#i can probably recite half the fic for you without looking but god please don’t ask me the title

[im-still-watching-anime]

haha as a fic writer i’m obviously very familiar with my own works it’s not like i have to go and look them up to remember the titles of my own fics *sweats*

[mel-the-fangirl]

Toss A Coin to Your Witcher

Henry Cavill x Reader

Words: 2,362

I am so so so nervous to post this because this is my first time writing a Henry fic and I know that the Henry Cavill fandom is such a tightknit family, I hope you guys have room for one more hopeless Henry stan. I know this isn’t even half as good as the other Henry fics out there but I had this idea stuck in my head for a very long time.

Please like and reblog or leave me some replies if I should do a second part! Thank you!

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The makeup brush swept precisely along your cheekbone, covering it in a subtle shimmer. Production staff milled around behind you, testing sound, testing lights. Being an actor, these things were nothing new. 

"Now remember, say it with me," 

"Don't say or do anything stupid." you recited with your long time agent and friend, Marge.

You thanked the makeup artist and made your way to the set. 

"When have I ever said or done anything stupid though?" you asked

Marge looked at you appraisingly before replying, 

"There's always a time for everything. Now go on." 

The vibe on set dialled to a hundred when you stepped on. It was really flattering how they cheered as you plonked your butt down on the wooden chair, a red tarp was set up behind you and the studio lights surrounded the area.

"Ready when you are Y/N!" the producer aka the ring leader of this whole operation flashed you a thumbs up

You nodded, feeling the nervousness bubble up your throat. 

Surprise, surprise. You still got nervous in front of the camera. It wasn't hard to handle though, you took a couple of deep breaths and you were good to go. 

"Hey guys, gals, and non-binary pals! I'm Y/N Y/L/N. I'm here with Buzzfeed and we're gonna be playing Twenty Questions." you winked at the camera with your arms wrapped around the little jar that had your questions in it

 "Let's get started, shall we?" 

Eager to begin, you stuck your hand into the jar without a second thought. 

"I freaking love Buzzfeed, really. Especially Tasty, I mean, I don't cook. But," you shrugged, wiggling your fingers, hearing the tiny bits of folded paper move around in the jar. "I love watching people cook. Then I love eating."

Scattered chuckles broke out through the crew. 

After a few minutes of rustling around, you figured you’d just come clean, "Okay. Small problem." 

You lifted your hand, the jar coming along with it. The pieces of folded paper crowding around your encased wrist as you waved your arm. 

Another round of shocked giggles started up as a couple of assistants rushed to you and tried to yank the jar off. 

"This is too good," the producer chortled, "Mind if we keep this in?"

"Fine by me!" you watched intently as Marge rolled up your sleeve so one assistant could pour oil all over it. Eagle eyed, she watched as a drop of oil landed on the bottom hem of your sweater.

"Great job, Y/N. This sweater was a gift from that designer you met last week, he said he made it just for you." she scolded, taking charge by grabbing the jar with two hands

"It was an accident, Marge. It's not like I planned on getting my hand stuck in a jar today!"

With a tug and a pop, your hand was free and slick with olive oil. Marge landed on her butt on the floor.

"Marge!" you howled with laughter, helping her up

She straightened her blouse, all business but her cheeks were stained red with embarrassment. 

"Can someone help Y/N wash the oil off her hands? Let's get this show on the road, people!" she barked marching orders at the staff, clapping her hands as she went. She wasn't in charge here but no one dared to question her. 

You chuckled, knowing that this was a cute little anecdote you’d be sharing with anyone who was willing to listen.

A few minutes later, you were back in your chair, having a laugh with everyone. The jar incident already stripped away the majority of your anxiety so you were ready to go.

"Okay! First question!" you squinted at the strip of paper, "What is the most expensive thing you’ve stolen from any set you’ve been on?" 

“Well!” you widened your eyes at the camera, “Bold of you all to assume that I’ve ever stolen anything!”

Marge scoffed rather audibly, making everyone raise their eyebrows at you.

“Okay, fine!” you held up your hand. The stunning ring you had on sparkled underneath the lights, nearly blinding anyone who looked.

“I did a period movie a while back and they had these drop dead gorgeous, and I mean gorgeous pieces of jewelry. I wore this piece,” you gazed down at the ring fondly, “for the whole of the film and I just pinched it after we wrapped, I couldn’t part with it, okay? I’m like a fricking magpie, I love shiny things.”

The crew burst into fits of laughter, making you laugh along with them.

“To clarify! This is the replica the props department had made, a very expensive replica. I can see you freaking out, Marge. And no, you don’t have to call the insurance company.”

You were a big hit, to say the least. You had them in stitches every time you opened your mouth but all good things had to come to an end, right?

It didn’t matter how carefully you dipped your hand into the question jar, this next one was going to make things very messy for you. 

"What do you like to do in your free time?" you read out loud, tapping a finger against your chin

"There hasn't been much free time lately,” you chuckled, “Let’s see… I play video games, yeah. I am so obsessed with the Witcher, it's borderline unhealthy. I’ve read all the books and played the games so many times." 

"What do you think of Henry Cavill as Geralt?" the producer asked you

Henry Cavill.

Just hearing that man's name was enough to make the blood rush to your cheeks. You brushed an imaginary hair out of your face. From behind the camera, Marge raised a knowing brow.

"Well," you cleared your throat and sat up straighter

"To be honest, at first I was really skeptical about his casting. I mean, he is way too good looking. Like way. Way. Too good looking. But…"

"But?"

Your mind drifted to the first time you saw a picture of Henry Cavill in full costume. The white hair, the golden cat eyes, the intense gaze and all that leather? It definitely made you feel… Certain things.

You cleared your throat, propping yourself on the table with your arms. To be honest, your head was still in a Henry Cavill haze so you had zero control of what came out of your mouth next.

"I'd definitely toss all my coins to that Witcher. Toss a few other things as well."

Everyone in the room ooh'ed and whistled, delighted by your saucy reply. The ruckus snapped you out of it and your hand immediately flew to your mouth.

“Please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.”

“You did.” Marge mouthed at you, trying but failing to contain her laughter

"So you enjoyed his performance as Geralt?" the producer pressed on, hoping to get more audience-raking answers

How many times were you going to blush during this interview?

"Oh, well, about that, I haven't really gotten around to actually watching it.” you admitted sheepishly, “But I've seen photos and some clips. Very impressed by what I've seen so far."

"You will watch it though, right?" 

"Oh, absolutely. No way I’d miss out on that! Henry Cavill is an incredibly wonderful, talented actor. I think he’s also a fan of the franchise so I have no doubt that he played Geralt to perfection as with all his other roles." you nodded solemnly, putting a hand to your heart

Everyone in the room with you caught on that you were gushing over the actor, the sly looks they all exchanged with one another were a dead giveaway. Too bad you didn’t notice before you could try and play it cool.

“Alright! I think it’s time for the next question!” you declared, swiftly plucking another question out of the jar

By the time it was all over, you had convinced yourself that your little crush-related blunder wasn’t even a big deal, it would probably just be a little footnote in that video. No biggie.

But, Jesus Christ were you wrong.

The video took a couple of weeks to edit and in that time, you were busier than ever. A movie you had just done was getting a lot of attention, your performance in particular had critics singing your praises. At that point, you were definitely getting noticed a lot more when you stepped out for coffee.

So, the timing was just perfect.

The second the video went live, your phone was going off non stop. Twitter mentions, Instagram tags, and articles. A few notable entries being:

“WATCH: RISING STAR Y/N Y/L/N GUSHES ABOUT HENRY CAVILL IN CHARMING BUZZFEED VIDEO”

“@geraskier-rights: Y/N Y/L/N REALLY SAID SHE’D TOSS ALL HER COINS TO HENRY CAVILL’S GERALT AND WE ALL KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS”

“@geralt-of-vengerberg: Y/N The Fond™ is showing👀👀👀”

Marge sat on your sofa with your phone in hand, absolutely thrilled while reading tweets out loud. You scheduled a panic session with her over lunch once everything blew up.

“Oh my God.” you groaned, massaging your temples. “Marge, what do I do?”

“About what?” she didn’t even bother to look up at you

You plopped yourself down next to her, laying your head in her lap, “All that. It’s everywhere.”

“And? There’s nothing wrong with it, they all think you’re charming and funny. A true Relatable Queen.”

Was it your sanity slipping through your fingers? Or the overpowering embarrassment? You had no idea but whatever it was, it had you laughing until your stomach hurt.

Marge tugged at your hair, “Get it together, bitch. Jeez.”

“What are you so worried about anyway?” she asked, placing your phone on your stomach

You swiped through your emails absentmindedly, “I’m not worried about anything, it’s just that what if…”

You left the words hanging in the air, you might as well have been dangling from a cliff from how much colour drained from your face.

“What if what?” 

Marge shoveled some pasta into her mouth before noticing that you essentially turned into a statue right next to her.

“Y/N!” she shook your arm with a grip you were sure would leave some bruises. “What’s the matter?”

Wordlessly, you passed your phone to her, the comment from a certain verified account displayed prominently on Buzzfeed’s Instagram post of a little snippet from your video, the “I’d toss all my coins to that Witcher” part, naturally.

“@henrycavill: Dear Y/N, how many coins are we talking about here? Let’s talk about my reward.”

It was all Marge could do to not throw your phone across the room. Her eyes went wide, following your every move as you paced back and forth, a thumbnail in your mouth.

“That did not just happen, I did not just see that right now. I didn’t.” you babbled, your heart beating thunderously in your chest

There it went. Your very own ticking time bomb finally went off. Number of casualties? Just one. You.

“Okay. Just calm down, Y/N.” Marge caught you mid-pace, squeezing your arms

“Maybe it was a fan account. Tell me it was a fan account, Marge. Henry Cavill did not just hear me imply what I implied.” you grasped at her hand with your clammy one

“Well if he has a fan account that’s verified and has fourteen point five million followers?”

“Oh god.” you groaned, sinking to the floor and hugging your knees

“Oh, Christ.”

Marge hauled you to your feet and thrust your phone in your hand. She looked you hard in the eye, “Stop your whining and answer him. You’re Y/N fucking Y/L/N, one of the hottest people on the planet, start acting like it.”

You stared at her, eyes wide. Your chest rose and fell rapidly. Marge’s words started to make sense in your mind and adrenaline started surging through your veins. You nodded fervently, psyching yourself up.

“Fuck yeah.” you breathed, clicking ‘Reply’

“@yourinstagram: @henrycavill I know you take orens, crowns, and florens but maybe we should discuss further?”

Before you could even stop yourself (did you even want to?), your fingers already landed on the blue paper plane.

“I did it.” you exhaled, staring as the likes and overly enthusiastic replies started pouring in

“Fuck yeah, you did. Now, come on. Leave your phone. We’re getting drunk.”

More weeks passed and you actually ended up forgetting about that little reply you left Henry Cavill. You were busier than ever. Guestings, endorsement deals, and awards shows left and right. So, when you finally had a couple of days free, you decided you would set up camp on your sofa and finally watch Henry Cavill as Geralt of Rivia.

You even threw on your Superman pyjamas, “What the hell.” you shrugged

If you were going down this road, you might as well do it right. Maybe you would even watch the Man from U.N.C.L.E after or would it be Night Hunter? The decision would have to wait.

You watched, absolutely riveted as the White Wolf battled against the kikimora, his silver sword hacked at the creature with unmatched expertise. You were only a few minutes in but you already knew you’d be stuck on that sofa for hours.

When the kikimora had Geralt pinned underwater with his trusty sword just beyond arm’s reach, you found yourself on the edge of your seat, one of your cushions in a chokehold.

“Come on, come on, come on.” you muttered as Geralt reached for his sword

You wouldn’t find out if he got it or not. A knock on your door literally made you fall off the sofa.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, your hip was already smarting from the impact

Whoever that asshole was, you swore you were going to give him a piece of your mind. You stomped to your front door just as that idiot started knocking again.

You huffed and threw the door open then your mind immediately went blank.

“I am so sorry. Are you alright? I think I heard you fall?”

Oh yeah. You were definitely falling.

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You can find the second part here!

[me-and-your-husband]

together || a. barber

Summary: You and Andy spend your Valentine’s Day together, basking in the glow of each other.

Warnings: none, just fluff :)

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: I wrote this for @drabblewithfrannybarnes @chrissquares and @amythedvdhoarder 's Hoelentine’s fic swap! This is a gift for the extremely deserving @trashywritestrash !

