids waving from Pico's arms.  "He really is good with kids, even if he won't admit it."

"He's always been protective of them."  They both hum, the thought sobering them a bit as they watch the ginger disappear in the crowd.  "We should visit him later and make sure he's okay too."

"Sounds like a plan."  Girlfriend smiles and takes his hand, swinging their arms between them.  A waitress comes by quickly, helping them pack their barely eaten dinners and shooing them out of the bar.  As they leave, Boyfriend passes by Server-chan, her expression still looking exhausted as their eyes meet.  But despite this, she smiles when she sees him, and he hopes she had fun too during his show.

He and Girlfriend walk for about five minutes before a limo pulls up beside them.  She sighs and turns to hug him tight, her face buried in his shoulder before she kisses him softly.

"Thanks for the lovely night," she whispers, soft and tender as the warmth from her cheek seeps through his shirt.  "It really was the best night of my life."

"I'm glad then," he whispers back, pressing a kiss to her temple.  "'Cause I'm gonna make sure I make every night the best night of your life from now on."

She giggles, pulling herself away reluctantly before climbing into the limo.  He watches as it drives away into the night, leaving him alone.

The night air is cold and brisk, but he finds himself warm regardless.  A smile wide and bright on his face as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, a tune coming out in the form of a whistle as he walks home.

What a night to remember.

[aaetherius]

@cxffexngel​:

“ Ah, Lucifer! ” The young man would stammer while holding an arm up, from the door’s frame after the bell has rung announcing the barista’s presence. It was one of those days their schedules connected, with the visit paid to the other still in his mind as a dear memory - their shared little secret of awful coffee cups and laughs, to the hoodie the other had allowed the smaller to keep for the time being, indefinitely despise Sandalphon’s best efforts to give it back, much to his disdain. The barista, with at least all of his uniform sported except of the apron to be taken from the cafe’s restrooms for the staff excuses himself, clicks of his heels echoing within the peaceful quiet of the cafe as he makes his ways towards where the other stands, a delicate assortment of flowers tenderly tucked on his other arm, letting the free one fall to his side – heart pounding loudly against his ears and lips quivering with the thought of simply placing the bouquet right there and run to be never found ever again.

Really, it was in a whim that much confidence was gathered from a fateful morning where his energies had been much higher than the usual, and had taken the initiative of not using someone as a proxy deliveryman ( not that he blames Hal and Mal’s disappointment when he had informed them that their services were not needed for now, the two girls having grown fond of these favors knowing how much they enjoyed it. ) and walk past the door, with the poem of the day and the flowers for Lucifer. Gerbera Daisies proudly displaying their delicate petals at the front, contoured with an assortment of blue Irises delicately painting the Daisies white in a deep hue of a early night’s sky. They helplessly shelter the man’s chest that he feels as if it’d burst from the now rising fluster and shyness that paints in its entirety his heart, but easily balanced with what remains of the confidence grown on Sandalphon. “ I… Hope I’m not imposing too much, but these are for you. And, Good morning. ” And he really, really hopes at least this hints more clearly what months of flowers, each handpicked carefully and with the same passion and understanding evolving within the man’s heart is enough to convey his feelings – maybe, this would be the day. If not? surely it’d hurt, but nothing Sandalphon couldn’t handle, what he’d like to think. Able to shoulder many delusions even if they slowly poison his soul, where silence suffocates his otherwise homely place Lucifer had seen, from outside at least once when he’d taken the turn of accompanying Sandalphon back home much before - or the times he believes there’s something more in the way Lucifer looks at him, yet reels back the moment clouds fog those dazzling eyes that, even now, look as beautiful as ever.

[ cxffexngel || because modern verse lucifer needs also some love! ]

  His back is turned to the door - the morning still early enough that the cafe hasn’t opened just yet. His elbows leaning on the back counter as he takes a manual tally of supplies to ensure there’s enough sugar, cocoa powder, coffee beans, and everything else one can imagine to get them through the rest of the day, and, hopefully, the remainder of the week as well. The soft tune he hums vibrates in his throat, but is largely drowned out by the call clink of wind-chimes, and the tap of shoes against the pavement outside of his humble shop. There’s a hint of joy in his mellow voice, though; one that’s reflected in his glimmering irises. One that us always present whenever his shift happens to overlap with Sandalphon’s, and he can feel the unreliable pace of his heartbeat quicken at the thought. Straightening his back, he inhales against the scent of fresh coffee grinds and cream, but the action does little to quell the ache beginning to form in his chest when he hears the pleasant chime of the bells tied to the door, and the rattle of the glass as it opens. And, just like that, the mental total of each supply he had counted thus far - the very one he had been keeping track of since sunrise that morning, is gone.

    Instantly, he perks up at the sound of his name, leaving behind any chance to finish what he had been doing to turn, and move to greet the other with a sincere smile few were privy to. It’s the same, gentle tilt of his rosy lips that the barista is always offered - the same shimmer present in his otherwise hazy eyes that are always still a bit sleep-kissed from nights he spends coming up with new ideas for coffee recipes or running his fingers through Ellie’s fur to put off the actual act of resting, and the same, but ever faint color that makes his glossy skin look somewhat human instead of like porcelain crafted by the most skillful of hands. “Good morning, Sandalphon.” The same warmth, and fondness that always seeps into his tone whenever he speaks to the other. Though, perhaps, this time, it’s even softer - the memory of the day they had spent together still ever present in his mind. But he welcomed it. To him, it was something soothing in an otherwise tumultuous sea of thoughts.  

     After a moment, his eyes fall to the flowers tucked carefully beneath the other’s arm - his head tilting in a quizzical manner as he admires the collection of flowers. Even now, he’s still not familiarized himself with their meaning, though he knows how much a single flower is capable of conveying without uttering a word. He supposed he could have done more research on such a thing when the anonymous bouquets had become commonplace in the cafe, but he rather liked hearing Sandalphon point it out to him, so he would always, instead, choose to ask the other about them. Seeing them with the barista; however, was new. The flowers had always been delivered to the cafe by a pair of flower shop employees who were always eager, and giddy to hand them over to him. Ah, then, perhaps these flowers weren’t from the sender, and rather a gift from Sandalphon himself - the other had mentioned tending to flowers before, and he seen the shop linked to his home before. But, oh, that thought serves to make his heartbeat race, as well as make it drop to the pit of his stomach at the same time, and he doesn’t quite understand why. A part of him had always imagined that, perhaps, Sandalphon had been the sender, but he had always dismissed that theory - he might have wished for it to be true, but that’s all it was. A daydream. A wish. For there to even be the slightest possibility that all oof those flowers had been from the other, why, it brings him more joy than he believes anything else could have or would have been able to. Yet. in that same breathe, the chance that Sandalphon isn’t the one sending them is enough to make his heart shatter. But those flowers so closely resemble the ones he’s been given in the past - carefully arranged, and breathtaking. 

      He pulls himself away from his worries just as the other speaks up, and his heart quickly leaps from his stomach to his throat, and he’s beginning to wonder if he truly had caught a cold after all of the fretting he had done over Sandalphon’s health when the other had visited him in the middle of a storm. “I see. Thank you, they are truly beautiful,” he exhales, his voice still soft and full of warmth, though it trembles slightly as it leaves his lips, and he gingerly accepts the flowers, holding them close to his chest as his eyes dance over their lush petals. Fingers lift to trace their leaves so lightly that they dare not even sway, and he can feel his chest tighten when he spots a poem tucked away amongst them. It’s enough to make him hope, perhaps a bit too much, as he slowly lifts his head to look at Sandalphon once more. “Are these ones from you, Sandalphon?” How dearly he prays they are. He holds the flowers as carefully as he can, not wishing to grip them too tightly. “May I ask you, once more, what they symbolize? I am afraid, in my research, I have yet to come across them.” Perhaps, just this once, he can allow himself to dream. It was the other, after all, who had reminded him that such a thing was still possible.    

[derelictdumbass]

OH HIT ME WITH SOME GAY SHIT “you could always come to my place, my door is always open.” 👀

Thank u bb, here's the gay shit as always 💕

Title: Come On Over

Ship: Lions Tigers and Bears Oh My!

Words: 1, 546

Dean sighed as he got out of his truck, leaning his whole body against the door to close it and letting himself stand there for a moment in silence. Groaning against the glass he pried himself off of the door and shuffled his way towards the spread eagle, he spotted Jerome walking out of his church as he did so and he offered a strained smile as the preacher waved him down.

"Good morning Dean," He greeted with far much too energy for Dean.

"Mornin' Jerome," He greets back, less enthusiastically but not less genuinely. The preacher chuckles as they meet by the front of the bar. Dean accepts the hug Jerome goes in for and sighs as the man's warmth seeps through his clothes.

"Someone did not get enough sleep last night," Jerome chuckles, rubbing Dean's back in a way that makes the brunette feel like he could just fall asleep in his friend's arms right there. Dean hums in response and just buries himself deeper into Jerome's chest, earning another laugh from him.

"You headed into the spread eagle or do you plan on staying out here all day?"

"Here sounds nice,"

Jerome shakes his head at Dean's jovial murmur, patting his shoulders as a signal for him to let go. Dean sighs and releases the preacher much to his dismay, pouting as Jerome takes to leading him into the spread eagle by his shoulder. He ruffles Dean's hair in an affectionate manner before walking over to greet Mary May, who waves at Dean before focusing on Jerome. 

Dean lazily waves back before turning to scan the patrons of the bar, his eyes lock with familiar grey ones that widen as he spots them and dart away quickly. Dean smiles as Marcus nervously stares down at his drink and begins to tap the wooden table with his middle finger. A lot of shyness fit into that giant teddy bear of a man and it was the most endearing thing Dean had ever seen.