The blinding sunlight peeked through the translucent white curtains and brought life into the room. The warm glow on your skin roused you, and your eyes fluttered open to look at the man beside you who was radiating such an ethereal energy that he was almost glowing. The golden light shone on his bare chest and highlighted the few grays in his beard and hair. The rhythmic rising of his chest up and down as he breathed was rather calming, and the faintest creases showed at the corners of his eyes, evidence of many years of laughter. 

While you were busy memorizing his every feature, the hand that wrapped around you subconsciously pulled you closer, burying your face in his neck. He still smelled of his cologne even after he showered last night. You smiled softly against his neck when you realized that even in his sleep, his subconscious knew that he wanted you close. 

Hours passed and the sun rose in the sky, brightening the room further. It was a Sunday, and Andy had the weekend off. He knew he wanted to spend the day with his girl on Valentine’s Day. When the birds stopped chirping and the streets became busy with a Sunday morning buzz, Andy stirred. Lifting your head from his neck, his eyelids fluttered open to reveal his gorgeous blue eyes.

Resting a hand on the side of his cheek and softly scratching his beard, you took a moment to admire him further as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and blinked to adjust to the light. 

“Morning, honey,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep. “How did you sleep?”

His hands moved to rest on your hips. “You know I always sleep perfectly next to you,” you hummed. He huffed out a small laugh, before pulling you back into his chest. 

“Y’know what day it is?” He teased.

“Of course I do, it’s National Organ Donor Day,” you smirked, lifting your head off his chest. 

He chuckled, “Very funny, Y/N.” He pushed you off his chest playfully. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! It’s Valentine’s Day,” you laughed.

“Oh really?” He said, words dripping in sarcasm. Leaning down, he brought his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, only parting when air became insufficient. 

You groaned, though the dazed smile on your face contradicted you. “We should probably get out of bed. It’s almost ten thirty,” you gestured towards the alarm clock on the bedside table. 

“Right. Wouldn’t wanna waste such a special day. We’ve gotta give thanks to the organ donors of America.”

The day continued as normal. Andy believed that spoiling his girl and showing her an abundance of affection shouldn’t be a one day a year thing. You and Andy ran a few errands and did a few things around the house, and in the late afternoon you slumped onto your couch after helping Andy carry the grocery bags through the door. 

Finding your exhaustion quite amusing, Andy chuckled. “If you’re tired, you can go have a nap, honey.”

You let out a noise in between a whine and a groan. “No, it’s Valentine’s Day and I want to spend it together. Besides, we’ve got that reservation-”

“Forget the reservation,” Andy professed. Feeling the couch dip with his weight, you felt his large hand rub soothingly up and down your back. “I’m happy wherever you are. And it’ll be way better if you aren’t exhausted. Go sleep, I’ll make dinner.”

“Ngh, are you sure?” You asked him softly, to which he nodded his head solemnly. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before you got up and threw yourself into your bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

In the kitchen, Andy was busy trying to boil pasta, cook chicken, cut vegetables and make sauce all at once, all while trying to be quiet as to not wake you from your peaceful slumber. Of course he succeeded, because it was Andy. 

An hour and a half later, Andy scribbled on a bright green sticky note and placed it right on the screen of your phone so that you couldn’t miss it when you checked the time. Taking a moment to admire your sleeping state before creeping back out of the room, Andy couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. What if you said no? What would he do without you? It was so unhealthy to live for another person other than yourself, it was unhealthy to be so obsessed with someone else’s love that you wanted to be in their immediate vicinity at all times, and it was unhealthy to give your entire self solely to someone else. Andy knew it was unhealthy, and before you he reminded himself of that every day. But then you came along, with your glowing smile and radiance, and Andy couldn’t help but follow you like a lost puppy and bend his morals to fit you into his life completely. 

It wasn’t like you did it on purpose. It wasn’t like you pranced into Andy’s life, took his whole heart in your hands, and forced him to trust you with it. No, he did that willingly. Who wouldn’t, though? You were anything but malicious with his soul. You guarded his heart like it belonged to the best man in the universe. Which to you, it did. 

Andy was the person who you wanted to shield from everything wrong and harmful in the world. Together, the two of you could create a little opaque protective bubble in which you could dwell in together, blocking out the rest of the world and the world not bothering you. Loving Andy was not a decision you made, but it was one you were thankful for nonetheless. 

The ringing of your alarm sounded, pulling you from your sleep. Stretching momentarily, you picked up your phone and aggressively tapped it to get it to stop ringing. When it didn’t, you opened up your eyes and after they adjusted to the light, you were met with the presence of a neon sticky note on your screen. You recognized Andy’s cursive:

Put something nice on, and come out when you’re ready.

You had to admit that you were curious, but you rolled out of bed and ruffled through your closet. After some indecisiveness, you settled on an outfit that you knew was Andy;s favorite. You put your hair up neatly and put any makeup you wished to wear on. It wasn’t long until you were ready, and when you were you opened your bedroom door and your ears were met with the soft hum of classical music. Walking down the hallway, you could tell that the house was dimly light, likely by candles. 

You finally stood before Andy at the kitchen table, who was pouring a glass of wine for you and placing it next to your plate. It was filled with all sorts of foods, and your mouth watered at the display. Andy gestured for you to sit, so you did so. He had changed since earlier, he now wore his usual slacks and a dress shirt, but no tie this time.

“Andy,” you breathed. “You didn’t have to do all of this!” You gawked as you looked around. Grabbing your hands from across the table, Andy assured you that he did, that he needs to show you how much he loves you. 

“Andy, you show me that every day. It’s laced in the little things you do like a drug.”

“And you’re addicted?” He asked smugly.

“And I’m addicted,” you confirmed. 

Andy took a deep breath as his mind wandered to the small velvet box in his back pocket. Looking at you, he realized that he wanted to do this now. Grabbing your hand, he led you to the back door. 

“Andy, where are we going?” You laughed. 

“You’ll see.”

Sliding open the back door, Andy led you out and shut it again. He let go of your hand when you spun around to take in the scene. Strings of lights were strung across the yard, illuminating the area. They created a box around you. You looked up towards the sky. The stars were almost clear tonight, the city’s pollution making them harder to see, but they were still as clear as always. 

Looking back down, you saw the man who held your heart in his hands, now holding a velvet box. Your breath caught in your throat and you let out a sob, hands flying up to cover your mouth. 

“Andy…” you choked out. He only let out a shaky breath.

“Y/N,” he began before he cleared his throat. “God, I pretty much recite speeches for a living and now I’m blanking on everything I practiced. Alright, I’m going to wing it,” he announced and you laughed with watery eyes. 

“Y/N, darling, love of my life, it’s quite a ridiculous notion that someone would follow another person to the ends of the earth, but here we are. I would travel anywhere just to keep you within my reach. I want to be able to call you Mrs. Barber, to wear your wedding band and for you to wear this ring. I want to grow and have a family with you and grow old with you. You’re like my air. I need you. And I know you don’t need me, because you’re the most independent woman I know, but even thinking about you makes my chest hurt. So please, Y/N, before this kills me, will you marry me?”

“Yes, Andy! Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot! I love you, I love you, I love you!” You gushed, hurling yourself into his arms. Burying his face in your neck, his beard felt scratchy against your skin. You could feel the hot tears on his cheeks, as you were sure he could feel yours.

And the two of you stayed like that for a while. Just holding on to each other. You relished in the confirmation of your everlasting bond and the next step you’d be taking together. But really, you two just revelled in the notion of feeling so safe in your lover’s arms, knowing you’d protect each other from the world. Together.

TAGLIST:

@ilovemarvel-andcats​

my other taglist members have been deactivated :(

[satoruvt]

for now; forever

pairing → kwon soonyoung x reader

word count → 9015

genre → mostly fluff, angst ↳ tags: ooh boy. firewatch au, banter, like a little bit (a lot) of pining, strangers to friends to… something, FLIRTING, reader’s kinda fucked up but its ok, hoshi’s weird and endearing (as always), a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, minghao best boy, soonyoung is very sweet it makes me want to cry

synopsis → after an unfortunate burnout that lands you in every critic’s negative and all-seeing eye, you decide to take a break from the one thing you know. you’re not sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for out in the middle of the woods - if you’re looking for anything at all - but at the very least, soonyoung will make the hunt a little less lonely.

warnings → there’s eventually a forest fire (starts on day 64 and is mentioned throughout the rest of the fic) that leads to an evacuation but it’s not super detailed, mentions and descriptions of creative burnout/breakdown

a/n → IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! i made a fancy banner nd everything <3 i know 9k isn’t a lot to some people but this is probably the longest one shot i’ve ever written LMAOO so i hope it’s paced ok and everything <33 PLEASE let me know what yall thought about this i am insanely proud of it. ok thats it hehe. hope you enjoy!!! see u on the other side!!!!

btw here’s a fun playlist of songs i listened to while writing mixed with some songs i think reflect the fic super well <33

DAY ONE.

So. You’re… out here, now.

Save for the bugs you have to swat at every fifteen seconds, the outdoors doesn’t seem that bad. The weather isn’t too hot (yet, your mind reminds you) and there’s something about the color of the sky that makes your heart constrict in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but given your luck recently, you’re hoping it’s not a warning for the coming months - God knows you need a break. The weight of the journal in your bag feels heavier than any of the camping gear you brought with you.

You debate texting Minghao that you’ve made it to the park safely, but when you check your phone after deciding yes, you see the words no service instead of the familiar lines of a signal. It’s not that big of a deal - you’d told him when you left that you probably wouldn’t have service at all - but a little part of you feels the tender shake of anxiety at the thought of not being able to contact your best friend. 

He was the most worried out of everyone when you told him you were leaving for the summer. You can’t really blame him - it was abrupt, you saw the flyer at the grocery store and took it - but after what happened… doing something felt, feels, better than sitting around and waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting for a healing you aren’t sure will ever come, at least not completely.

“Is this really…” Minghao had started upon first entering your apartment after getting your text. Clothes were thrown all over your bedroom floor in an attempt to pack. “Do you need to do this?”

The tone of his voice told you he wasn’t going to try to stop you, that he just wanted to make sure this was what you needed. You had only nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed to fold clothes and pack them into your suitcase.

“I just don’t want you to run away from it all,” Minghao said softly, sitting next to you. “You’ll need to face it eventually.”

“Is escaping really such a bad thing?” You asked, looking at Minghao. He gave you the look he did when you said something stupid, and if you weren’t still so wired from everything, you might have laughed. Instead, you sighed, placing a pair of pants into your suitcase. “I just need some time.”

Before you can face it, before you can come back, before you can write again… you still don’t know. Minghao had placed a kind hand on your shoulder to tell you there was no rush.

It’d taken no more than two days for you to get everything ready - including buying some apparently necessary survival equipment from Target. In a matter of a few hours you had gathered everything up, texted some other friends and your family that you might not be available the next few months and then… you left. 

(Your manager was pretty pissed off that you left so suddenly, but she was also pissed off at you when you told her you needed a break for at least a few weeks, so you’re not really offended.)

You take one last longing look at your car before locking it, pocketing the keys, and starting on your hike.

The hike takes almost the whole day. 

You think you almost cry when you finally see the watch tower you’re supposed to be staying in, your legs barely able to hold the rest of your body up. The hike wasn’t hard, really - long, though, and for someone who usually spends a work day sitting at a desk, you’re surprised you’re still alive. You find the little lock that holds the keys to the tower at the bottom of the stairs, fastened onto the railing. It takes a few seconds for you to enter the code you’d been given earlier, relishing in the soft breeze the cools the sweat on your face and neck. The sun is just barely starting to set beyond the mountains, a beautiful sight that you can’t properly focus on because all you want to do is pass out. You’re pretty sure you almost do on your way up the stairs.

The cabin at the top of the tower is pretty scarcely furnished, save for a few basic necessities (a gas stove rests on one wall, a small desk opposite to it by the door, a mini-fridge, and a bed in the corner plus what looks like a map table in the center of the room). It’s a little weird, a feeling caught between the nostalgia of moving into a new place and something you can’t quite name, but you figure you have a few months to make it all a little more comfortable.

For now, though, you feel like you’re on the last leg of your energy. Your mind is saying eat, sleep, eat, sleep on repeat and you have to agree with it, so you change the sheets on the bed, take down the boards over the windows while you wait for the macaroni from the Kraft box to cook. You end up eating a few forkfuls of poorly-made mac and cheese before crashing.