A tired giggle leaves him as Marcus glances back up at him before darting away again this time more visibly flustered about being caught. Deciding not to let the older man suffer Dean walks over to where he was sat in the corner, right in front of the small stage. He slides into the seat across from Marcus easily and offers a warm smile as he does.

"Good morning farmer," 

Marcus chuckles at Dean's greeting, shaking his head gently and allowing his tense shoulders to relax.

"Good morning artist," 

Dean grins, crossing his arms on the table and resting his chin on his forearms. He lightly kicks Marcus' foot under the table and eyes the drink sat in front of him. It wasn't beer like one would assume seeing as they were in a bar, turns out Marcus didn't drink at all but he did enjoy being around people. Dean figured it was tea, something he'd spit out if he tried it himself.

"Are you alright?" Marcus asks gently when he notices Dean spacing out, eyes pointed in the direction of his glass but not really looking at it. The younger man hums for a moment, still repeatedly nudging his boot into Marcus' in a steady rhythm. 

"Just tired, didn't sleep." Dean shrugs, burying his face away into his arms as he's reminded of the heavy weight covering his body like a cloud. Maybe he should have tried to get some sleep in the morning but he had work to do and he also didn't want to miss seeing Marcus. Being a farmer meant his time was taken up a lot and Dean had come to figure out the times where he could catch him long enough for them to actually spend time together. 

You know, like he absolutely did for all of his friends and not just Marcus because that would imply something absolutely false. Totally.

"You can call me next time you have trouble sleeping you know, I've been told my voice puts a lot of people to sleep," Marcus says after a moment of silence, a small huff of a laugh at the end of his sentence as he tentatively takes hold of his glass. It's like he was hesitant to offer, which wasn't too unusual for him, he always seemed to really consider what he was saying when it came to Dean. He didn't want to cross any unspoken boundaries Dean guessed, even though he wouldn't mind if he did.

Dean lifts his head back up, burrowing his brows yet letting another smile stretch across his face. Marcus sips his drink, waiting to hear what Dean had to say. 

"That sounds mildly rude," Dean begins with a short laugh, "and i'll say yes but we both know I don't do phone calls," he finishes with another shrug. Marcus nods in understanding, he didn't entirely get the phone call aversion Dean had but he could respect it at least. Dean preferred texting, which was unfortunate as Marcus hated it. These in person meet ups were their happy medium and they both preferred them if they were being truthful.

"Okay fair enough, is there anything I can do to help?"

"I don't know, I kinda just end up laying there scrolling my phone so," Dean trails off and Marcus takes time to think on it again. He gently kicks Dean's foot right back as he scratches his beard, a small detail Dean found annoyingly adorable. Marcus stared down at the table, knowing he had trouble putting his thoughts together when having to look at Dean's puppy dog brown eyes.

Dean was delighted by the reciprocation of his lazy game of footsie, something anyone else would have probably gotten annoyed by rather than joined in. He happily let Marcus drift away in his thoughts, not in any rush himself.

"You could always come to my place, my door is always open." Marcus's invitation comes out carefully, his own face a little red despite the innocent nature of it. Dean hadn't been to his home before despite Marcus having visited Dean's once or twice and even then it was with James there as well.

"You sure?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it Dean,"

"Okay, just remember you said that when I show up at your house at three am," Dean says, leaning back in his chair and tapping the table with his fingertips. Marcus ducks his head for a moment, no doubt a bashful smile on his face and Dean bites down his own from splitting across his face. He fully intended to show up at his house at three am, if only to make a point. What point? He didn't know but he would make it.

"I'll get you a key,"

Dean's face flushed at the words matched with Marcus' playful smile, his light grey eyes wrinkling with the action and just making Dean's heart race. Stupid old man and his stupid pretty smile and pretty eyes. Dean had no idea how to respond, his limbs were begging to let loose their building energy but Dean kept a death grip on the table. 

"That's a horrible decision Marcus but I'm not about to stop you, especially because it'll make it easier to steal Marty," Dean replies, earning a laugh from Marcus. Marty was Marcus' very old and very cute jack russell, he used to help around the farm but now he spent his days enjoying belly rubs and napping absolutely anywhere. Dean loved that dog.

"What happened to joint custody?" Marcus asks, bringing his glass back up to his lips as Nadine ponders the thought.

"Is it really joint custody if you won't let me dress him up? I don't think so," Nadine says, pursing his lips comically and spreading out his hands as he leans forward in his chair.

"Dean. The last time you dressed him up he fell onto his side and wouldn't move,"

"Fair point."

The two both chuckled and fell into a moment of comfortable silence. The music and quiet chatter in the bar was admittedly pleasant, despite Dean's usual aversion to it, maybe it was because Marcus was there. Marcus made a lot of things more bearable.

"What are you doing today?" 

"Art. More art. I'm sure an existential crisis will fit in There somewhere, what about you?" Dean rolls his wrist as he lists off his plans, leaving out the gigantic nap he was planning on having as soon as he got home.

"Farming. More farming. Coming to help you out of your existential crisis probably," Marcus smiles and Dean once again curses him for being so charming. 

"Awe, that's sweet," He says in a teasing tone, all in attempts to hide how much he actually appreciated the sentiment.

"Wouldn't want to lose my favourite person to existential dread," Marcus says, his words are genuine despite the playful tone and he toys with his now empty glass. He was already dreading having to leave, knowing he could full well sit in the spread eagle with the other man for the entire day if possible. Unfortunately they both had their own work to do.

"I thought Dolly Parton was your favourite person,"

God. He was in bad.

"She comes close second,"

"Wow,"

[meliaaizawa]

STRAY CATS

Mei gets more used to cats.

Word count: 712

“Wait, what quiz are you doing??” Hizashi asked Oboro, who was on his phone. “It’s the ‘What Animal are You?’ quiz!!!” he answered, continuing to tap the answers to the questions. Hizashi moved closer to his friend and watched his screen while Meiya and Shota continued to eat their lunch, enjoying the warm sunshine and small breeze of spring as they all sat on the rooftop of U.A. “What the heck? That quiz was lame,” Obo said after finishing the quiz. “It said I was a wolf… I don’t think that fits me at all!” he added. “Well, it’s not too far off… I could see you as a dog, but probably more like… a golden retriever or something,” Mei suggested. “YOOO, BUT THAT TOTALLY MAKES SENSE!!!” Hizashi exclaimed.

Mei chuckled. “He’s always so happy and full of energy, loves people, is super huggable, and is loyal to his friends!” she explained. Oboro rubbed his chin as if he were thinking deeply. “I like that. And if you were an animal, I’d say you’d be a mouse! You’re smol, resourceful, and usually quiet… plus you’re a hard worker! Oh!! And you love cheese!!” Oboro explained. “Oh, oh, do me!!!” Hizashi pleaded. “Hmm… What do you think, Shota?” Obo asked, trying to get him to join the conversation. “Something loud and annoying,” Shota commented before taking a bite of his food. “Oh!! I’ve got it! A cockatoo!! They even have the same yellow hair that sticks up!” Mei said after a short silence. Obo and Hizashi both looked at each other in agreement, laughing at how accurate it was.

“Ok, that just leaves us with Shota!!” Hizashi said. “His is obvious… he’s a cat!! He’s moody and dislikes people but is nicer once you get to know him. Plus, he likes to sleep a lot!” Oboro suggested. “Trueeeee, and you like cats anyways, dontcha?” Hizashi asked his quiet, moody friend. Shota shrugged and replied, “sure,” to which Hizashi replied, “more like definitely!! I’ve totally seen you feeding stray cats before! You totally have a soft spot for your own kind!!!” Shota sighed and retorted, “how many cockatoos do you think have been killed by a cat?” with his eyebrows furrowed at his obnoxious friend. “Fair enough, I rest my case,” Hizashi said as Mei and Obo both chuckled.

The following day was Saturday, which meant freedom!! Oboro and Mei met each other so they could walk together to the arcade, where they were to meet their friends. As the two walked, Mei suddenly stopped at the faint sound of a “meow” coming from an alleyway. As she looked down, she saw a small black cat appear from the darkness, looking up at her. Mei reached into her bag and pulled out a small, dried fish, and fed it to the cat. The two friends continued to walk, but had to stop after a block or so, because Mei pulled out another fish to feed yet another stray cat that approached them.

Though they walked in silence, Mei could feel the ever-growing smug smile of her friend beside her, to the point where she couldn’t ignore it anymore. “Ok… what are you looking so smug about?” she asked, already knowing what he was probably going to say. “Oh, just you feeding and taking care of all the neighborhood cats,” he said, smugness seeping through his words. “What about it?” she asked. “You’ve always hated cats,” Obo replied. “’Hated’ is a strong word,” she retorted. “It’s because they remind you of Shota, huh??” he asked, grinning from ear-to-ear. “I just don’t want them to kill all the cute mice,” she said, trying not to act flustered as his insinuations.

Oboro chuckled and replied, “y’know I never thought I’d see the day when you’d like a guy so much that it would counter your dislike for cats!! But at the same time, I can’t say that I’m terribly surprised!!” “I mean, it’s not like they’re my favorite animal now or anything,” Mei defended herself. “Oh, yeah right!! Just wait until your crush on Shota grows stronger… before you know it, you’ll own two cats and will wanting to get more!!” he teased. Mei rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Ha, I don’t think it’ll ever get to that point,” she scoffed.

[marvels-writings]

Rumor Has It (6)

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Series Masterlist

Carol Danvers Masterlist

WARNING: shooting, death scene, blood, im sorry about that

A/N: I still don’t have the heart to end Phoenix and the Stars, it’s like ending the pretend series and I do not have the heart to do that right now. 

The rest of the next day was spent planning the mission out, the plan was pretty simple. Both of you go in, sweet talk your way into the arms dealer, you make an excuse to go to the bathroom but go back into the club and force them to evacuate it while Carol blows the arms up, no one gets hurt and you bring the arms dealer in. You took a spare gun and a few magazines with a thigh holster. 