When you wake up, it’s to gentle static and a semi-clear, unfamiliar voice. It takes you a minute to remember where you are and what you’re doing, too disoriented to even think about the voice, but then - oh. Forest. Watch tower. Escape. Okay.

“Yo, Cottonwood! Am I coming through okay? Pick up your radio!”

Right. The voice. Radio?

“Come on, I saw you get in yesterday, I know you’re there. Unless,” a gasp, “you died! Oh my God, this is like a horror movie… and I’m next!”

You manage to wake up enough to locate your radio (a walkie-talkie resting on a charger on the desk) and, after a few seconds of gentle struggle, work it. “Not dead,” you say, then clear your throat because your voice does not sound good right after waking up. “I mean… almost. But not dead.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before the person on the other end hoots, apparently excited. “Arisen from the dead! Brought back to life by none other than the legendary Hoshi!”

A brief thought crosses your mind about having to listen to this guy all summer, but you quickly shoo it away. You won’t have to deal with it for the whole three months, right? “Who… who is Hoshi?”

“Me!” The voice answers, sounding a little too smug. “But it’s really just an alias. You can call me Soonyoung. I’m at Twin Peaks tower, west of yours!”

You spin around your cabin, looking through the windows cluelessly - how long have you been asleep, it’s practically afternoon - until you see a very small silhouette of another tower in the distance. You nod, then realize Soonyoung can’t see you. “Oh. Cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” Soonyoung asks, but his tone is light, breezy. You blink, reciting your name to him in a daze. “Pretty! So, what brings you out here?”

You weren’t expecting that question. “What?”

Soonyoung giggles into the radio. “Everyone comes out here for some reason. Like… Jihoon says it’s ‘cause it helps him write music. And Joshua loves the outdoors, so… what’s your reason?”

“You…” you start, not exactly wanting to tell a stranger the reason you ran away from everything you know. “Do you normally ask this many questions?”

“Yeah!”

You feel yourself sigh, already tired again.

“I… just wanted to get away for a while,” you end up saying. A half-truth. “I live in the city.”

“No way,” Soonyoung gasps excitedly. “Me too! I wonder if both of us have ever been walking and, like, passed each other without knowing…”

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought of escaping.

DAY TWO.

The next morning, you dedicate time to getting a little more settled into your home for the next few months. You didn’t bring a lot of decor - you didn’t think you needed any - but even seeing your blanket on the bed and a few books you need to catch up on reading stacked on the desk makes the place feel a little bit more like you. You eventually reach the journal you packed (that Minghao made you pack) and stare at it like it might do something. Like it might tell you to write again, or like it might tell you to leave everything behind. You don’t really know what you want from it.

A sing-songed version of your name comes from your radio and you blink away from the journal, set it down on the desk. “Good morning!” Soonyoung says from the other end, and you feel yourself take a deep breath as you pick up your radio and press down the button so he can hear you.

“Morning, Soonyoung,” you respond, calm compared to his excitement. 

“So… what are your plans for today?”

“Um,” you pause, brows furrowed, looking towards the direction of his tower even though you know he can’t see you. “Looking out for fires?”

“That’s boring,” is Soonyoung’s immediate response, and you laugh a little.

“Kinda my job for a while.”

And listen, you’ve known Soonyoung for less than a full 24 hours, but even before your brain really comprehends what he’s saying you know you’re not going to like it. “Wait, that reminds me,” he says, tone of his voice a little less overexcited puppy. “What did you do before this? Or, like, what’s your career? I mean, you don’t have to answer, I just thought it could be a way for us to get to know each other…”

His voice fades away for the split second you remember a little too much all at once, but somehow your voice still sounds put together when you speak. “Nothing special,” you say. There’s a pause when you don’t elaborate any further, but instead of asking about it, Soonyoung changes the subject.

“Okay!” he says, back to a more playful tone. “Anyways, I asked about your plans ‘cause I kind of need you to do something for me.”

“Already asking favors?” you tease. “We just met, Soonyoung.”

You hear him laugh, loud and hearty, and it’s contagious even through a radio line so you feel your own smile pull at your lips. “One of the other lookouts found some teenagers with fireworks,” he informs you. “I need you to meet him and get the fireworks from him.”

Your feet are already in your shoes, one halfway tied. “You can’t do this?”

Soonyoung’s voice is strangely thoughtful, but you catch a hint of mischief at the end of his sentence. “I would, but Jihoonie said he’d eat me if I tried to see him again and I think he’s serious this time.”

He tells you where the other lookout - Jihoon - should be and gives you a quick lesson on how to properly use your map to get there. You’re not really excited for another hike this early on (you’re still sore from even getting up here) but by the time you meet the halfway mark you’re convinced it’s not that bad. It’s neither long nor challenging, and… well, Soonyoung’s insistent on keeping you company the whole time. 

When you see what looks like a guy at the edge of a now-abandoned camp, you tell Soonyoung you’ll radio him when you’re on your way back to your tower. “Hey,” you call out as you get closer. The man looks up at you, his eyes sharp but not unkind. “Jihoon?”

“Yeah,” he replies. Under his cap you notice that his hair is a gentle silver, almost purple. He’s dressed casually, like you, and you suppose it’s a given since there’s no exact dress code for this job.  “You’re the newbie?”

You didn’t know people knew about you. “I.. I guess,” you say, then tell him your name.

“Cool,” Jihoon says, voice flat like he’s distracted. He picks up the bag next to his feet and hands it to you. “Take these. Thanks.”

He starts to walk away, down a trail opposite the direction you came, but you think of earlier, when Soonyoung asked about your job (or when he didn’t). You call after Jihoon, hesitate, but then opt to make this quick since he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Have you and Soonyoung… known each other for long?”

Jihoon turns around. He shrugs, then nods. “We met in college, a few years ago.”

“What kind of person is he?”

You watch in vague amusement as Jihoon’s nose scrunches up, but the small smile on his face refuses to hide and it makes you giggle. “Really annyoing,” he tells you, then pauses for a second like he’s looking for the right words, “kind of overwhelming sometimes. But he’s good. He’s someone you want around.”

Someone you want around, your brain repeats to you. You nod with a friendly smile as you haphazardly stuff the fireworks in your hiking bag. “Okay. Thank you.”

Jihoon offers an acknowledging nod of his own before continuing on his way back to his tower. You’re about five minutes into your hike back to yours when your radio sounds from your pocket with a now-familiar voice.

“Are you on your way back?” Soonyoung asks. “You forgot to tell me!”

“Sorry, yeah, I am now. I was talkin’ to Jihoon for a second.”

“Really? That’s weird. He rarely talks to anyone, especially strangers. What’d you talk about?”

You can’t help the small smile that lands on your face as you speak. “Stuff to blackmail you with.”

You think you hear Soonyoung’s groan all the way from his tower, and your smile only grows when it turns into a laugh.

DAY FIVE.

The clouds look dark today.

They haven’t covered the sun completely yet, but they’re closing in fast. You hope that it rains, already sick and tired of the disgusting heat, but also. Something else.

Rainy days always used to be the best to write, your brain supplies to you. You brave a glance at the still-unopened journal on the desk, thinking that maybe…

Your radio turning on drags you away from the crack in metaphorical door, coming at the perfect time as if to tell you that you’re not ready yet. You listen to it, grab the radio, murmur a greeting to Soonyoung.

“It’s getting pretty dark out, huh?” He says. He must be looking at the sky, too.

“Yeah,” you hum. “Hopefully the storm isn’t too bad.”

The line goes quiet, but you know that Soonyoung’s still there even if he isn’t saying anything. The knowledge comforts you, just a little.

“Well... got any rainy day stories?”

DAY SEVENTEEN.

“So, Soonyoung,” you call into your radio as you step outside. You’ve taken advantage of the small balcony around the entire cabin, setting up a few chairs you found in the storage unit at the bottom of the tower (just in case someone stops by, you tell yourself) and a small table you weren’t using inside. The nights are hot but still relaxing, and you find yourself sitting outside often, catching up on reading or taking in the stars. 

“I can’t believe you radioed me first,” Soonyoung responds, and you hear the smugness in his voice. “I’m so happy!”

Soonyoung somehow almost always manages to be with you in the nights, too, even if not physically. Being away from the urban civilization you’re used to has been a little difficult to adjust to, but you feel significantly less alone whenever you hear him calling you. You tell him to be quiet even though both of you are laughing. The distant crickets make your chest warm.

“What do you do? You didn’t tell me before,” You ask him after a second. There’s a small wave of anxiety that rushes over you at the idea that he might call you out about when he asked you the same thing. That was two weeks ago, though, you think, and Soonyoung wouldn’t. You’re sure he’s been able to tell that it’s a touchy subject. You’re not as discreet as you think you are, even if (and you’ve learned this the past few weeks) Soonyoung’s a bit more on the oblivious side sometimes.

“I dance!” 

Somehow, despite having not even seen what he looks like, it’s fitting. “Like… teach, or choreograph, or…”

“A little of everything,” Soonyoung tells you, and then starts elaborating. His voice echoes through your radio and you look up at the stars as you listen to him, trying to map out constellations from memory. He sounds so excited to simply talk about it, you can’t imagine what he must look like when he’s actually on stage. You hope you get to see it one day.

“You’ll have to teach me something sometime,” you say once he’s finished, voicing your thoughts. With a giggle that sounds like the stars above you, he tells you he’d love to.

A moment of quiet passes, spent focusing on the tiny specks of fireflies you see in the field around your tower and feeling the summer breeze as it passes. The words slip out of your mouth with much less resistance than you thought they would.

“I used to write,” you murmur into your radio. It takes you a moment to register the heavy beat of your heart, like you just got back from a run.

“Used to?” Soonyoung asks, curious but soft.

“For now,” you answer. The ache you’ve become familiar with throbs in your chest. “Hopefully not forever.”

It’s not the whole story - not even close - but you figure you might be able to tell him with time. The thought stresses you out even when you have nothing to stress about, and you think Soonyoung is psychic because he says, next, “the stars are really pretty tonight.”

You’re not looking at the sky when you answer. Your head is tilted in the direction of his tower. 

“They really are,” you say.

DAY THIRTY-THREE.

You’ve fallen into a bit of a routine with Soonyoung. 

Not a day goes by where you don’t talk to him - the one day you radioed and he didn’t pick up you genuinely thought something happened to him, seconds away from calling a park ranger. Right before you actually did it, though, he picked up his radio and said he had been taking a nap.

(His voice was a little groggy from sleep, sounded like he was pouting whether he meant to or not and you’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t make your heart skip a few beats - but if anyone asked, you’d definitely lie about it.)

One of you calls the other around the same time every morning and you don’t put down your radio until the sun is well behind the mountains. You’ve grown used to his presence, in a way, even if you can’t really feel him with you (though sometimes you swear you can). It’s comforting to have him out there with you, and it’s been so long since you’ve talked to someone the way you do with Soonyoung… you find yourself looking forward to every morning, waiting for when you hear him over your radio.

Today is no different.

Well, in an unrelated way, it is - you have to hike to a supply box to get your surplus of food for the next month and a half you have left. But even as you’re doing inventory of what you have left in your cabin on a piece of paper, you’re waiting for Soonyoung’s usual good morning. It comes as always, makes you smile when you hear it.

“Good morning!” 

You leave your scratch paper on your desk and reach for your radio. “Morning,” you say after you’ve pressed the button down. 

“So…” Soonyoung trails off. “Supply drop day.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sitting on your bed.

“Both of us are getting crates of food today…”

What is he getting at? “Uh-huh…?”

“Both of us… getting supplies… from the same place.”

A confused laugh leaves your lips. “Soonyoung, what is your point?”

Even for as often as you talk to him, you’re still always surprised when he starts yelling. “Let’s meet up!” he exclaims, obviously excited, and it clicks in your head.

“Oh my God, can we do that?” 

“Yeah!” Soonyoung sounds like he’s grinning, smile palpable in his voice. “If we pull some strings with the other lookouts and get hiking at the right time, it’s totally possible.”

Holy shit. Your heart is beating wildly, butterflies swarming around it at the thought of meeting Soonyoung in person. “Okay,” you tell him, noting that you sound a little breathless. “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

It takes a few minutes to work everything out - the supply boxes should be dropped off by midday, so you can leave your tower around then and get to the drop location in a little over an hour. Soonyoung has to leave earlier than you since he’s farther away, but if everything goes well the two of you should get to the drop location close to the same time, margin of error small. You radio Jihoon to cover for you while you’re out, and he agrees, although he sounds a bit miffed.