“So we’re clear on the plan?” Carol asked for the fiftieth time while she finished putting on her makeup, you’d finally managed to teach her after an hour of flustering and struggling.

“For the last time, yes.” You groaned, finishing your makeup and going to change while Carol changed in the room. 

You wore a lace black halter top, a black leather skirt which was roomy enough for your thigh holster, black heels which had a few knives. None of which would be detected by any arms/weapon detectors. 

Carol wore a black v neck long sleeved top with gold striped and black, boot cut leather pants and butch black leather boots with it. She didn’t need any weapons but put an extra knife in her boot in case you would need it. 

After getting ready, you put on a golden bracelet that would call backup incase you needed it, it was discreet and you felt a little more secure with it. Finally, you made your way out of the hotel and to the club. 

“How the hell did you get this?” Carol asked, admiring the limousine parked in the front waiting for you two, you grinned  in response. 

“Maria called before asking if we needed anything, so I told her we needed a fancy ride instead of a taxi.” You winked, walking ahead of Carol as the driver opened the door for you, you slid in as Carol followed you closely. 

“The driver?” Carol whispered as the chauffeur closed the door and walked around the car to get in the car.

“Verified.” You answered, smiling at the chauffeur when he came in and giving him the address, telling him not to wait outside instead come back if he was called again, he nodded and said it was about a 30 minute drive. 

Carol switched on the soundproof window that separates you from the driver after you were done, the window had the SHIELD logo on it but you frowned, not knowing why she needed the privacy. 

“Have you ever killed anyone?” She asked bluntly, your eyes widened and you leaned back slightly. 

“Well that’s a bit blunt.” You thought aloud, hand falling to your thigh holster on instinct. 

“I need to know,” Carol stated, also leaning back but hazel eyes still piercing your own. “This might end in a shootout, these dealers aren’t known to play nice. So, have you ever killed anyone?” Carol asked again.

“No, never seen the need to.” You stated, then explained a bit further when you saw Carol’s eyes narrow in confusion. “My partner usually did the killing, Fury and Maria usually spared me from the massacre missions. I’m more of a spy than a soldier, plus, never needed to kill for anyone.”

“Alright, can you?” Carol asked, pushing a bit further than she needed to. 

“I’m a SHIELD operative, I know how to kill people or save their lives.” You answered coolly, Carol’s words sinking in slightly. You’d never needed to kill someone, you weren’t sure if you had it in you to kill someone. 

You settled into a comfortable silence, you were still tense, you’d never taken another person’s life, only hurt them when you needed to. But taking away someone’s life was something you weren’t sure you could do, you thought about it on the entire way to the club. 

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

The club was loud, way too loud to hear anyone who wasn’t shouting. There wer neon lights everywhere but the club itself was still dark, the bar had neon lights under the counter, it was the only place where you could actually see what you were doing. 

The entire place reeked of alcohol and sweat from the people dancing. Your target was easy to find once you got into the club, he was lounging on one of the white couches on the second floor, protected by guards and surrounded by other arms dealers. 

“So you know we are serious.” Carol stated after sitting down, crossing one leg over another and resting both arms on the armrest, voice dominating the atmosphere. 

“That I do.” The man answered, leaning forwards as his all black suit crumpled slightly. 

“How much are you willing to pay?” he asked, waitresses coming over to offer you and Carol drinks, she took a neat whiskey and you took fav/alcoholic/drink. 

“Whatever you want.” You answered, sipping the drink while your eyes flickered around the club. 

“We’re well funded.” Carol said, you almost facepalmed. You were supposed to be mob bosses, mob bosses aren’t funded for christ’s sake. 

“In the sense we have as much money you would need for the lists.” You covered up, the dealer raised an eyebrow and whispered something to one of the guards next to him, you shot Carol a quick glare but covered it up quickly. 

“Well, then I might as well show you what we have.” he said with a smile, beckoning you to follow him. 

Carol gave you a nod, you rolled your eyes at her and asked where the bathroom was, saying you’ll join them later. The dealer indicated where the bathroom was and where he would be waiting for you with Carol.

Carol followed the man to some deeper part of the club while you pretended to go to the bathroom, instead going to the bar and telling the bartender to evacuate, he ignored it. 

Until gunshots were heard, everyone started sprinting out of the club, not caring what they left behind. You groaned, helping anyone who was drunk out the door, gunshots continued but you heard blasts at the same time, you assumed it was Carol. By the time you’d finishing everyone who didn’t have a gun out the door, the blasts had stopped. 

After taking the gun out of your purse and tucking the magazines in your thigh holster, you made your way to the dealing, finding men in dark suits everywhere, probably knocked out by Carol. Against the far wall, Carol was slumped against the wall, hand cradling a dark wound that started to spread on her side. 

“Shit,” You muttered, starting to run over when a shot at your feet stopped you, your eyes snapped to where the shot had come from. It was the main dealer, he wiped dirt off his face and held his gun towards Carol.

“Shoot, and she dies.” He threatened, you started panicking, Carol looked at you, trying to hide the desperation in her eyes, your breathing quickened slightly, knowing you had to pull the trigger as Carol’s blood dripped onto the ground. 

She shot a quick blast to his gun, knocking it to the floor, you knew she didn’t have enough energy to take him down. You shot him when he bent down to pick the gun up, his body falling to the ground instantly as blood seeped out from his chest. 

His dead eyes looked at you as you ran over to Carol, trying to stop your heart racing and all the emotions in your mind when you saw a bullet wound in Carol’s side. It wasn’t the worst, it was small, easy to stop. You took the ties of one of the men nearest to you which Carol had knocked out and put it against the bleeding, the tie turning a dark blue instantly. 

“What the fuck happened?” You demanded, hands trembling as you continued putting pressure onto the wound, avoiding eye contact with anyone. 

“They got the jump on me when you left.” Carol groaned against the pain of the wound, hand coming to hold yours to press down on the wound. “I’m sorry.” She apologized, trying to make eye contact with you but you avoided it, your attention on the approaching footsteps. 

You were losing all of the composure you’d built up, the way you were acting now was out of pure panic and concern, not at all the way you were acting before. It was like the cool, aloof person melted and this was you, concerned for the woman you’d learned to care for, you needed her alive.

“We should call backup.” You gasped, tapping the pearl on your bracelet twice, it started a timer for 8 minutes, it was supposed to be 5. 

“Just hold on for me okay?” You whispered, quickly leaning forward to kiss her forehead, flustering Carol and stunning you at the action. You were more panicked when you got up, holding the gun with both trembling hands and pointing it at the door. 

The men that came in first saw your gun and put their guns up, ready to shoot, you shot them in the leg or in the shoulder, trying to avoid anything that would kill them. There were about 3 men in total, you had to pull out the gun from your thigh holster to shoot them. 

Carol sat there in shock, you said you’d never killed anyone, and here you were, killing because her life depended on it. The rumors about couldn’t be more wrong, you weren’t callous, all of the killing and hurting was dragging on you, she could see it in the way your hands didn’t stop trembling and the way you always flinched when pulling the trigger, and how you didn’t kill anyone, just stopped them from getting further. 

You finally stopped when they were on the ground, groaning. You stepped over them and took all their guns with shaky hands and without saying a word, staring at the bracelet the entire time. It said about 1 minute until backup was here. With a clenched jaw, you made your way over to Carol. 

“They aren’t dead, they won’t bleed out.” You stated, more for yourself than her. 

“Okay.” Carol said softly, letting you help her up. 

You took almost all her weight while walking over the men on your way out of the bar, the neon lights gave some lighting for you to see where the door was, by the time you made it there, Maria was standing with her hands on her hips, expecting some sort of explanation. 

“What-” She began, pausing when she saw Carol’s current state and sighed, knowing she was more important to you now than anything, she had seen how you acted when someone on your team got hurt, you always blamed yourself. 

“Get her on the jet.” Maria commanded the team behind her, you nodded meekly, refusing to let anyone else help you while you walked past Maria, carrying Carol. 

After getting on the jet, you didn’t say a word as the medics checked you for any injuries before helping Carol, you sat by her side, watching the medics patch her up, you knew taking out the bullet would hurt. You reached out to comfort Carol by resting your hand on her forearm, she took your hand instead, squeezing lightly and looking at you with a soft smile, trying to tell you everything was going to be okay .

Maybe it was, you thought as Carol gave Maria the disk with all of HYDRA’s allies before getting the bullet taken out of her while stroking your hand, maybe everything would be okay. 

| Part 7 |

A/N: Sorry this chapter was so angsty, but like the next part is gonna be the fluffiest thing I’ve written in awhile, still angsty tho, feedback is amazing, thanks!

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @5aftermidnight, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart​  , @duvetsandpillows​ , @ohfuckno​ , @justarandomhumanhere​ , let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

[lizzzybooo]

Your Mess Is Mine

Summary: “I know what you’re thinking,” he said with a serious tone, catching Dan off guard.

“Do you?” honestly, it wasn’t that hard to guess.

“Yes. You’re thinking that this hat totally clashes with everything else I’m wearing, and you’re not wrong.” He was looking at Dan with round, shiny eyes. Dan blinked at him a few times, dumbstruck.

——————————— A university!au where Dan is a third year student dealing with demons from his past, and Phil is the peculiar guy from his Greek mythology class who he just can’t quite get out of his mind.

warnings: mention of suicide (not discussed in detail), Minor Character Death

read on ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12640926/chapters/56116090

also check out the amazing art @ninapons made for this fic!! hereand here and here

chapter 15

words for this chapter : 5k 

total word count:  58409

notes: so... yeah haha i’m back! sorry for the (unreasonably long) wait guys, i hope some of you are still interested in this story ^.^ a huge thank you to @honeywreath for the moral support <3 she’s as aweet as they get <333 also as i’m really nervous posting this, i would really appreciate your feedback, so please tell me what you think! and... hope you like it lol 

read last chapter here

start at the beginning

For the first time in his life, Dan was grateful for exam season.

The days went by in a blur, meshing together while he was trying to focus all his energy on studying and passing his exams, instead of his unanswered calls and messages.

Ezra was finally back from the holidays, dividing his time between their dorm room and the library (as it turned out, Ezra’s uncle refused to take him back to work at the shop, even with his mother’s insistence, so Ezra was still out of a job and apparently pretty stressed about the whole thing).

Dan found that he actually preferred the times they were both in their room together to the times when Ezra would disappear to the library to study. Ezra wasn’t big on conversations, and honestly they didn’t have a lot in common either way, but even so, having a constant presence of someone familiar next to him brought Dan a surprising amount of relief. Ezra was constantly making some kind of noise, clicking his tongue or sighing loudly when he couldn’t get something right, filling the room with sounds and liveliness. And even though it used to drive Dan crazy, he started taking comfort in those sounds, in the knowledge that someone else was present in the room with him, welcoming the distraction. (Dan briefly wondered if it was a result of Phil’s never ending chatter that made him suddenly uncomfortable with silence, but he pushed the thought away quickly, not liking the way it made his heart clench painfully).

After a few days of feeling uneasy every time he was left alone in their room, Dan even started following Ezra to the library whenever he went (a fact that made Ezra unbelievably flustered and surprised the first few times, before getting used to the new arrangement). As it turned out, Ezra (like Dan) didn’t have a thriving social life, and more often than not spent his time studying by himself, so Dan didn’t really feel bad for intruding.

They studied next to each other in silence, each of them focused on their own laptop and books, and sometimes, when they both needed a break and a change in scenery, even went out to eat lunch together or drink coffee (though Ezra always stuck to tea, mumbling how coffee wasn’t good for his still growing body).

They usually sat opposite each other in the campus cafeteria, sharing the occasional word, but mostly Ezra kept his nose stuck in one of his textbooks, mumbling to himself, while Dan just stared at him absentmindedly, drinking his coffee or eating his sandwich.

It was on one of those coffee breaks that Dan noticed, to his surprise, that Ezra was actually quite handsome. It was an odd thought that popped into his mind suddenly, and it made Dan feel a little embarrassed, a little ashamed, that he never considered Ezra anything close to handsome before. If he was being honest with himself, Ezra’s odd personality and awkward behavior never let Dan look at him as anything other than his strange roommate.

But, he had to admit, Ezra was actually pretty good looking. Not in a flashy way, no- Dan didn’t think he would have noticed him or payed any extra attention to him if they have met somewhere outside their small dorm room (even if he didn’t know about his weird Beethoven obsession.) But even so, he had a nice, quiet kind of appeal to him.

He was two years younger than Dan, 19, and his face was still pretty boyish and soft (not unlike his own). He wasn’t as tall as Dan, but he definitely wasn’t short, and Dan had to admit his hazel eyes had a nice, cat like shape to them that he quite liked.

“You should get a different haircut,” Dan told him out of the blue, making him lift up his eyes and look at him in surprise.

“Excuse me?”

“Your hair, I think you should try having it a little longer, it would suit your face.”

Ezra was staring at him with wide eyes, pink coloring his freckled cheeks. Definitely cute, Dan thought.

“I always had it like this,” he said, his hand subconsciously moving up to the top of his head, petting his short trimmed hair.

Dan smiled, amused. “Of course you had,” he said, laughing when Ezra turned his face from him in annoyance, always quick to get offended by Dan’s teasing. “You have a pretty face though, I think longer hair would look good on you, but there’s nothing wrong with the way it is now,” he tried to say reassuringly, stopping himself from laughing more when Ezra’s face became unbelievably red and his eyes blew even wider.

“I don’t have a- a pretty face!” he protested, as if Dan threw an insult his way instead of paying him a compliment.

“Just my opinion mate,” Dan said, raising his hands in surrender, watching in amusement the way Ezra was avoiding his eyes pointedly.

He was quiet for a minute, looking stubbornly at his textbook before finally peeking at Dan. “You actually think I have a pretty face?” he asked, sounding suspicious and a little accusing, and all Dan could do to ignore that little painful pinch of Deja vu was nod. (Phil’s sweet, timid voice, asking him “do you think I’m cute?” while sitting on top of him, face pink but eyes a little mischievous, was the last thing he wanted to think about at that moment.)

“I do,” he confirmed, taking another sip from his coffee mug.

Ezra looked conflicted for a moment, looking between his book and Dan. “But… don’t you have a boyfriend?” he asked.

Dan almost choked on his coffee, coughing awkwardly. “I do,” he said, ignoring the way his heart dropped to his stomach at the mere thought of Phil being called his boyfriend. they were still together, Dan told himself, even if Phil was ignoring him, he was (almost) sure of that. “I wasn’t… hitting on you,” he said carefully, feeling his own cheeks heat up.

“Oh, of course!” Ezra said, looking so embarrassed Dan genuinely felt bad, trying to think of something to say to make the mortified expression on Ezra’s face disappear. He wasn’t sure how many people had ever expressed any interest in Ezra, and he was generally a pretty awkward guy, so really, he couldn’t blame him for jumping to this kind of conclusion, as unlikely as it may seem to Dan.

Also, Dan thought, maybe his comment wasn’t as casual as he thought. Maybe he actually said something weird. Maybe, he thought, a little horrified, after spending all his time with Phil and Martyn, he started to forget what was actually socially acceptable to say to a person you’re not all that close with.

Before he had the chance to say anything though, Ezra continued, his cheeks still red and his voice a little nervous. “It’s just that… you’ve been spending all your time with me since I came back. I don’t even have to tell you to stop talking on your phone at night anymore, so I thought maybe you guys, you know, broke up.”

Dan had the immediate desire to loudly protest. To defend his relationship, to get angry at Ezra for assuming. But he caught himself in time, taking a big breath. Truthfully, he himself wasn’t sure what was going on between him and Phil.

Dan felt like since Christmas, they’ve made a huge progress in their relationship. They talked openly about their lives and past, they expressed desire to have each other in their futures and Dan was serious in his conversation with Phil’s dad, he wanted to be there for Phil, always, to support him and make him happy. He wanted to trust him and trust their bond, but still, it was hard to do when he couldn’t stop the feeling of rejection from seeping into his body.

It hurt, to put it simply. It hurt and it frustrated Dan to no end and it made him a little angry. He gave Phil every reason to trust him, he gave him all that he could, more than he ever gave anyone before, and even though he wanted to be understanding, wanted to give Phil his space, he also wanted to get some kind of a sign. A sign that even in all this, Phil was still thinking of him too, that Phil could trust him with his grief, that they could share each other’s misfortunes instead of hiding away. That Dan wasn’t wrong in assuming they both felt the same way about each other.

More than anything though, Dan knew, even if he was more than a little irritated, that what he really wanted was to hold Phil and comfort him and be there for him. It made his heart ache to know that when Phil was at his lowest, it wasn’t Dan’s company that he sought out. It made him frustrated, upset, that when he finally decided to give himself to someone again, to give Phil all he could, Phil was pulling away with no warning. It made his heart ache, because he knew all too well what the possible result of not being trusted enough with another person’s pain could lead to, and even though he knew he was projecting, he couldn’t make his mind stop spinning with these thoughts.

Was he really that untrustworthy? Was he really someone the people closest to him couldn’t rely on?

“He’s going through some family stuff right now, but we’re still together,” Dan said, a little sharply. He definitely didn’t want to open the subject up for discussion.

“Oh,” Ezra said, looking back at his book “okay then.” He tried to regain his composure, but his cheeks were still pink and Dan knew he was extremely uncomfortable with the whole situation. Even so, he didn’t say anything else, letting Dan finish his coffee before returning with him to the library.

That night, when Dan couldn’t fall asleep, he put on a compilation of Beethoven’s finest for the second time since starting to live with Ezra, playing it loudly on his laptop speakers, ignoring the sparkle of hazel eyes staring at him from the other side of the dark room.

He lied back down on his bed, turned around to face the wall. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, his tone coming out more annoyed than he intended, and he cursed himself quietly.

To his surprise, he heard an unfamiliar chuckle coming out from the other’s bed, a soft airy sound that Dan was pretty sure he’d never heard Ezra make before. “I won’t,” he said, before Dan let himself close his eyes and let his mind be filled with the music, trying to push the intrusive thoughts away.

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

Phil didn’t turn up to their Greek Mythology exam. Dan scanned the exam hall 3 times, his eyes shooting up to the entrance door every time a new student walked in, but he couldn’t spot the familiar blue eyes and black hair anywhere.

He had to finally give up, a sour taste in his mouth, when the doors where closed and the exam started, leaving his mind desperately trying to focus on the questions before him while his chest was clenching uncomfortably.

He got up from his seat half an hour before the time was up, knowing full well his answers were just good enough to pass the exam and nothing more. He ignored the misplaced envious glances from the other students and quickly got out the door, leaning against the nearest wall, trying to calm his heart down.

Phil wasn’t Oliver. He told himself. He wasn’t he wasn’t he wasn’t.

Dan had to trust him to be okay, he had to. Not because he was sure of it, no, but because at that point, there was nothing else he could do.

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

Two week into January Dan got a phone call from Ezra. It was one of the rare times Dan wanted to be by himself, deciding to go walk around town one evening to buy some stuff he told himself he desperately needed for no other reason other than to distract himself.

He was desperately clinging to his exams, going to the library with Ezra and searching the campus hopefully whenever he was there. Neither Phil nor Martyn were answering his calls and texts, and when he tried going to their apartment one time, it seemed that nobody was even there. He wanted to respect their wishes to be left alone with their mourning, and he didn’t want to intrude, but he just needed, so badly, to know they were okay.