When you finally leave for your hike, you’re not expecting how quiet it is. Soonyoung’s usually there to cover it up with his voice - you don’t hike often (you’ve not had to, given your job for the summer is to watch for fires) but whenever you have he’s been there to keep you company. You plug in your earphones about halfway through your trip just to drown out the quiet, something more to listen to than just trees and the sound of your own footsteps.

Eventually you make it to the supply box, and, well. There’s a guy. Standing in front of a long, green box - you think you see lookout tower names engraved ever few inches: Thorofare, Cottonwood, Twin Peaks. Packing some ready-to-eat meals into his backpack.

Holy shit, Soonyoung? your brain automatically asks, and it sends your heart spiraling up and down. You’re not sure what you thought he looked like, but it wasn’t this. Tall, lean - wait, you don’t even know if this is actually him yet.

Before you can think too much about it, you call out, voice tentative. “Are you… Soonyoung?”

The man turns around, shakes his head with a kind smile. “No,” he says. “I’m Joshua.”

You think about throwing yourself into the river by your tower when you get back for absolutely no reason. Somehow you manage a polite smile and a gentle sorry.

“No, don’t apologize, you’re fine!” Joshua chirps, adjusting the cap on his head. “You’re looking for him?”

You pause. Those aren’t the exact words you would use, but they’re not technically wrong, so you nod. After all, you don’t know what he looks like (you probably should have asked him before both of you left, but you weren’t expecting another person to be here).

“Please don’t tell me he got lost again,” Joshua says, suddenly looking tired, and you look back at him wide-eyed because... again? Has this happened before?

“No,” you tell him. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Since we both have to pick up supplies he thought it’d be cool if we met up in person.”

Joshua sighs, seemingly relieved, then continues packing what’s left of his supplies into his backpack as he hums. “That’s weird.”

“What is?”

He shrugs. “Soonyoung likes the outdoors, yeah, but the supply box is a pretty far hike from his tower. I think the last few summers he’s had them delivered.”

Oh, you think, and maybe say out loud, because then Joshua’s looking back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. 

“He must really like you to come all the way out here,” he tells you, and you laugh like it might get rid of all the thoughts popping up in your mind that you keep telling yourself to stop thinking about.

“And yet,” you say wistfully, looking towards the horizon. “I still come second to Jihoon.”

This time Joshua laughs, a friendly sound, and the two of you fall into a playful conversation. He’s somewhat a superior of yours, though not by a far gap - as the lookout who’s been on the job the longest, he oversees the rest of you (which is you, Soonyoung, Jihoon, and a few others you have yet to come across). You get along with him easily and it’s weird to think that if you hadn’t gone through what you did a few months ago you wouldn’t be here talking to him, establishing what could be a new friendship. You wonder if that’s a new step towards healing, finding a way to be grateful even if it was horrible.

You talk to Joshua for a while until he says he should get back to his tower. You nod, tell him goodbye (and thanks for his company) and he starts to walk away -

“Shua!”

A burst of platinum blonde hair rushes past you from the opposite direction you came from, heading for Joshua. The new guy drops a bag at his feet and almost softly crashes into Joshua, who has this look on his face you can’t really decipher.

“Hey, Soonyoung,” he says, and you blink.

Soonyoung, like… your Soonyoung? The Soonyoung you’ve been talking to for weeks?

You watch as the two hug, Soonyoung excited to see Joshua and completely ignoring you (though you’re not sure he’s doing it intentionally). All you can do is stand there. This is him, your brain keeps telling you. This is the guy.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Soonyoung exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “How are you? How have things been?”

Joshua shrugs, a small smile on his face as he puts a gentle hand on Soonyoung’s head and starts… petting. “I’ve been good, same old deal. I know that you’ve been doing good too, though, as far as I’ve seen from your reports.”

Soonyoung beams at the praise and you take note of it in the back of your mind (you also note the way Joshua’s treating him like a toddler and how it’s working). He opens his mouth to say something else but looks around and meets your eyes - for a second there’s nothing at all, but then you think you see an exclamation mark actually pop above his head.

The yell of your name is so loud it makes you jump. “Oh my God,” Soonyoung whines, falling to his knees dramatically. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!”

“This is the first time you’ve seen me,” you say. You can’t seem to hold back your smile.

Joshua excuses himself (again) and finally moves on his way, says he’s in Thorofare lookout if anything happens. The sun is mellow on your skin as you look at Soonyoung, take him in - light hair, warm eyes, tan skin. His smile matches your own. A breeze shifts by, slow and sweet.

“Hi,” you say.

Soonyoung grins.

“Hey.”

-

So the bag you saw Soonyoung drop on the ground before was, in fact, for a picnic.

He didn’t bring a lot of food (the whole point of the hike was to get supply boxes anyways) aside from a few candy bars he’d saved for today. He did bring a blanket, however, and the two of you set everything up on the edge of a rock not too far away from the drop location, under some trees. It looks over a small ravine, a stream cutting through at the bottom. 

The time goes by like it was never there in the first place, spent talking and laughing. Soonyoung is just as animated in person as you thought he’d be, telling stories wildly as the two of you snack away a portion of your supplies. You know the two of you don’t have much time together, given how late it already was when Soonyoung arrived and both of your hikes back to your respective towers, but it’s still… refreshing, almost, to be with him like this, to finally get a piece of him you didn’t before. To hear him without the crackle of the radio and to see him.

To see him.

Something stirs in your chest when you look at him lying back on the blanket, arms supporting his head with his eyes closed. The sun lights up his skin in a golden glow, like honey, and the dark roots growing into his blonde hair are somehow endearing. The breath leaves your lungs when you finally label him as pretty. You hope you can blame the heat in your cheeks on the sun.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Soonyoung sighs, still not opening his eyes. You almost reach out to brush the hair away from his face, but a breeze comes by and does it for you. You hope it’s not a sign.

“It would be nice, huh,” you murmur in response. You finally break your gaze from Soonyoung and lean back on your hands, soaking up the feeling of the blue sky.

It’s now that you remember what Joshua had said earlier about Soonyoung usually getting his supplies delivered, and you turn back to him. “Hey, before you got to the supply box, Joshua and I were talking.” Soonyoung hums in acknowledgement. “Is the hike from your tower to here really that bad?”

His voice strains as he stretches, opening his eyes to look at you. “I mean, yeah, it’s a bitch of a hike to take sometimes. But it’s not really hard except for a few spots, just long.”

You furrow your brows. When you agreed to meet him, you didn’t think it’d be this much trouble for him. “And you came all this way so we could… what, sit here and eat? Like we do most of the time anyways? Just separately?”

Soonyoung pouts at you and you feel personally attacked. “Food tastes good when you’re with other people.”

You give him a soft, semi-playful glare, and Soonyoung offers a small giggle. You turn back towards the view in front of you.

“Did you not want me to come down?” He asks, and he doesn’t sound… sad, really, more observant. Like he wants to know where you’re at.

“No,” you answer almost immediately (Jesus, your brain says). “I just… it’s a long trip. It doesn’t really seem like it’s worth the effort.”

Like I’m worth the effort, you think to yourself. 

You hear Soonyoung shuffle behind you and turn around to look at him again, finding him sitting up straight. “It is to me,” he tells you, and there’s something in his eyes that holds you in your spot. The tips of his fingers brush against yours on the blanket. You’d look down if you didn’t think you’d miss something. “I wanted to.”

In a second, it clicks.

-

It’s not much longer until Soonyoung needs to start heading back. The two of you get your things together, and you help him pack up the picnic supplies he brought. When everything’s said and done and the two of you are back by the supply box, there’s a second of uncharacteristic quiet that falls over you.

“Let me know when you get back,” you say after a moment. Soonyoung grins.

“You’re worried about me!” he swoons, and you hit him on the shoulder playfully, but don’t deny it. It can be dangerous out there, and even if Soonyoung has been out here longer than you, anything can happen. 

“Just radio me, okay?”

Soonyoung smiles, something a little softer from before. He nods. “I will. You be safe too.”

You nod in return, taking a few steps back towards the trail that leads back to your tower. “Talk to you later, Hoshi.”

The last you see of him before you turn around is the grin on his face.

DAY THIRTY-FOUR.

It feels like forever since you’ve been here.

A window is open and welcomes a distant ambiance of the forest around you, trees and birds and animals. The journal you brought with you is open to the first page, but remains untouched - nothing on the pages. At least, not yet.

(The not yet you always tell yourself seems closer, this time, not so far away. Within reach, or at least within reason.)

Soonyoung had called in that the hike from yesterday had worn him out and he needed a nap. You had laughed fondly at how tired he sounded, told him to sleep well and that you’d be waiting for him. And you feel the words, right at your fingertips, the way the rest and wait to be written. Their presence is both terrifying and reassuring. 

You don’t think they’ll be able to bleed out correctly, not the way they used to since it’s been so long. But they’re there, in your mind, in your heart. 

You pick up the pen you got out, feel the weight of it as you click it a few times. You tap it on the desk once, twice, and then.

You take a deep breath and start to write.

DAY SIXTY-FOUR.

“Are you lookin’ at the fire?”

Your eyes leave the page of your book at Soonyoung’s voice crackling from the radio, looking around your cabin windows to see that, oh, there is a fire. You’d kind of forgotten that it’s… literally your job. At least there are multiple lookouts.

You fold the corner of the page you’re on as a makeshift bookmark before closing the book and setting it down on your bed as you stand to get your radio. You grab a can of soda from the mini-fridge you’ve started to utilize (as best you can, given it does a mediocre job at keeping things cool) before walking out onto the deck, sitting in one of the chairs you set up. “Now I am,” you tell Soonyoung as you adjust the chair so it faces the direction of the fire. You think you’re the closest lookout to it - which makes the fact that you didn’t notice it even worse - but not in any danger. The smoke paints the evening sky red-orange, washing over the purples and blues the sun used earlier as it set. “You’ve called it in?”

“Yeah, told Josh, who told the higher-ups,” Soonyoung responds, voice strangely… solemn? He sighs his next words. “They’ll probably send a crew in for suppression by morning.”

“Is there a reason you sound sad about putting a potentially dangerous forest fire out?” You tease, cracking open your soda and taking a sip. The carbonation feels good in your mouth, pops on your tongue.

“I’m not!” Soonyoung denies after some sputtering, and you laugh. “Just… ugh, looking at it - I’ve worked here every summer for the past, like, five years, and I’ve only ever seen two fires. Three, counting this one.” His voice gains a certain softness, like he’s lost in thought. “I don’t want the place to burn down or anything, but… don’t you think it’s kind of beautiful?”

It’s a little morally ambiguous, but as you look at the distant, licking flames you have to agree. In the dark, it’s vibrant, more than just ashy smoke and the smell of burning - it glows red, flushes out silhouettes of the trees in between it and you.

“I guess it is,” you hum into your radio as you stare at it.

“So. What should we name it?”

“The fire?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says, dramatic as always. “She needs a name! I’ve always given them names, but I’ll let you do the honor this time.”

There’s something sweet in the way he offers you the chance to name it, and you try not to dwell on it too much. “Ah,” you start, thinking for a moment. “Barbara. The Barbara Fire.”

Soonyoung howls out a laugh and it’s infectious; you feel the tugging of your lips into a grin. “That is the worst thing that has ever come out of your mouth,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “We are not naming it the Barbara Fire.”

You huff out a fake whine. “Come on, it’s just Barb! She’s beautiful.”

“But deadly,” Soonyoung adds in a voice that sounds like it came straight out of a crime documentary. It makes you giggle, the two of you throwing around silly, stupid names.

“Okay, okay,” you say after a few minutes. “Then… hmm, the Hoshi Fire.”

There’s a long, long pause, and you hold down the button to your radio again. “Uh oh, is he broken?”

Soonyoung’s voice comes through, joking, but you sense a pinch of sincerity. “You want to name a raging forest fire after me… I feel like I shouldn’t be happy but I kind of am.”

You remember to push the button as you laugh, looking directly at the fire and shouting, “I hereby dub thee… the Hoshi Fire!” as loud as you can.

After the laughter dies down, for a second, there’s quiet - not awkward or for the sake of a bit, just quiet. Soonyoung’s not telling a story, you’re not giving witty comebacks. It’s just the two of you and the fire, alone in the forest.

It breaks eventually. Soft, gentle. “I’m glad you’re out here, you know,” Soonyoung says.

His words make you stiffen and relax all at once, and almost on instinct you look in the direction of his tower. You can’t really see the silhouette - the sun too far gone, taking the last of its light with it - but you know it’s there, can pinpoint exactly where it should be. You hope Soonyoung’s looking over at you, too.

And even if the reason you’re here in the first place is still a tender bruise to be pressed, you find yourself recovering a little more every day. “I am, too,” you respond. “I… I wish you were over here.”

It’s a roundabout way to say I miss you, but a part of you thinks neither of you are ready for something that explicit. You reach a hand out in the direction of Soonyoung’s tower, grasping at it like it might bring him to you. It’s not as if you can’t meet up with him again, but… between the distance and the fact that there’s an actual fire to keep your eye on, it certainly wouldn’t be easy. This is the closest you can get for now.

“I wish I was too,” Soonyoung says. You close your eyes to picture him, pretty smile and fond eyes. “We could hang out, like last time.”

“Without the radios,” you add. 

“We could, um… you know.”

His words make you giggle, and you feel a little lucky that you’re not holding down the button. Your heart is pounding in your chest, nervous but stable, secure, as you reply. A welcomed beat, even if startling.

“No, I don’t,” you tell him. Your soda sits forgotten, half-empty, on the floor of the deck by your feet. You don’t bother paying attention to the fire. “What could we do?”

Soonyoung groans and this time you laugh pushing the button so he can hear you, warm and affectionate. “Don’t tease me! You know what I’m talking about.”

You do. “What could we do, Soonyoung?”

There’s a pause, but you know he’s still there.

“Well,” he says eventually. “Let me tell you.”

DAY SEVENTY-SIX.

The fire’s gotten big.

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised by it - it’s a wildfire, they’re not exactly easy to contain, but seeing it up close like this is vastly different from being in a city and barely even noticing the smoke. It is larger than life out here, consuming more and more of the forest each day. The last few days you’ve spent inside due to the low visibility (though it’s not as if you take a hike every day anyways). It makes you wonder if it’s safe to stay out here.

“...Hey,”  Soonyoung radios in. “I have a question for you.”

Rationally, you know whatever it is, it can’t be that serious. But your heart picks up pace anyways, beats a little harder as you pick up your radio to respond. “Look, it was Jihoon’s idea to use the fireworks, I promise neither of us knew it would start the fire.”

Soonyoung sputters out a laugh and you match him, feeling yourself calm down. “I’ll… I’ll ask Jihoon about that later, but - I really do have something to ask you.”

You lay down in your bed, unmade and messy. “Is it… bad?”

“I don’t think so,” Soonyoung responds. “Maybe?”

“Okay…” you say, timid. “Shoot.”

“When you first got here, I asked why you took the job,” he says, and you nod to yourself, remembering the first call you got from him. “You just… never really responded. I get it if it’s, like, a touchy subject, I don’t want to pressure you at all…”

“No,” you interrupt before you realize what you’re saying. You take a deep breath, Soonyoung waits. “No, it’s probably… it might be good to talk about it. I’ll tell you.”

He murmurs an okay, tells you to take your time and you do. It’s not like you’re scared to tell him - you’ve come to trust him, you know he won’t judge you for anything that happened or think any differently of you. You’re not even sure that’s why it’s hard for you to talk about - rather than any sort of outside force that might affect you, it’s more… more of a part of you that you felt you lost. It’s more coming to terms - even after these months - and going through the motions. It’s scary to talk about disconnection, especially from the one thing you loved (love?) more than anything.

“I… write,” is how you start, looking at the ceiling of your cabin as you speak. “Or wrote, maybe? I’m an author. I have a few books published. Writing is something I’ve loved since I was so young, it’s… a part of me, really. It’s special to me.

“When I finally got a manager and a publishing company and all that official stuff, I was so excited. It was like I was finally living my dream. I wrote my first book and got it published and it did really well, so my management asked me to do another, and I did. Then they asked for one after that, and I didn’t… it felt too soon, in a way. Rushed. But I guess I did it because I had to, because I figured this just came with being a writer and not everything is what you want it to be - and I didn’t want to risk losing what I had wanted almost my entire life.”

You take a moment to steady yourself, note the tremble of your fingers and take a few deep breaths. Soonyoung waits for you, patient and kind. “It went like that for a while, and I lost touch with writing. I stopped loving the only thing I knew how to love. I was so detached from it. A few months before I took this job my manager set up a press conference for me, and I… kind of… had a breakdown. At the conference. So I’m out here to run away for a second. Be away from it all.”

The quiet that follows doesn’t make you nervous, really, but you’re still waiting for a reply of any sort. Even if it’s the common oh or it’ll be okay that you got from distant friends and relatives who didn’t know what was really going on. But Soonyoung was patient with you, so you can be patient with him.

“Have you written since?” He asks after a minute, and your eyes flash over to the journal on your desk. One page has the familiar strokes and loops of your handwriting, written after you met Soonyoung in person.

“Only once,” you respond, truthful.

“When you start to write again… will you show me?”

And for some reason the question is so tender, filled to the brim with something you want to name. It makes tears spring to your eyes as you look out over the rising fire, trying not to let your voice shake too much as you reply.

(Maybe it’s because he said when and not if, maybe it’s because he didn’t tell you it’ll be okay, maybe it’s because it’s him and not someone else telling you the same thing.)

“Yeah,” you say, letting go of the button to sniff. “Yeah, I will. If you let me see one of your dances.”

You hear Soonyoung’s smile through the radio as he tells you it’s a deal.

DAY SEVENTY-EIGHT.

For the first time since you started working, someone who isn’t Soonyoung calls you through the radio (not counting the time you radioed Jihoon to make sure he was still alive, because you only saw him once and hadn’t heard from him since then). You hear the familiar click that tells you someone’s on the station, and you’re fully expecting Soonyoung’s voice to light up your cabin the way it always does. Instead, Joshua’s voice rings through.

“You there?” He asks after a comfortable call of your name, and you pick up your radio.

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s been a while,” you respond, and Joshua hums. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve… been,” he tells you, which earns a small laugh. “Anyways, I called in to let you know that they’re having trouble controlling the fire -”

You take a look at the giant flume of smoke north of your tower, nodding to yourself. “I can see that.”

Joshua tells you to be quiet. You hear the friendly smile in his voice.

“There’ll be an evacuation team here within the next two days,” he says. “Maybe less, shouldn’t be more. They’re gonna get all the lookouts evacuated.”

Oh. Evacuation? That means… the city. Your apartment, back to your family and friends. You’d forgotten an entire world exists outside of the bubble you created for yourself.

“Okay,” you say slowly, still looking at the fire. “I assume you’ve told the other lookouts?”

“I’ve got a few more to call, but other than that, yeah, everyone’s covered. I told Soonyoung and Jihoon first,” Joshua tells you, and you blink at the fact that you didn’t even have to ask. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Yeah. Stay safe, Josh.”

You sit for a while after that, trying to cope with the feeling in your chest. You… you feel better about everything, about writing, for sure, but. But. It’s cut short, even if only by a little over a week. You haven’t even started packing anything up - so much of you is strewn around the cabin, in the field around your tower, in the trees of the forest you hiked through. You don’t think you’re ready to say goodbye to the place you’ve made your home and the people (person, your heart whispers) with it. 

The sun starts to set and the fire grows. You sit on your bed and look at the things you’ve made your own, a sunken, unfinished emotion spreading through you. Eventually it is Soonyoung’s voice that comes from your radio, low and humorous.

“The Hoshi Fire can’t be stopped…” he murmurs, and you laugh despite the loss you feel. 

“Please,” you groan into your radio after you’ve grabbed it. “We’re getting evacuated!”

Soonyoung giggles, something mischievous that makes your heart warm with slow appreciation. “I can’t believe it’s ending so soon,” you say, standing up to walk around aimlessly.

“Yeah, the summer went by super fast, huh?” Soonyoung replies. “I’m kind of excited, though. I’ve missed a proper dance studio.”

That’s… oh. 

A current of mild surprise rolls through you and you think you physically feel your jaw drop, just a little. That - that hurt. More than you want it to, more than you think it should - but it’s... fine. You’ve only known Soonyoung for a few months, it’s not like…

You realize you haven’t responded and open your mouth on purpose this time. “I wish we could share the sentiment, Hoshi,” you joke, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff. 

If Soonyoung notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Only laughs, sweet and genuine. “I’m sure you’ll find something to yearn for just as I yearn for dance,” he says dramatically. You laugh, forced, because yeah, you will. Maybe you already have.

DAY EIGHTY.

Evacuation day.

Last day in your tower. Last day in the forest. Last day of the job you took to escape, to heal. It’s spent packing up the things you brought with you, throwing away everything else. Joshua said helicopters would be touching down at two points - Twin Peaks lookout and Mule Point lookout. Twin Peaks is Soonyoung’s tower, and if you planned it out right, you could probably get there and leave with him.

You tell yourself that the reason you can’t is because Mule Point is closer. Safer. They’re evacuating you for a reason.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil, you think, grabbing your radio from its charging port. “Hi.”

“So,” Soonyoung says. For the first time since you’ve known him, he seems awkward. “Evacuation day.”

“Yessir…”

“What evacuation point are you hiking to?”

You pause, hesitate like you’re about to say something you shouldn’t. “Mule Point,” you manage to get out. “It’s closer,” you say after, your brain telling you to justify it, explain.

“What did the Hoshi Fire ever do to you?” Soonyoung huffs out through a laugh, and it sounds so unaffected that you feel that ache from before again. After a second, he adds, “so… this’ll be the last we talk. At least for a while.”

That realization hits you like a brick and the sting behind your eyes seems normal - regardless of whatever was built between you and Soonyoung or what lead you out here in the first place, it’s so sad that it’s ending. “Yeah,” you say quietly. Everything is packed, you just need to get hiking. “I, um. Is it cheesy to say thank you?”

“Maybe,” Soonyoung chuckles. “But it’ll also make me feel really good, so…”

You feel yourself calm down and let out your own small giggle. Maybe it was always meant to end this way, a little too soon, a little too sad. “Really… thanks, Soonyoung. I think it would’ve been worse for me if I got the silence I came out here for. I’m glad I had you to talk to.”

“Thank you, too,” Soonyoung says back. “I hope… you write again. I’ll talk to you later.”

The mention of it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, and you feel the smallest of smiles on your lips. “Yeah. Later.”

The radio clicks off and that’s the last you hear from Soonyoung.

EPILOGUE.

It’s hard to come back.

From nature, from Soonyoung - everything, really. To go from trees and fires and talking every night back to car horns, busy sidewalks and your own apartment. It’s weird to wake up and not see the immediate shine of the sun through your windows. But you come back, slowly get used to the life you had before.

And you start writing.

Given - you get back in August only start writing again in October, but you write. Little by little, page after page. Maybe not every day, like you used to, but the words are back and they are eager to get out, leave their mark as your work. You stand up to your management (with Minghao’s support) and take control of your own writing schedule. The pressure from before leaves. Writing becomes special more than ever, returns as the one thing you never get truly tired of.

Minghao asks about the job, your summer. You tell him it was easy and peaceful, and that you’re thankful for the time. You mention the other lookouts. You mention Soonyoung. Only in passing, though. 

(Minghao definitely suspects something, but even if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him much.)

Sometimes you allow yourself to think of him - when you got back, you looked for a Soonyoung in the multiple dance studios in the city, but since you didn’t have a last name or any proper title, nothing came up. After that, you gave up, but he still shows up in your thoughts from time to time, bright blonde hair (the roots growing in) and glowing smile. It’s cold out, now, so you hope he isn’t getting sick and that he’s staying warm.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is when you have to brace the outside world to get your mail. There’s not even any wind, just an undeniable cold, and it makes your nose burn and eyes water as you walk the short trek to your mailbox. You find your slot and push your key in, unlocking it and gathering your mail. Most of it is junk, but you could have sworn something you ordered was supposed to come today -

“Excuse me?”

You turn your head to the voice and find a man walking towards you, his head turned down towards a small piece of paper. His voice sounds familiar, but you figure it must just be a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in a while. You turn your body to him, waiting for him to look up from the note so you can place a name on him. “Do you know where I can find an author…”

He looks up.

It’s Soonyoung.

He looks a little different - his hair is shorter, dyed black instead of the platinum you remember from last July. But it’s definitely him. The longer you stare at each other the wider his smile gets, and you stand, speechless. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world. Your heart starts to race, warms you up beneath your jacket.