His chest was in a constant state of a dull ache, his mind hazy from useless exam information and worry, but he had to admit, walking around from shop to shop in the chilly January air was making him feel surprisingly better.

He was sitting in a coffee shop, looking outside the window and observing the people walking by while eating his lunch when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Without his permission, his heart leaped in his chest in expectation. No one aside from Phil, and occasionally his mother, ever called him (and since he had an awkward, six minute talk with his mother the day before that consisted of him avoiding all her questions and telling her he was too busy studying, he was pretty sure it couldn’t be her).

But when he took out his phone and saw Ezra’s caller ID, he couldn’t mask his disappointment, even though he wasn’t really expecting Phil to call him at this point.

“Hello? Dan?” Ezra said the minute Dan picked up the call, sounding hesitant and urgent at the same time, making Dan’s heart speed up again in expectation.

“What’s up?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but something in Ezra’s voice was making him feel on edge, making him start to pick up his things absentmindedly, not bothering finishing his half full cup of coffee. Somehow, he had a feeling what this was about.

“Hmm, I’m outside our room right now, and your, uh, Phil, came here a few minutes ago. I told him that you’re out but he insisted on waiting for you, so he’s inside now, I hope that’s okay.”

Dan was already outside the coffee shop when Ezra finished his sentence, feeling his heart beating loudly in his chest, making his way quickly to the bus stop. “Yeah, that’s okay. Thank you, I’m on my way back now,” he said, not able to mask his urgency. “Can you just… can you make sure he doesn’t leave before I get there?” he added.

Ezra let out a distress noise. “He, uh, doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere,” he said, sounding so uncomfortable from the whole situation that Dan even started to feel bad for him.

“What do you mean?”

“He just… he looks like he’s planning to stay here, until you come, at least.”

Ezra’s vague answer did nothing but put Dan even more on edge. “Just… stay there, please, until I get back. I’ll be there soon,” Dan said, before hanging up the phone, not letting Ezra have a chance to respond.

Dan wasn’t sure what to think. A mixture of relief, confusion and anger was swirling in his stomach, making him feel a little car sick on the bus ride back. Logically, Dan knew he shouldn’t be that upset. It was only two weeks. Two weeks after a big, heartbreaking loss, and if Phil wanted to take a step back and be by himself a little, to proses, how could Dan hold it against him?

But still. The radio silence from both Phil and Martyn, Phil not showing up for his exam, practically disappearing completely… could anyone really blame him for finding it alarming? Dan knew, better than most people, that he had no way of knowing what people actually think. What they would actually do. He felt powerless and terrified, so even though he understood, he couldn’t blame himself for the way his palms were sweating with nerves, his heart racing in his chest, his stomach filling with angry, fluttering butterflies he couldn’t force to calm down.

He couldn’t blame himself for feeling the strange combination of longing and bitterness settle in his guts. He wanted an explanation, maybe almost as much as he wanted to hold Phil in his arm again.

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

When Dan got to his dorm room he didn’t quite know what to expect, but still, the scene in front of him managed to catch him by surprise.

Ezra was standing awkwardly at his side of the room, watching Dan’s bed with carful, uncertain eyes. On Dan’s bed there was a big, human size lump under the covers, showing no signs of movement nor letting out any kind of sound.

Dan felt his heart clench at the unmistakable sight of Phil, curled up hiding under the blankets. He felt weirdly uncomfortable, awkward, not knowing how to approach this silent version of Phil after two weeks of chasing any kind of communication.

“Phil?” he tried saying, legs stuck to their place by the door, heart speeding up at the lack of answer. The slight movement under the covers was the only indication Phil was actually there, acknowledging Dan’s presence.

Dan felt something tight in his stomach loosening, just a bit. It’s fine, he’s here, he’s fine, he told himself, finally finding the will to move his legs and approach the bed.

He sat down at the edge, carefully and slowly, as if we was approaching a scared animal and not his boyfriend he hadn’t seen in two weeks, gently laying his hand on where he assumed Phil’s shoulder was.

“Phil,” he tried again, voice soft and a little pleading, sliding his hand up the blanket, moving it a bit to reveal the top of Phil’s head.

Phil was still silent, but he moved to curl around himself even more, trying to hide his head under the covers again.

“Phil,” Dan leaned down, his upper body covering Phil, mouth near his hidden ear.

There was silence again for a moment, but just when Dan was about to actually start panicking, Phil finally spoke.

“Do you hate me?”

His voice was small, sad, muffled by the pillow and blanket, but even so, just hearing it sent something sharp and quick through Dan’s chest. Something like longing, and want, and relief.

“No,” he answered, pressing himself even closer to Phil, who was still clinging to the blanket like it was the only thing that could protect him from Dan’s wrath. Dan wanted to laugh, almost as much as he wanted to cry. As if he could ever want to do anything other than hold Phil close and cherish him. As if Dan could ever actually hate him.

“Are you mad?” Phil asked, voice a little stronger, wiggling a little under Dan’s weight.

“A little,” Dan answered honestly. He was, and he didn’t want to hide that from Phil. He was mad and hurt and confused, and he wanted Phil to know that. He needed Phil to understand that even though he could never hate him, he was still upset about being left behind, being left to worry and speculate.

“I mostly worried about you,” he added, when Phil stayed silent, and then when he was sure Phil won’t flinch away anymore, he reached his hand to the visible top of Phil’s head, tugging on his hair.

There was a sudden movement under the blankets and before Dan could register what was happening, Phil was turning around under him, throwing himself on Dan’s lap, arms squeezing Dan’s waist tightly.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” he said against Dan’s stomach, voice muffled and watery. Dan let out a shaky breath, letting his hands settle on Phil’s shoulders, rubbing them soothingly.

“Um,” Dan almost jumped at the sudden sound coming from the other side of the room, turning his head to look at Ezra (who he completely forgot about), still standing in the corner of the room, looking extremely uncomfortable. Dan’s hold on Phil’s shoulders tightened instinctively, afraid that the reminder of the presence of someone else in the room would make him retreat again. But Phil didn’t respond to the sound at all, staying still, curled around Dan’s middle.

“I, eh, can go out for a bit,” Ezra said, rubbing his neck awkwardly. Dan was suddenly filled with gratitude towards his odd, kind roommate, who tolerated his moping and company and moods, and stayed in the room until Dan got there as he asked, even though it clearly made him uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” Dan said, softly, smiling at Ezra and making him flush bright red in response. Ezra nodded once, before moving from his spot by the wall to put on his shoes and quietly exit the room.

Dan let his attention go back to Phil, who was silently clinging to him and giving no signs of letting go any time soon. “I’m sorry,” Phil said again, a little more clearly, lifting his face a little to look at him, chin digging uncomfortably into Dan’s stomach.

His face was pale, even paler than usual, and his eyes were pink and wet behind his glasses even though he didn’t cry. He looked… tired, devastated, uncertain. And Dan was once again overwhelmed by the need to take all the pain away for him, to somehow make it all better.

“I know,” he said quietly, hand moving from Phil’s shoulder to his head, pushing his messy hair back. He wanted to say “it’s okay,” or, “you don’t have to be,” but he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie. It wasn’t okay, and Phil should be sorry, at least a little, for leaving Dan like he did. For making him sick with worry and speculation, for making him relive his biggest fears and insecurities.

“I was really scared,” he said instead, surprised to find his voice thick and tight with emotion. “I didn’t know where you were,” his throat felt like it was closing up around the words, making everything inside him burn painfully. “I wanted to respect your grief and I wanted to give you your time but I was so scared that… that-“ he couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t say it out loud. Two weeks of anxiety and loneliness and fear where catching up to him all at once, and it was too much for him to take after refusing to let himself think about it, trying to stop his mind from wandering into forbidden territories.

Phil moved urgently then, sitting up in front of Dan on his knees, eyes big and blue and regretful. He reached out with both his hands, cupping Dan’s cheeks, thumbs brushing the wetness Dan didn’t even realize was leaking out of his eyes. The cold, soft hands felt so familiar against his warm skin and Dan found himself leaning into the touch.

“Dan,” he said, and his voice was so pained it made Dan’s inside feel even tighter. “I would never do that to you.” Dan gave a small sound of protest, before he could stop himself, and Phil shook his head, leaning closer and pressing their foreheads together. “I know you hate when I say things like that, I’m sorry. But I wouldn’t I wouldn’t.” Phil was crying too now, fat tears running down his tired face, “I wouldn’t.”

“Okay,” Dan said, because he didn’t know what else to say, and wasn’t sure he could even produce a longer answer with the burning pain in his throat.

Phil let his hands slide down to Dan’s neck, pressing his face closer to him, nuzzling his cheek. Dan felt his own arms wrap around Phil’s waist instinctively, without his permission, holding him close.

“I needed… I don’t know exactly what I needed, I’m sorry.” Phil said against his cheek, quietly, softly, ”but I love you too much Dan, I love you, I would always want to come back to you.” Dan’s heart was beating loudly in his chest, Phil’s words screaming in his head. I love you I love you. It was so typical of Phil, to just say it like that, straightforward and honest.

“that is… if you still want me, of course,” Phil said, letting his hands fall down from Dan’s neck and scooting back a little to look him in the eyes, looking like he was genuinely scared to hear Dan’s answer. As if there was any way Dan wouldn’t want him anymore.

“I do, I do, of course I do,” Dan found himself say urgently, desperately, leaning closer and kissing Phil’s forehead and cheeks and eyelids. “You idiot, as if I would not.” Phil giggled at that, small and wet and a little sad, but Dan could feel his entire body fill with warmth at the sound.

“I just… please, just let me be there, for you, with you. That’s all I want, for you to let me be there, don’t leave me in the dark like that,” he said, clutching Phil’s sides tightly. “I know, I know I’m not good for a lot, but I’ll do anything for you, if you let me. Please trust me a little more, to be there.” He could feel the vague feeling of embarrassment, making his stomach flutter uncomfortably. It was still new to him, saying things so honestly, so openly, but Dan figured they needed a little honesty right now. Needed to put their cards on the table and hearts on their sleeves and tell each other what they wanted.

Phil shook his head in protest, “you’re good, you’re good,” he said, hands moving back to Dan’s face “you’re so, so good.” Phil leaned in, but stopped himself before his lips touched Dan’s. “Can I? Or, I mean-“

Dan didn’t let him finish, closing the space between them. Phil’s lips where unusually dry and chapped, and they both tasted salty from their tears, but it still made everything inside Dan’s body melt with relief. They kept it sweet, not pushing for more, and when Phil pulled away and pressed his forehead against Dan’s lips, demanding as always, Dan kissed the skin almost giddily, pulling Phil impossibly closer against his body.

“I’m so tired,” Phil said, leaning all his weight on Dan’s body, like all his energy drained out of him at that moment, all at once.

“You want me to take you home?” Dan asked, rubbing soothing circles on Phil’s back. There was still a lot to say, a lot to ask and a lot to understand. But it could wait. Right now, he just needed to worry about Phil. he just needed to take care of him, as much as he’ll let him.

Phil shook his head, pressing closer to Dan. “No, please, just… let me stay here, just tonight. Tomorrow we’ll do whatever you want, we’ll talk about whatever you want, but I can’t go back there right now.”

“Yeah... that’s… okay,” he couldn’t help but think about poor Ezra coming back to the room later to find him and Phil sleeping there in the same bed, the poor guy would probably combust on the spot. But he couldn’t say no to Phil. Not when he was like this, not when he knew how hard it was to be surrounded by all the things that remind you of your loss.

They moved to make themselves comfortable under the covers, not bothering to change clothes or turn off the light. It was probably not later than nine, but Dan could already see Phil’s eyelids dropping as he took off his glasses and put them on the nightstand. Dan felt too full of nervous energy to sleep, but he wanted nothing more than to lay there together, with Phil in his arms, for as long as he wanted him to.

Phil laid his head on Dan’s chest, cuddling close, letting himself be wrapped in Dan’s embrace.

“Hold me tighter,” he mumbled, and Dan couldn’t help but laugh, tightening his hold.

“Better?” he asked, but only got a soft hum in response, and then nothing. Dan lay there quietly, listening to Phil’s breath as he fell asleep. He still felt a little uneasy, a little on edge, but he supposed, for now, this was good enough.

Ezra came back to the room about 40 minutes later, when Dan was just starting to doze off. He opened the door quietly, carefully, his eyes scanning the room and landing on Dan’s bed. He averted his gaze immediately, face flushing bright red, still standing at by the door.

“Sorry,” Dan said, trying not to wake Phil up, feeling genuinely bad for making Ezra uncomfortable. “It’s just for tonight, he had nowhere else to go.” It wasn’t really the truth, but it was easier to put it like that, in hopes that Ezra would understand.

“It’s fine,” Ezra said, moving into the room and not looking at Dan’s direction. Dan wasn’t sure it was really fine, but he had no choice but to take it, hoping he could make it up to him at some point.

“Thank you, really,” Dan said quietly, trying to convey how actually grateful he was. Ezra’s face became an even brighter shade of red, if possible. He moved to lay down on his own bed, over the covers, back facing Dan.

They were silent for a few moments before Ezra spoke again. “Are you guys okay now?” he asked voice a little muffled against his pillow, catching Dan by surprise.

Dan looked down at Phil’s sleeping face, lips parted and a little bit of drool smeared against the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said, feeling all his different emotions swirling in his head, making him dizzy. “We will be.”

[ahwuum]

If you're looking to do Jerevin, how about 45? That could have some good angst

Okay, no lie I deleted this 2 SEPARATE TIMES ACCIDENTALLY!! God I’m an idiot.

45 - “Please don’t shut me out.”

See, now none of their heists ever go as planned, there’s always something that goes wrong, miscommunication, bad timing or a stupid fumble; but usually things don’t go this wrong.

Michael’s got a bullet in his shoulder, Ryan kneeling over him and applying pressure on the wound with shaky hands as the van swerves violently under Jack’s panicked driving, guided by Gavin’s equally panicked voice in the comms.

And Jeremy’s no better than Michael (not with that stab to the gut he got as soon as everything started popping off) but the guys don’t exactly know that.

‘Cause see, Gavin’s already flustered by Michael’s injury, already making small mistakes, missing police cars and taking them down the wrong streets, the last thing he needs right now is to find out that Jeremy’s injured too.

He’s doing a shit job of hiding it though. If Michael wasn’t literally bleeding out, Geoff wasn’t passed out in the passenger seat with a dislocated shoulder and a black eye, and Jack wasn’t dealing with fucking roadblocks, Gavin, you were supposed to be watching the police-

Well, they would have noticed immediately from the blood dripping down onto the floor and Jeremy’s hands pressed against the wound like he’s trying to keep his guts from falling out onto the floor. He’s completely unsubtle.

But, they don’t notice, too caught up in more important things, exactly like Jeremy wants, no one wasting their energy worrying about him.

And then Jack yanks on the wheel and the van veers violently left, tyres squealing as the sound of metal scraping against metal fills his ears—the van scraping against the side of a fucking building— and the nausea and numbness start to slowly seep in, his vision swimming and head pounding.

He’s fighting just to keep himself in his seat with Jack’s driving, so it’s not exactly easy to keep the pressure on his wound, try not to throw up all over the floor or pass the fuck out.

Which means he doesn’t; one minute his eyes are open and he feels himself starting to slip off the seat and the next-

Well, he’s back at the safehouse.

For a moment he’s confused, doesn’t register where he is, why he’s in a nice, soft bed when he should be in the back of the van, but then… He sees Gavin sitting at the end of the bed and he pieces the rest of it together.

The first thing he notices is how still Gavin is.

When he’d decided not to tell anyone about the guy that stabbed him, he accepted the fact that he was probably going to get yelled at for it, that Gavin would cry and tell him never to do that again, that he’d be so angry.

But he’s completely still, completely silent.

It’s disarming; this casual indifference. All Jeremy can suddenly think is that Gavin doesn’t really care, doesn’t care that Jeremy hid an injury from them, that he lied, probably worried that he’d die, but a sort of worry that comes from a fellow crewmember, not-

Not a boyfriend.

“Gav.” Jeremy calls out, pushing himself up onto his elbows with no small amount of effort and ignoring the searing pain in his stomach from the movement.“Don’t, you’ll pop a stitch.” Gavin says, at his side immediately and pushing him  down until Jeremy’s on his back again. His face is totally blank.

“Sorry,” he says, “I didn’t- I… Um, look, I know you’re mad, I’m sorry for not-”

Gavin holds his hand up, then pulls at the hem of Jeremy’s shirt, lifts up the bandage on his stomach and has a quick look before putting everything back in place. “Looks like you didn’t pop a stitch. Lucky.”

Then he stands, turns away from Jeremy and makes like he’s going to head out the door, going to leave Jeremy here and not even talk to him.

“Gavin, wait!” He yells, and pushes himself up despite literally just being told not to, “Are you not going to say anything? Are you not going to yell at me? Get angry? Come on, give me something.”

He’s turned, so Jeremy can’t see his face, but Gavin’s body is tense, still, completely closed off from him.

“H-Hey, come on now Gav,” he says pleadingly, clenching the sheets in his fists when he doesn’t even react to the crack in his voice, “Please don’t shut me out.”

“Don’t shut you out?” Gavin exclaims, fists suddenly clenched at his sides as his body shakes and he refuses to turn around and look at him, “Don’t shut you out, Jeremy? Please, give me a break, who was shutting who out when you decided not to tell me you got bloody stabbed?”

“I’m sorry-”

“No you’re not, I bet you’d do it again right now, wouldn’t you? You don’t even trust us to look after you, you think we’ll just mess it all up and we won’t be able to help, always trying to do shit by yourself.”

And then Gavin turns to him, face wildly different from before, red and puffy, covered in tears and wearing an expression Jeremy’s never seen before. Pain, anger, sadness, betrayal.

“That’s not what it was at all! I know you guys can look after me, I trust you with my life, I trust you guys more than I’ve ever trusted anyone, but-… But I just- I just don’t wanna be a burden, fuck. I don’t have as much experience as any of you, and I’m still… I still feel like the new guy, sometimes, like I still need to prove myself, carry my own weight. I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t trust you guys, it’s that I don’t trust… M-Me. I don’t- I don’t trust myself not to fuck all this up.”

At this point theres tears streaming down his own face, lips trembling, stumbling over each word and he tries to take deep breaths, tries to get his emotions under control, but the dam’s broken and there’s no stopping it now.

“Jeremy,” Gavin’s voice comes out like a sob, then he’s suddenly enveloped in a bone-crushing hug, “you idiot. You absolute moron. We’re all fuck-ups, Jeremy, but that doesn’t stop us, does it? We do the dumbest shit and we still always come out on top. Don’t sell yourself short, you’re more capable than you think; you make the least amount of mistakes out of all of us.”

Jeremy leans his face on Gavin’s shoulder, trembles in his touch as it starts to sink in that he’s fine, that Gavin’s fine and upset, but still loves him, is still willing to forgive. He hasn’t fucked everything up.

“I’m sorry,” he says eventually, pulling back from the hug and gently brushing his fingers against Gavin’s, “I should have told you I got stabbed, I was being stupid. I won’t do it again, I won’t do that to you.”

Gavin bumps their foreheads together, sniffles, then gently brushes his lips against Jeremy’s, “I know,” he says, “I trust you.”