“Found you,” Soonyoung grins. You can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “You did.”

[tirednotflirting]

happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time

a day late on getting this here but!!! some bday jalex i wrote for @reveriesofawriter​‘s bday! sticking to our all taylor is jalex brand, it’s a 22 fic :) 

kinda fits within the marble mansion wus writing universe that my pretty venom fic is in if you want more of these boys (they’re quite sweet i think)

here this is on ao3 if that’s more ur jam x

Alex is a planner. 

Early on, being a frontman meant he was the first person anyone trying to coordinate band things reached out to, and as time went on, he embraced the role. He likes organizing and keeping track of the who and when and where of it all. He likes the sticky notes and his planner and the dry-erase board he keeps on his fridge for lists. He likes knowing what is coming next.

Alex never meant to fall in love with his best friend. He never planned on Jack.

They’ve reached the point where they should probably have an adult conversation about whatever it is that’s going on between them. Honestly they probably reached that point half a decade ago, but Alex knows neither of them was ready for it then. He wonders if they’re really both ready now. He knows he is. But it scares him a little to think about what happens if the other involved party isn’t.

That conversation and what it might sound like is what Alex is thinking about as he watches the end of the sunset over the desert from the edge of the pool at the house they’re renting. He lets a wine glass dangle from his fingers, the last few sips of his pink wine swirling around the bottom. His feet slowly swing in the warm water to avoid splashing over the edge. For someone whose job it is to come up with words for feelings, he finds himself struggling with where to even begin. He wonders if that should feel significant.

He’s draining the last of his wine when he hears the back door slide open and feet pad over the stone in his direction. Just as he’s about to question who’s come to join him, the visitor sits behind him and legs drop to frame his body. Alex leans back into Jack’s chest and breathes in the scent of his cologne mixing with the nighttime air. Jack’s arms wrap around Alex and the mess of thoughts trying to piece together the conversation to be had word by word fades off to the back of Alex’s mind.

“What are you doing out here?” Jack asks, his lips brushing against Alex’s neck. Probably against his tattoo. Jack’s always particularly fond of pressing his lips there.

“Just finishing my wine,” Alex says, and lifts the empty glass as evidence. “Wanted to watch the sunset, too. Don’t think I’m ever going to want to say goodbye to this view.”

“You should get a house out here someday,” Jack says as he rocks them back and forth a little. Alex leans further into his chest. “This place has your vibes and the stars look really sick out here.”

Alex smiles at Jack thinking of his astronomy habits. “I like the way you think,” he agrees before turning to stand. “Is it time we go in and join the pregame?” 

Jack lifts a hand to be helped up and elects to keep holding Alex’s hand as they head in the direction of the door. “Why do you think I came out to find you?”

“I’m sorry,” Alex says as they approach the door, a blush painting across his cheeks. “Was just a little bit stuck in my head, trying to figure something out. Didn’t mean to leave the birthday boy waiting.”

Jack smiles and drops Alex’s hand before he reaches for the door handle. They’re in the desert in June, but Alex immediately misses the warmth. The two of them so easily gravitate physically toward one another when they’re together but they don’t hold hands in group settings. The way Alex wishes they did starts the spiral of words again. “Let me know if you need any help figuring whatever it is out?” Jack says as a worried look takes over his features.

Alex never wants to worry him, so he drops a hand to Jack’s back to guide him inside. He lets his answer to Jack’s question mix into a smile. Others in the living room grab Jack for shots. He shoots Alex a look as a lime is placed between his fingers; Alex points in the direction of the stairs and mouths need to change as he heads off. A smaller smile pulls at Jack’s lips as he nods and turns the rest of the group whining for him to join in. 

Alex takes a deep breath before making his way out of the room and only lifts his brows to acknowledge the knowing look from Rian as he climbs the stairs.

*

The club is loud. Alex isn’t sure why he always expects them not to be, but the sounds in his environment accompanied by the buzzing in his mind is almost overwhelming. 

He’s just grabbed another drink and when he gets back to the table their group has claimed for the night, Jack is sitting on the tabletop, his legs swinging as he talks to a couple of girls. Alex smirks as he watches Jack lift up the birthday sash someone had shown up with for him before they left the house (it’s pink and says I’m 21 Today! in sequins). The girls laugh before they wave and disappear into the crowd. Jack turns and his eyes brighten when they fall to Alex.

He scoots closer to where Alex sits and leans in. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing at the cup Alex has just come back with. 

Alex raises the drink in front of his face and frowns as his tipsy mind forgets whatever the drink was called. “Uh, pink?”

“Lemme try,” Jack says and plucks the cup from between Alex’s fingers. Alex hadn’t planned to argue with the request but he can practically hear Jack’s voice reciting the statement Alex has heard probably hundreds of times over the years: You can’t say no during birthweek.

Jack takes a sip and then leaves the cup beside him on the table. He nods thoughtfully for a moment before leaning back in so Alex can hear him. “You’re right, it tastes very pink.”

Alex laughs but before he can respond Jack is moving to sink into the seat beside him and his head drops to Alex’s shoulder. “Are clubs busier than they used to be? Feel like I can’t breathe in here,” he whines. Alex agrees, though he was ready to just blame it on their age. “Where are Rian and Zack?”

“They were talking to some girls at the bar, I think,” Alex explains. “Rian told one of them he’s a drummer and she basically melted, it was hilarious.”

“You think anyone in here has even heard an All Time Low song before?” Jack asks, his tone indicating he’s reached the kind of happy drunk where every thought that comes to mind has to leave his lips. 

“Maybe ‘Dear Maria’?” Alex offers as he drops his arm to rest against Jack’s back. His fingers trace lazy patterns against the soft fabric of his t-shirt. Jack hums but he doesn’t sound convinced.

Jack nuzzles his face into Alex’s neck and Alex hears him sigh. “Hey Alex?”

“Yeah?” Alex replies while his eyes track one of the bright lights circling around the room over the crowd on a dance floor.

Jack lifts his head up and throws Alex big brown puppy eyes. He can tell Jack’s about to ask him something and before he’s even heard the question he already knows his answer will be yes. He’s never been able to say no to Jack. 

“Can we leave?”

Alex laughs. “Thought birthweek had no time for quitters?” he jokingly asks, recalling something Jack yelled across the room at Zack when he tried turning down shots the night before.

“Please?” Jack asks. “It’s loud and I want a snack.”

“Anything for the birthday boy,” Alex replies with a nod. Jack smiles again at the response. “Thought I saw a diner down the road. Late night breakfast?”

“God, you’re the best.”

Jack slides out of the booth as Alex reaches for the jacket he shed shortly after they arrived. While they head toward the doors that lead out to the street, Alex sends a message to the group text (The BoyDay Boys) to let the crew know they’re headed off.

The nighttime air is cool when they step out onto the street. Alex can’t remember which direction they’re meant to head so he pauses once they’re out of the way of the entrance to the club and pulls out his phone again to figure out where they’re going. 

Another cool breeze blows down the street and Jack leans in closer to Alex’s side in response. It’s a frequent habit of his, the way he’s always trying to share Alex’s warmth. If Alex were a little more tipsy he probably would just wrap his arms around Jack’s waist as he leads them in the direction of the diner he’s successfully located. But he’s a little bit too self-aware for that at the moment so he elects to let Jack continue to lean into his side as they head down the street. 

They pass couples walking in the opposite direction, their fingers tangled or lips pressing together without a care in the world. Alex finds he feels something in the realm of jealousy, though he’s not sure that’s the right thing to call it. Loneliness, maybe? He knows he should just say something, just see if there’s any chance at all that Jack feels the same way about figuring out what the hell they are. But it’s been so easy to just teeter the line of something for as long as they have. Alex doesn’t want to scare him away by considering the idea of throwing a label on it. Every time he explains it to Rian like that when he asks, Alex is told he’s being ridiculous and have you seen the way he looks at you, Alex?, but the fear in the back of his mind won’t budge.

The line they tightrope across is confusing, Alex thinks. But even so, he’s not unhappy. Maybe this is just the way they’re meant to be. Confusing but happy. Alex could be okay with that.

It’s a short walk to the diner and Jack chats to Alex most of the way there about some party he went to the previous week. There had been a petting zoo for some unknown reason. Alex listens to Jack describe the animals he got to pet and the kitten that tried stealing some of his White Claw. Soon enough they reach the door and push through to inside, a tiny bell jingling over their heads as they enter. 

Someone behind the counter tells them they can seat themselves, that they’ll come find them in a minute for their drink orders. Jack wanders to a booth in the back of the room and Alex follows him. He waits to let Jack pick a side and slides into the one opposite him. A clock on the wall tells Alex it’s just past midnight, meaning Jack’s actual birthday has just finished. The celebrations should continue for another day or two.

A waitress comes to take their drink orders and they ask for a couple waters and a couple coffees and then they’re alone again. Jack squints his eyes down at the menu while Alex glances around the diner, ignoring the butterflies stirring whenever their knees knock together below the table and neither of them make any effort to move. 

The entire scene has waves of nostalgia crashing all around Alex. It’s a pretty regular event during Jack’s birthday celebrations that he and Alex slip away from the rest of the group to catch a moment of something more tranquil during all the crazy of the week-long party. 

It had become something Alex looked forward to every year. Usually when Jack’s birthday fell during a break from touring or between cycles, they would just go for a drive. Jack would find whatever couch or bed Alex had passed out on and pull him from sleep to go watch the sunrise or the sunset (his body clock was always thrown completely off balance during birthweek). 

He’d usually want to go to the beach. Jack would play navigator and call out directions to whichever beach involved the least amount of traffic to get to, in a voice rough both from sleep and from screaming along to Top 40 hits in karaoke bars and clubs around LA. Once there, they would walk all the way out to the water and let little waves splash against their ankles as the sun rose higher and higher or sunk lower and lower. Eventually Jack would smile and nod toward the Pacific and sigh a deep breath of salty air and that would be the cue that he was satisfied with the experience. They usually would end up at a diner like the one they’re at right now, sipping coffee with tired eyes and laughing over pancakes.

It’s probably a two hour drive to the coast from where they currently sit but if Jack had asked to go to the beach, Alex would have gotten him there without a second thought.

Jack moves so their long legs are all tangled together below the table, and it breaks Alex out of the nostalgic place he’d been transported to for a moment. He looks up to meet Jack’s tired, happy gaze. Alex raises his eyebrows in a silent question and a gleeful smile pulls across Jack’s cheeks.

“Do you think they’d put sprinkles in my pancakes if I tell them it’s my birthday?”

That’s when it hits Alex head on, like a dart hitting the bullseye. They walk a tightrope but there’s always been a net to catch them if need be just below their feet the whole time. The look Rian’s been trying to convince him to see for years is staring back from the other side of the booth, and it says everything in the most plain but beautiful way possible. It’s the same smile Jack would give to the Pacific just after the sun had set over the city of stars. Alex breaks into a quiet laugh and wonders if he’s ever not been in love with this sunshine of a boy sitting in front of him.

(They do put sprinkles in the pancakes. Rainbow ones. And add whipped cream and a candle too.)

*

It’s close to 1AM by the time they pay the check and head back out into the early morning desert air. They had enough water and coffee that they’re pretty much sober now. The moon shines bright down onto them as they stand in front of the diner, unsure of where to head next. 

“Want to take a walk?” Alex asks while pointing down a more quiet part of the street in the opposite direction they came from. 

“Sounds nice,” Jack agrees, and motions for Alex to lead the way.

They start down the sidewalk and let the nighttime noises play as their soundtrack for a few minutes. Jack breaks the silence to tell the story of something his mom told him about when he called her a couple days ago and at some point in the middle of the tale, he reaches for Alex’s hand and threads their fingers together so their joined hands swing between them. Alex continues listening as he looks down, and there’s some tiny part of his brain that tries to start making another set of pros and cons lists, but then he shakes the thought away and stops walking. 

Jack glances back with a confused look when he feels the pull on his arm. “What is it, Al?”

Alex lets out a sigh as he looks back and forth between their hands and the look on Jack’s face. The words fall from his lips before he can even process them fully. “Jack, I really like you.”

The look of confusion fades into something more stunned as Jack takes a step closer to him. “What?” he asks in a quiet voice, like he’s worried that speaking too loudly might shatter the moment that Alex’s confession just created.