[fanfictionhub]

Blush (Peter Parker x Reader)

(The above gif is mine, hence the watermark)

Fandom: Marvel

Word count: 847

Warnings: None

Also Starring: Ned Leeds, Thor (mentioned)

Prompts: “We could get coffee together? Or if you don’t like coffee, maybe a cup of tea? Or just water? We don’t even have to drink, we could just stare at each other. Not stare stare but–”

A/N: This is the first drabble I’ve posted to this blog! I wanted to write something small and fluffy so here you go! If you’d like to make a request by using one of my prompts, you’re more than welcome to. the link to my prompts is in the description.                            

Peter Parker is tall.

Peter Parker has a dimple on his chin.  

Peter Parker has a shy smile and large, almost innocent eyes, and you can’t help but smile at just how awkward he is. Not that awkward is a bad thing, awkward is a refreshing and welcome distraction from the static predictability of your life. Still, his nervous energy strikes you in a way that’s completely new and the rush of unfamiliar feelings terrifies you in a way that you can’t exactly pinpoint.

It’s a daunting thought, as you’ve only known him and his best friend, Ned Leeds, for exactly seven hours. Yet every minute of those hours felt like years, years upon years of listening, learning and laughing with two dorky yet lovable boys. And as you amble down the street of the city that is now your home, you can’t help but wish they had been a part of your life when you needed companionship the most.

“So, (Y/N), what do you think of Spider Man?” Ned suddenly asks, tearing a large chunk out of his pretzel. Mustard is smeared across his bottom lip, some of it has also dripped onto the collar of his shirt. You and Peter exchange an amused look.

“The skinny dude in red spandex? Yeah, he’s alright I guess. I mean, he’s no Thor but he has a good heart.”

Ned glances at Peter, smirking wolfishly, “You don’t have to be nice about it. If you think he’s a loser, just say it.”

Peter looks as though he’s going to slap the smug smirk off Ned’s face.

“Well, I wouldn’t say he’s a loser,” you reply, thoughtfully, “But he’s done a lot for the city and its people, so it doesn’t really matter how dorky he looks beside Thor.”

Ned gives a giant snort, just as Peter bumps into him. Ned’s pretzel falls unceremoniously to the ground and Ned stares at it, forlornly.

“Oops,” Peter says, his tone sardonic, as he moves past a mourning Ned and the two of you walk ahead of him.

“How are you finding the city?” Peter asks as Ned grumbles behind you. Peter has his hands shoved in his pockets and there is a faint blush creeping across his cheeks, and you ignore the fluttering in your chest, choosing to smile instead.

“Overwhelming,” you sigh, staring at the bustling city around you, “I feel like I’m lost 95% of the time…”

Peter chortles, “I guess the city has a way of unnerving people. But if you look closely, it’s actually a beautiful city.”

Your smile is warm and genuine as you study him in the afternoon light. There is something brutally authentic about Peter Parker, like his love of the city he lives in runs so deep, he’s become it. You imagine the veins of the city leading directly into Peters' heart, it’s pulse and rhythm thumping beneath his chest. Yellow taxis following the map on his palms and the cities lights glowing inside his eyes like a hidden galaxy.

“I’d like it if you showed me around sometime…” you smile, eager to learn more about this strange boy beside you.

Peter’s cheeks burn, his lips quirking into a nervous smile, “Y-Yeah, I’d like that, too. We could get coffee together? Or if you don’t like coffee, maybe a cup of tea? Or just water? We don’t even have to drink, we could just stare at each other. Not stare stare but–”

“–I would love to grab a coffee with you, Peter,” you giggle, suddenly giddy, “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“Am I not cute enough for coffee?” Ned blurts out from behind you, and you’re suddenly reminded of his presence, “Or am I just the third wheel in this friendship, destined for a life of loneliness…”

You laugh as Peter flushes beside you “You know, Jedi’s gave up their material attachments to serve the Force, and they’re total badasses.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better by comparing me to a Jedi?” Ned asks, beaming, “Because if you are, it’s working.”

The three of you laugh as you stroll down the street, and you glance at Peter, only to find that he’s already staring at you. He smiles, and it looks as though he’s swallowed the sun.

“I’m really glad that we met you, (Y/N),” Peter murmurs, later on when the two of you are waving goodbye to Ned from the end of his driveway, “That I met you...”

You turn to him, biting your lip, your chest a cathedral filled with butterflies. There’s an underlying sense of adventure that still burns hopefully in your chest as you gaze at Peter, and his presence only amplifies it by a thousand. There’s always a strange thrill in meeting new people in strange yet magical cities, but you have a hunch that Peter isn’t just anyone. Not to you, anyway.

You reach up and press a chaste kiss to his cheek, watching as his blush burns in his cheeks and seeps down his neck. 

“So am I.”

[westywrites]

Story with Gods - Chp 3

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

Hey @ratracechronicler @whollyart @concealeddarkness13 if you’re interested in reading some of Sophia’s way with words in canon, you’ll enjoy this. I’m away for work this week (I scheduled this on Sunday), so I’m posting chapter three instead of a short story since I probably won’t have the time to write something new anyways. This will make more sense if you read chapter one and chapter two. 

Warning for depictions of death and dead bodies

"Olivia," Sophia whispered this time, standing shakily. She examined the row of bodies, her breath caught in horror. Everyone was dead, Olivia was dead. She should be dead, but, she wasn't. Sophia stepped out of the row, stretching cautiously and touching all over her own body. She felt for her own pulse and breathing, both were there just as they should be. In fact, she felt great. Aside from a feeling of pent-up energy, she felt perfectly fine. None of it made any sense. Olivia's body fell sideways to the floor, and Sophia ran over. No pulse, she was dead for sure. Sophia gently moved her body over into the row, her dead friend seemed so light, so fragile. Tears streamed down Sophia's face. "What the hell is going on?" She begged the universe for an answer.

"We could have guessed it would be you." The announcer's voice made Sophia jump, she hadn't expected a response. "You'll be great in our ranks if you can take orders well enough. None of us can guess who you're a rebirth of though. With golden hair like that, you could totally be an Apollo. That's where my bet is."

"Woah, what? None of that made any sense." Sophia glared at the speaker. "Tell me what's going on."

"It'll all make sense in due time kid. We have to wait for any others to wake up to explain though, I'm not explaining more than once." The announcer seemed to be very casual now that they had all died, though he still sounded rather bored.

"Am I a ghost? Is this some kind of afterlife?" Sophia kept pinching herself, trying to make sure it was real.

"No and no. That's all you're getting for now kid. I'm sure the others will wake up real soon." The slight click told Sophia that the announcer had turned off the mic. She kicked the wall and started pacing the room while mumbling angrily to herself. Hours seemed to pass, and she was so incredibly bored, no one showed any signs of being anything other than dead. Sophia doubted if any of it was real and was starting to think she had been dreaming the whole thing. She paced and mumbled to herself as she thought but rather than finding answers she just found herself getting more and more restless. Time seemed to pass strangely, she wasn't hungry or tired but knew enough time had passed that she should be. She gave up trying to make sense of any of it and fidgeted in silence.

"C'mon it's taking forever, I don't even think it'll happen,” Sophia complained loudly. "I need to know what's going on."

"It's only been a day and a half since you woke up, be patient, you died five days before most of them." It hadn't felt like a full day and a half, but she honestly didn't care about that.

"So you admit I'm dead?" She pressed for more.

"No, you were dead. You're not anymore." The announcer sighed like he had said all this a thousand times before. "I'm not going to explain yet."

"So I'm undead. A zombie?" She planned to irritate him with obvious questions until he gave in.

"Not at all. Look, kid, you can't manipulate me into giving you answers, I'm trained against manipulation. Trained by the very best." The announcer was overly proud when he mentioned this and Sophia had an idea.

“So you must do some pretty important work if you’ve been trained by the very best, huh?” Her tone shifted slightly, so she was praising him as she asked.

“Well, I would say it’s pretty damn important.” His voice swelled with pride. “I actually work for the king and not just like as part of the system but pretty much directly for the king.”

“Oh wow, that’s impressive.” Her voice dripped with false honey. “To work for such a big powerful man from a big powerful family.”

“Well actually that’s not quite how it works for us, and King Rylan’s really new as a king, but he’s a good king.” The announcer’s voice had changed entirely and now was charged with a boastful excitement.

“How can someone be a new king?” Sophia asked as if she was dying to know. “What happened to the old king?”

“The old king, if you can call him that, was a tyrant. An evil old crook.” Sophia was taken aback by the malice in his voice. “The great king of today led an honourable rebellion, like the stuff straight out of movies and dreams. Course there’s still those damn old fashioned folk who want the old king back in charge.”

“What does the king do about these folk? I’m sure a great king like him doesn’t just put up with disobedience like that!” At this point, she was genuinely interested in what he had to say, but she continued to play into the announcer’s pride.

“Of course he doesn’t! That’s why the program exists, to gather troops and build an army worthy of fighting for our king.”

“Wow,” she paused, “I’m sorry I just realized I don’t know what to call you. I was going to say you are so smart and seem to know so much, but I don’t know your name.”

“Oh, uh, I’m Robert, yeah and thanks,” he seemed flustered by the compliment, “I’m not that smart though it’s just my thing to know stuff.”

“Well, Bob, can I call you Bob? You seem pretty darn smart to me.” She smiled gently towards where she thought the camera was. "This here," Sophia gestured at the room, "is part of the program, right Bob?"

"Exactly. This is my method of enacting the program. Deals with the testing and rebirths in one step. Though it takes longer than some of the other facilities in North America, it is cheaper by a landslide." Sophia had always been good at manipulating people, and Bob’s pride made him incredibly easy to manipulate.

"I'm sure the king appreciates that, though probably not as much as you deserve." Sophia smiled sweetly again.