“I really like you,” Alex says and reaches over to pull Jack in at the waist. “I like you in the want to show you off and kiss you until our friends groan and introduce you as my boyfriend at parties kind of way. I want to hold your hand when we walk back inside after watching the sunset like the cheesy idiots we are.”

For a moment he just watches Jack nod before a smile brighter than the full moon overhead pulls across Jack's face. He lets his arms wrap around Alex's neck and pulls him close enough that their foreheads touch. “I like you, too. So much. I might love you, I think, but that feels like a really big word,” Jack says back, in a voice still just above a whisper. “I could never come up with the words to say that until right now.”

Alex doesn’t realize he’s tearing up until Jack moves to cup Alex’s cheek, his thumb running across his cheekbone just in time to swipe away a tear. “God, we’re stupid. You’d think we of all people would know to just let the words come to us.”

Jack shakes his head and pouts. “Hey, you’re the veteran songwriter here. I'm still new enough to this that I have an excuse.”

“Shut up,” Alex laughs, and then he leans closer to press their lips together. Jack adjusts to cup his hand around Alex's other cheek as Alex's grip on his waist tightens. It’s not even fireworks and confetti like Alex had imagined it would be. They laugh against each other’s lips between kisses and it’s just them. When Alex pulls away and tucks his face into Jack's neck, his lips pressing lazily against the triangles inked into Jack's skin, he feels peace. Holding Jack feels like coming home or a deep breath of the cool ocean air just after sunset. He feels like what Alex always imagined love to feel like. 

*

Somehow they still beat everyone else back to the house. Their giggles echo off the halls as they kick their shoes off before heading up the stairs, one of them stopping the other every so often for another kiss.

They make it up the stairs eventually and Alex drags Jack in the direction of his room. Alex only whines for a moment when Jack pulls away because Well, you want me to brush my teeth, don’t you? When Jack returns Alex is changed and going through his own routine in the bathroom. When he glances out through the open door to the bedroom, Jack has already claimed his side of the bed and is looking at him across the room, a lazy smile pulling across his face.

“What?” Alex asks as he turns off the tap and shuffles over to lean against the doorway.

Jack shrugs. “Nothing.”

“What’s that look for then?” Alex asks. Jack sits facing towards him, his temple resting against the headboard. He’s changed into sweats and a tank Alex is pretty sure was swiped from his own closet. It’s stretched and worn enough that it’s falling off of Jack’s tattooed shoulder. If Alex could pick one image to look at for the rest of his life, this one would certainly be in the running.

“I think I’m just glad we kind of figured this out a bit,” Jack replies. 

“Well, I’m pretty sure if I went another day without saying something, Rian would have threatened to tell you himself and I think we’re just a little bit too old to be having our friends communicate our feelings for us.”

“Yeah, maybe a little bit,” Jack laughs as he slides beneath the sheets. Alex hits the light in the bathroom and pads across the room. He hears the front door open and close downstairs followed by laughter, signalling the rest of their crew has arrived home. As he listens to the quiet conversations happening on the first floor, he crawls into bed and drops his head on the pillow beside where Jack rests with his hand holding up his head. Alex drops an arm around Jack’s waist and pulls him closer.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to sleep when I feel like I’m dreaming,” Alex says while Jack turns to shut the lamp off.

“Alex, I adore you, but that was the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said and your exhaustion is showing,” Jack says with a laugh before pressing his lips to Alex’s temple. “I’ll still be right here in the morning.”

“Will you remind me of all of the cheesy things I said tonight?”

“For as long as you’ll let me,” Jack replies. He drops his head against the pillow and smiles up at Alex.

“I’m holding you to that,” Alex says. He presses a kiss to the tattoos on Jack’s shoulder he’d been admiring from the doorway before moving to settle his head against his chest. 

As he lets his tired eyes fall shut while settling against Jack, Alex is surprised that the swirling mix of words in his head he’s become accustomed to isn’t there. He’s used to his mind still trying desperately to plan out whatever needs to come next even as he falls asleep. But as Jack tucks an arm around his waist and drifts closer to sleep, Alex decides maybe he’s alright with not knowing what comes next so long as they stay like this.

*

[pricemarshfield]

the darker side

A Deckerstar canon divergence fic, diverging after season 3. The sequel to can we surrender?. Chapter 7/10; blood of the convenant. Read on AO3 here, or the full fic here.

Dan barely manages to make it through ten seconds of explanation--a note in Ella's lab, Kinley spotted on one of the precinct's security feeds, some blood they're rushing through testing--before Charlotte's gotten the judge to call a recess and they're rushing out of the courtroom. Lucifer's eyes aren't bright red, but there's the slightest gleam to it that just doesn't look right.

"Dan, what does the note say?" Chloe asks. Lucifer's taking them farther away from the car, which Chloe would question if she didn't trust his reactions and opinions as much as she does.

"It says Uriel," Dan says, and when Chloe relays that to Lucifer, he closes up even further, expression as distant as it was back when they first met without the mask of amusement and debauchery for it to hide behind.

"I know where to go," Lucifer says. "Dete--Chloe. It's almost certainly a trap."

"Well, obviously," Chloe says. "But it's--Ella, I'm not exactly going to leave her with a murderous psychopath!"

Charlotte groans. "Ugh. Give me the address."

"Charlotte, much I appreciate your willingness to help Ella--"

"I'm not stepping into a deathtrap, thank you, but I can call backup. For Kinley at least, not your--you know."

Chloe shrugs. It can't hurt, probably. Lucifer recites an address off, some street Chloe's never heard of, and then holds his hands out for her to carry. Oh. They're off behind the courthouse, where there aren't any cameras or passersby, so she jumps into his arms and he brings out his wings.

Charlotte stares at him for a second before shaking off the trance. "Save Ella. And don't die." (In that order goes unspoken. Charlotte likes them all well enough, but Dan and Ella certainly take precedence for her.)

Flying is a unique experience. It's a little like riding a motorcycle (or sitting in a convertible that's going way, way too fast, she thinks wryly). The wind's cold and cutting but invigorating all-at-once, and while she knows they're going faster than a plane, Lucifer's arms are grounding enough that she doesn't feel unsafe. If she were just a bit braver, if the circumstances weren't so dire, she'd open her eyes to check out the view.

Lucifer sounds completely normal when he talks, as though the wind isn't affecting him at all. The closer she gets to him, the more she notices these little--quirks, the things that mark him as not-quite-human. "Pierce told me Michael had attempted to make a deal with him, but that he wasn't--and I'm quoting here, certainly not my personal opinion--that he wasn't stupid enough to do something that would harm someone he would feel guilty about."

"Ella," Chloe guesses, eyes still screwed shut. "What did the note mean? Uriel? Is that one of your brothers?" Lucifer's the only thing she's touching right now, and at every point of contact, he tenses. "We don't have to talk about it."

"He was," Lucifer says, and the wind stops all at once. Chloe opens just the one eye, sees that they've come to a stop in front of some old, abandoned church.

"I'm sorry," she says, because she's not sure what else there is to say. He lowers his arms, bringing her to the ground gently. She puts one hand to her hip; good, still armed. She gets the feeling she might need that.

Lucifer barks out a laugh, no humor in it at all. "Detective, I don't deserve your sympathies." Chloe frowns, immediately wanting to refute it, anxiety over Ella beating a too-quick rhythm in her chest. "Another time, then."

His eyes flare red, a grin she's never seen before on his face, not even when he had a blade to Pierce's throat. She should hate it.

But hey, going after Ella? Kinley's got it coming.

Lucifer walks in first, holding the door open for her. When he looks further in, the grin doesn't drop at all, but the line of his shoulders tenses even further. "Kinley."

"Is Chloe Decker with you?" asks Kinley. Lucifer's gaze flicks to her, which seems to be answer enough. "Excellent. Would you both come in, please?"

Chloe, safety already off, takes a few steps in. Ella's sitting in one of the pews, and Chloe can't see her face at all from the entryway. She can see the line of red dripping down her face, and if she couldn't see the gleam of silver in Kinley's hand, no amount of firearm safety training would have stopped her from shooting him.

Kinley doesn't look half as ready to fight as Lucifer, but Lucifer can't stop time, and Ella's so close to him. From a tactical standpoint, what they should be doing is trying to deescalate until a sniper can get a shot But no one will be here for awhile, even if Charlotte can convince someone to send as many cars as possible without any calls in or reasoning as to why. (Yeah, our criminal ex-lieutenant prayed to your consultant about it, so we can definitely trust that.)

"I want you to know," he says. "That I wish it hadn't come to this. Especially not for you." That last part is directed to Ella, who shudders just a little. There's a low growl in Lucifer's chest, distinctly inhuman, low enough that Chloe almost misses it. Kinley doesn't, standing further up. "And that I am doing this for the greater good."

"You're doing this because you're Michael's lapdog," Lucifer says.

Kinley nods enthusiastically. Jesus Christ. "What could be more for the greater good than enacting the will of heaven?"

"Hurting innocent people is the will of heaven? Believers, nonetheless?"

Kinley's arm doesn't shake, no doubt flickers across his face, but his tone isn't quite so firm. "To stop further evil from being unleashed upon the world? Yes. My life--a hundred lives!--would be worth that."

"Oh, zealots," Lucifer says. "There'll be so much to work with in Hell for you."

Chloe's gut twists at that, but she's sure to keep her face calm. It's not as though he doesn't deserve it, right? "Look, we're here. Let Ella go."

"Not until I explain," Kinley says. "There is a prophecy--"

"A prophecy?" Ella says with a little laugh, startling Chloe. Her voice is weak, thready, and Chloe hopes Charlotte had the good sense to call EMS, too. "Something else I don't know about?" What? "I don't..."

Her voice trails off, and Lucifer exchanges a worried glance with Chloe. It's a strange look with his eyes still bright red.

"Yes, Ella," says Kinley, and God, this would be awful for Chloe, hearing someone take that kindly, helpful tone in this context, but Ella--in a church, held at knifepoint by a priest? Jesus. "When the Devil walks the Earth--"

Lucifer starts to inch closer, silent and subtle enough that Chloe wouldn't notice at all if she weren't standing so close to him. Now, with Kinley's focus on Ella, he doesn't seem to be at all aware. Chloe wants to run forwards herself, but she's not half as quiet, and she can do more from a distance with this firearm than worth risking the liability of being in knife range.

"--and finds his first love, evil shall be released," he finishes, tone imbuing it with the weight of all his convictions. "So you see why I had to intervene!"

"And I assure you," Lucifer says. "That Miss Lopez has nothing to do with any of that kind of love whatsoever."

"Of course not!" Kinley says. "But I needed you both here. I needed--you to understand, Chloe. That Lucifer cannot be here. That the balance of the world itself depends on it."

Chloe couldn't give less of a shit about the balance of the world right now, especially when Lucifer doesn't look any more nervous at the mention of it than he does at Ella's fucking kidnapping. "We're here now," she tries. "Let her go."

"And let Lucifer fly you both away?" Kinley shakes his head. "I'm sorry. He needs to return to Hell."

Lucifer doesn't laugh or make any other snarky comment, which is a testament to the danger he must feel. "And why not have Michael attempt to take me there himself? Have his wings failed as well?"

"How dare you disrespect--"

Kinley rears back, just enough that the knife isn't so close to Ella, and Chloe takes the shot, hitting him in the meat of his shoulder--it'll disable the arm, hurt like hell, push him back enough for Lucifer to move, quicker than the eye can see, and shove him against the wall, stone cracking with the force of it. Ella throws her hands over her head, but gets up when Chloe yells for her to run.

"How dare I?" Lucifer says, voice low enough that it shouldn't be carrying all the way to the other end of the church like this. "You kidnap and hurt an innocent here, of all places, and you think my father would want anything to do with this?"

"I'm--" Kinley's voice barely carries, sounds choked. "I--"

"Lucifer," Chloe says, putting the safety back on. "This isn't--"

"This is, Detective," Lucifer snarls. "According to this vile waste of oxygen, I'm the evil that's waiting to be released anyway, so why not direct it at someone truly worth of Hell?"

His skin cracks, Kinley's face lit up with firelight from Lucifer's devil face emerging. Chloe's heart thuds heavy in her chest, but she forces herself through it. This is Lucifer, it's fine, if she self-actualized her rage right now she's sure she wouldn't look pretty too. Ella bolts out the door behind her--one long cut on her forehead, bleeding a lot but that's normal for face wounds, doesn't look too deep, a black eye. She still doesn't hear sirens, doesn't see red and blue flashing lights coming to the rescue.