"Y'know kid I really like you. You've got the right stuff, and I'm sure you're gonna do real well with us." He laughed slightly, but a dejected tone began to seep into his voice. "You'll probably be my boss one day, seem powerful enough."

"I doubt that. As I said, you're smart, Bob, you'll get promoted eventually if you really work for it." Though her words seemed stiff and fake in her mouth, Bob ate it up.

"I love the human notions you've got. Things don't work like that in our world, you'll see soon enough." He sighed, and now all the pride was gone from his words. "The world of gods is ruled by who you're a rebirth of, simple as that. Power is everything." Sophia's eyes got wide at the mention of gods.

"Gods?" She stuttered slightly. "Do you mean like Zeus and stuff? Wait, are you implying I'm not human? That I'm a god?" The idea had made her drop her act completely. "You're speaking metaphorically right?"

"Shoot, I didn’t mean to say that." Bob paused. "Did you do that on purpose? You manipulated me didn't you?" He seemed amazed. "Good job I guess." His tone dropped into disappointment and boredom again.

"Yea I've been playing you this whole time, didn't even do a good job of it." Sophia felt disjointed from the situation. "But it's too late now, you've got to explain."

"I'm not speaking metaphorically in any way.” His explanation held no conviction, and it sounded as though he was reading a script. “Though maybe not exactly as you've thought of us, gods walk the earth. We inhabit the same spaces as humans, but we stay hidden, running our own society with its own ruler. For millennia that ruler has been Zeus, a horrible and tyrannical king who gets glorified by the old myths of humans." Bob practically spit the name Zeus, like it was the most despicable thing he could imagine. "Recently Rylan, a rebirth of Loki believe it or not, took the throne. Zeus is captured somewhere, and a lot of older gods are still fighting to get him back on the throne.” He sighed again. “The whole thing’s a mess honestly."

"Loki and Zeus are from whole different mythologies, they're both real?" Part of her love of history branched into mythologies, so this was a subject Sophia had thought about before, what could happen if certain or all mythologies were true. She never thought they actually could be real though.

"Just about all human mythologies are real in one way or another. Most are based off real things that happened at some point." He paused as if to think and then confessed, "me though, I'm just a rebirth of Seshat, an ancient Egyptian goddess of knowledge and known as the one who opened the doors to heaven for the souls of passing pharaohs, no one you’ll ever have to care about. She was downplayed to only a scribe and wife of Thoth.” His voice held a restrained pride and anger as he talked about her. “Most humans don't even know or care about her, and even when they did, she got demoted when Thoth showed up." He sighed again. "But you, well you’re obviously someone important, you won't be stuck with some repetitive and boring job." He paused and then breathed out heavily as if he had got some weight off his chest.  

"I was just thrown into all this nonsense, and I definitely do care. I've read a few things about Seshat before, she was insanely smart, she's supposed to be the one who invented writing, that's a pretty big deal." Sophia was immensely glad for the hours she thought she had wasted reading Wikipedia articles about gods and goddesses. "Besides, even if she hadn't done all that stuff it wouldn't matter, she'd still be just as important and so would you. What powers you have or whatever shouldn't determine anything. That's just plain stupid."

"Are you just sucking up to me again?" His voice was accusatory.

"No, you're already giving me what I wanted. I just think that that system is complete BS." She was actually pretty pissed about it, Bob seemed like a cool enough guy, apart from the whole starving them to death thing, and he was obviously unhappy with how he was treated. "I firmly believe that everyone is equal, adding god stuff into that changes nothing. You are every bit as important and deserving as I am and as anyone is.” She gestured as she spoke and one movement brought her attention back to the row of bodies. “Now where does killing people fit into all of this?"

"There's only so many things I'm allowed to tell you until we know for sure who you are." There was a shuffling sound from his end. "I've got to go." The speaker cut off. Sophia shouted for him to come back. She shouted and begged for him, but there wasn't a response. She waited in silence, surveying the room, so small but it felt so large without the others living within it. She waited and waited.

A hot anger started to bubble inside of her, not exactly anger at Bob but anger at the situation. Anger at having believed his story even for a second. Gods couldn't be real, it would be impossible to hide. Her teeth ground together and tears brimmed in her eyes, she looked at all those people lying dead in front of her. The anger grew inside of her, and it felt like she may explode if she didn't do something. And so she screamed. Just one solid screech of emotion and suddenly all the lights were out. There was a faint smell of something burning and a crackling sound. She looked at fluorescents above her, they were launching small sparks, and in a few spots, they had shattered. The announcement system made a crackling sound before fizzling out completely. Except for the sparks from above, the room was completely dark.  A strange sound made Sophia jump before light filtered in from the food slot.

"Kid," Bob's voice came from the slot, "there seems to have been some sort of electrical overload for this room. We have to move you to a different room. The door will unlock, go out and turn right. There will be one other door open, go into that room and wait for further instruction." The food slot slid closed with a quiet squeak which was followed by the metallic swish of the big door unlocking. Sophia stepped out into a brightly lit white hall with four doors. The one she had just come out of, one directly across the hall, and ones on either end. As Bob said it would be, the door to her right was open. For the sake of her own curiosity, she tried the other two doors, both were locked. She cursed under her breath and stepped into the room on the end, it was an exact copy of the room they had been kept in, only without the row of bodies on the floor. Being in another room made her realize just how badly those bodies had smelt.

"Thank you for your cooperation," Bob interrupted her thought process over the speaker in a somewhat sarcastic voice. "We need you to do something for us, kid, you have to go back and get any bodies that don't seem entirely dead."

"They're all dead, how can they seem not dead if they are, well, dead?" Sophia was still flustered from emotion and the surprise of the power outage. She didn't want to deal with the cryptic things Bob was saying.

"If you pay attention to the bodies I'm sure you'll see what I mean." He assured her, his tone was now sympathetic. Sophia noted that his mood seemed to change pretty quick. "There's a flashlight on the counter here for you." For lack of anything better to do, Sophia went back to the other room, flashlight in hand. Holding her nose against the horrid smell of week-old corpses, she shined the light across each body. They all seemed pretty dead to her. It only seemed appropriate to fix their hair and wipe some dirt off their faces before leaving them in the dark. She worked her way slowly down the line, singing nonsense gibberish to the tune of a song she could hardly remember through her tears. She left Olivia for last, gently running a hand through her thick dark hair. Sophia's finger brushed against Olivia's forehead, and she paused. Olivia's forehead felt warm, all the other bodies had felt cold and dry, but Olivia was different. Without thinking, Sophia scooped up her dead friend and carried her back to the other room. Olivia felt so delicate and light in her arms, Sophia felt idiotic for believing she was anything but dead. Sophia placed Olivia gently on the ground and sat beside her in silence.

"Are you sure she's the only one?" Bob's voice startled Sophia. She nodded assuredly and received a quick apology from Bob. "Our system normally gets at least half of every group, it's been all out of sorts for a while now."

"Even half dead of every group is a lot of people to die." Sophia glared at the speaker, unknowingly locking eyes with Bob through the camera. Her piercing blue eyes felt like they could burn through Bob's face. He turned away from the camera and shut off the mic. At the distinctive click, Sophia sighed and pulled Olivia's head into her lap. She ran her fingers around her dead friend's face, wishing she would wake up at that exact moment. As Sophia looked at Olivia's limp body, she began to feel stupid. She held her fingers against Olivia's neck and wrist to check for a pulse. When she felt nothing she started crying, how could she have actually believed her friend would be alive? Olivia held no signs of life other than being slightly warmer than the others. All of this god stuff had to be nonsense, it didn't make any sense. She pushed Olivia's corpse off her lap and started pacing the room. The more she paced, the more agitated she felt, and the air seemed to fill with the metallic energy of her anger.

Eventually, a slip of paper slid in through the slot. Upon looking at the paper, Sophia saw that it was some kind of personality test. Both sides of the long sheet were filled with questions and spaces to respond on a scale from strongly agree to strongly disagree. She couldn't help the small cruel laugh that escaped her, the last time she had done a test like that was to find out what kind of dessert she would be according to some dumb website. After reading a couple of the questions, she put the paper back on the counter and announced, "There's no way I'm doing that for you."

"Please, Sophia, it'll help us figure it out so much quicker." Bob knew he wouldn't succeed in convincing her, but he had to try.

"Help you figure what out exactly?" She was still rather restless and started pacing again. "Who I'm a rebirth of, or whatever? What does that even matter?"

"It determines where we send you once you're ready to go." He had completely missed that the question was rhetorical. Sophia told him again it was bullshit.

"That paper won't tell you anything because I'm not the same as whoever I'm supposedly a rebirth of. I have my own personality, and a dumb test doesn't mean anything." She gestured angrily across the room at the page on the counter. It fluttered dramatically to the corner as if it had been blown by a strong wind. It took a second for Sophia to realize that the same wind had bounced back to brush gently on her face. She glanced around her for any source of a draft but the only opening was the food slot, and the wind had blown the wrong way.

"Holy cow, it was you." Bob immediately clicked off his mic.

"What was me?" Sophia called after him, it felt like a stone had dropped into her lungs. "Bob, please come back." She was starting to feel afraid. She had no reason to panic, but something within her was freaking out, the metaphorical stone in her lungs making it hard to breathe. An illogical thought kept swimming through her mind. What if Bob meant that she had caused the wind? If the god thing was true... She couldn't let herself start thinking that way, she knew it would freak her out, but she really couldn't help herself. Soon she was sitting in the corner crying over the seemingly nonsensical possibility that she was in anyway responsible for the wind or even the power outage. 

Silence engulfed the room, leaving Sophia with only her sniffles and shaky breaths. No, there was another sound. Something had rustled, something else had moved in that cold, confining room. Sophia looked up to see Olivia stir again.