Just her, the Devil, and a man who might honestly be worthy of hell. But they can't--she can't work like that. He has to be proven guilty--it's not like they don't have the evidence for it, especially with Ella's testimony--in a court of law, and then he'll serve his sentence.

As for after that sentence ends--well, then it's Hell's business.

"We don't even know if that prophecy means anything," Chloe tries, and Kinley drops, just a little, Lucifer loosening his grip, not dropping him entirely. The sound of Kinley's rattling breath is not as reassuring as it should be. "And how would killing him do anything but prove him right? Besides, we need to know how he found out about this, and how Michael got involved." Lucifer's still for a long, difficult moment, Kinley's inhales still labored. But then he drops him, the priest collapsing to the floor, unable to support his own weight. Chloe exhales. "Okay. Okay."

Lucifer's face is his own, expression dark but eyes--well, also dark, actually, no longer glowing red. The beginnings of a bruise are already forming around Kinley's throat, and Chloe--can't bring herself to care too much.

"You should check on Miss Lopez," Lucifer says after a long beat. "I swear I won't harm Kinley physically until you return."

Chloe, halfway out the door of the church, pauses. "Or harm him in other ways, right?"

Lucifer doesn't say anything.

"Lucifer."

"Fine, full Hippocratic oath standards," he says, petulant like a kid who just got told he couldn't get an extra candy bar at the store. The corner of her mouth quirks up in a smile involuntarily; it's a ridiculous situation, but Lucifer's never anyone but himself, and that's reassuring in its own way.

Outside the front door of the church, the California air's hot like  a hairdryer against the face. LA isn't usually too bad, but she's dressed for court, not being in the middle of nowhere, LA County. "Ella?"

"Here," she hears, in the shakiest, least-cheerful she's ever heard Ella. It sounds like it's from the other side of the church, probably where the shadow is, and Chloe heads over, sits down by Ella, who's hunched in the ground holding her knees, looking younger than Chloe can remember.

"Hey," Chloe says, gently putting a hand on Ella's shoulder, and Ella leans into her. There's tear tracks on her face. "Are you okay?"

"Definitely!" Ella says, though the hitch in her breath isn't exactly convincing. Chloe shifts the hand on her shoulder to around both her shoulders, tugging her in closer. "What's a killer priest working with an archangel! Who my grandma has a little statue of! By the way! It doesn't look like him at all!"

Chloe waits. Sometimes the best thing to do after a traumatic situation is to just let them talk it out. Granted, none of her handbooks or training have advice on this specific situation, but she's used to trusting her gut in situations like this, anyway, and she's not sure what she'd say.

"And--I don't--I thought he'd be like Amenadiel, you know? Sort of, like, wow! That's an angel! But he just--talked? And he doesn't act like Lucifer at all, and his power is--God."

"Lucifer told me Michael's power is fear," Chloe says quietly.

Ella tenses further. "And you didn't want to share that with me?"

"I--"

"I mean, what else are you keeping from me?" Ella pushes her away, glaring. "If you didn't think it was important to mention that--"

"Ella, I really didn't realize we hadn't," Chloe tries, hands up in a conciliatory gesture. Ella looks pissed; it's not something she'd ever expected to see, let alone directed at her. "I'm sorry."

Ella holds the glare for a beat longer before she relaxes, tearing up again. "Sorry. I just--sorry. He was just talking, I don't know what's gotten into me."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up," Chloe says, holding up her arms again. Ella leans right into the hug this time. (Damn, she gives great hugs.) "We're up against people who can get in our head, it's not your fault that they managed to for a second."

"Right, yeah," Ella says. "Stupid. Sorry."

"Not stupid," Chloe says. "Seriously."

Backup arrives, finally, and Chloe waves at them from the shadow. Someone brings over a shock blanket that Ella wraps around her shoulders right away before her nose wrinkles and she says, "Way too hot for this, actually, but can I get some water?" The unis, most of whom know Ella by reputation if not personally, oblige as quickly as they can. Kinley gets brought out in handcuffs, and Chloe's arm tightens around Ella. He doesn't look over once. He doesn't look insane like Jimmy Barnes either, but she hadn't expected Lucifer to break his word.

"We should probably get you to the hospital," Chloe says after the car with Kinley pulls away.

"It's a face wound, they just bleed a lot," Ella mumbles.

"Okay, and if I was the one who went through something this rough and had a head wound, you would say--?"

Ella groans. "I mean, of course I'd already be halfway to the hospital with you in my passenger seat. Fiiiine." She's not quite back to herself--her smile's weak and her stance is shaky--but the glimpse of normal Ella makes Chloe's grin back entirely genuine.

Lucifer doesn't lie, which means that Chloe's gotta be thinking about how to explain how they got here even as she helps Ella to another one of the cars. Dan's tip? There's no way they'd make it this far from the courthouse without Lucifer's wings. A C.O? (She thinks about Diana, who was found in a place as out-of-the-way as this, and the stab of guilt isn't easier the seventieth time around.) There's still the possibility that people will ask questions, but Ella's testimony should help their case. It's not as though they actually did anything wrong.

Lucifer steps out of the church, entirely confident as though he hadn't just almost crushed a man's windpipe with a single hand. Something in Chloe's gut twists, just a little, and she berates herself for it as she walks over to him. It's not his fault he had to rule over Hell for thousands upon thousands of years, and she'd had her moments of wanting a quicker justice than the courts, too. (She'd pointed a gun at her dad's killer, and known how easy it would be to pull the trigger even if it weren't for Maze and Lucifer both egging her on.)

"I see you kept your word," Chloe says, thankful that it comes out teasing and not relieved.

"Always," he says, offense probably only half-played up, and she takes his hand. He squeezes it once, as if to ground himself. She smiles, and squeezes back. "Is there a place we can duck out of sight of all the unis? Just for a moment?"

"Lucifer, I've told you, not at crime sce--"

"Give me some credit," he says, though the way he looks down at her shows it's not too far from his mind. "I wanted to explain who Uriel was."

Oh. She hadn't been expecting that for--honestly, months, if previous secrets are anything to go by. Her surprise has to show on her face, since Lucifer's expression shutters, and she starts to pull him back towards the shaded part of the church while the unis case the scene. "Sure. Let's go."

As soon as they're out of sight, she drops his hand, leans back against the wall, and asks, "So what happened?"

"Right," Lucifer says, and as he opens his mouth to say something, she hears the same voice call, "Detective!" from further away. Fuck, she should've been more careful, she's not--

Michael moves to grab her, and her gun would be useless against an angel even if she wasn't way too close. Still, she has to try, so she reaches for her holster, manages to get the gun out when Michael grabs her, tries to knock it out of her hand. Then she's flying, eyes squeezed shut, the invigorating air from before terrifying now that the person carrying her isn't safe.

But he's not quite so careful as Lucifer, and she manages to tuck it into the back of her pants without him noticing. She's not sure what good it'll do, but it's something. Hopefully he'll assume she did drop it, hopefully she makes him vulnerable too (gross, but would be very helpful), hopefully, hopefully, hopefully.

Lucifer, if you can hear me, she prays, and then there's an intense pain at the back of her head, and she falls unconscious.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

hello hi! if ur ever looking for ideas/prompts for spidey stuff i have an idea i've wanted to see but havent really yet: i have a sensory processing disorder so i personally always really connect w spidey when fics talk about him kind of having sensory issues, but they almost always only talk about getting too much sensory input. which is super valid! but a lot of people also have issues w not enough sensory input (i have issues w both! its gotta be a balance). (pt. 1 bc i talk to much)

(pt. 2 bc i talk too much) not having enough sensory input still needs grounding techniques and stuff! i know for me i'll start kind of pulling my hair, scratching too violently, etc. and then my service pup will lick my face to replace harmful sensory cravings with safe ones! i just feel like this might be interesting to see w peter and the avengers trying to give him safer/better sensory input bc it might be cute. totally no pressure though! just thought i'd yell this idea into the void

Oh god never apologize for talking too much! I love this idea, thanks so much for the request. Funny story, as I was reading I was just like...wait not everyone does this??? So...thanks for helping me realize things!

Just Right

Read it on Ao3

Warnings: descriptions of a meltdown, sensory deprivation (kinda), some self-injury

Pairings: none. found family is my shit

Word count: 2667

If you could see Peter’s lab in Stark Tower or the Avengers Compound, you’d wonder if it’s some mad-scientist abomination or a storage room gone crazy.

There are screens upon screens upon screens, little things scattered across almost every available surface, and even ones that aren’t technically available. There are haphazardly balanced books and sheets of metal and overflowing trash cans and more random trinkets scattered around than you can think of. And yet, Peter knows precisely where everything is.

Organized chaos. Entropy. There’s some scientific explanation for it.

Peter works in a state of 'a lot.' There's a reason for that, and a reason it's a bad idea for him to not have that.

If you could see Peter’s lab in Stark Tower or the Avengers Compound, you’d wonder if it’s some mad-scientist abomination or a storage room gone crazy.

There are screens upon screens upon screens, little things scattered across almost every available surface, and even ones that aren’t technically available. There are haphazardly balanced books and sheets of metal and overflowing trash cans and more random trinkets scattered around than you can think of. And yet, Peter knows precisely where everything is.

Organized chaos. Entropy. There’s some scientific explanation for it.

Even Tony, the resident doer-of-so-many-things, is baffled when he walks in to see Peter looking at three separate screens, two sets of earbuds—one in each ear—texting as he calls out things for FRIDAY or KAREN or EDITH to help him with. Sometimes he’s talking to all three at once and texting.

“Kid,” Tony says, coming up behind him and resting a hand on his shoulder, “you know you gotta pay attention to the stuff you’re doing, right?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m doing things!”

Cue an impressive rant that even Tony struggles to keep up with in places, all the while Peter’s fingers fly over his keyboard and beat out rhythms on his crossed legs. He looks up at Tony with a bright smile and sometimes, sometimes Tony wonders what goes on in that head of his.

Because if he’s only seeing the little bits that manage to make their way out of the kid’s mouth…god.

Can you blame him for giving Peter a technological playground? Kid lights up better than an arc reactor.

Tony just shakes his head and says: “Kids these days.”

It’s not an uncommon sight to see Peter doing his work with screens scrolling and music blasting over his earbuds. It drives Steve nuts, his mother-hen instincts trying to make sure Peter’s paying enough attention that he won’t hurt himself.

“I know, I know, Pete,” he laughs when Peter glares at him, “I know you can do it, and I trust you, I’m just…”

Peter softens the smallest bit, dropping his project to scurry over and hug Steve. “I know. You worry.”

Steve smirks, running his hand through Peter’s hair. “Gotta make sure you’re in good enough shape for our walk this weekend.”

“Are we gonna do just the anti-homeless benches or are we doing the ramp bars too?”

“We’ll see how fast we can run, hmm?”

“May wants pictures too.”

“Ah yes, for the Baby’s First Act of Civil Disobedience book.”

“Steve!”

“Nope, that’s what she called it. She sent me a photo.”

Peter’s fine. And Steve told the truth, he does trust Peter. They all do. Kind of a side effect of the whole superhero gig, you learn to trust your people.

Doesn’t necessarily mean you understand them.

It’s been a long day. They’ve had to do some interview with this-or-that news station about their stances on some issue that is ‘complicated on both sides.’ Long enough that even Steve’s—frankly impressive—public service mask is slipping. Natasha gave up trying to masquerade as someone who cared ages ago, glaring daggers at anyone who so much as suggested something unreasonable. Tony shoos the last of the day’s worries out the door as Clint flops down on the sofa.

“Why,” he groans, “did we have to do that?”

“We’re role models,” Steve recites, even as the slump of his shoulders says ‘no’ in every possible way, “it’s our duty.”

“Yeah well, I never signed up to be a fucking role model.”

“Clearly.”

“If you dare tell me off for cursing I swear—“

Bucky just smacks Steve upside the head before he can say anything.

“Ow!”

“Don’t, Stevie,” Bucky warns, “just don’t.”

“Peter?”

Everyone turns around to look at Sam, crouched in front of Peter. He’s hunched over, almost curled up completely in his chair. His curls bounce back and forth, small muttering sounds coming from under them.

“Peter,” Sam calls again, “Peter, can you look at me?”

Peter’s head raises slowly and Sam’s glad for the training he’s had that keeps him from reacting visually. Peter’s face is a mess, thin red lines, and tense muscles everywhere.

“Hey, Pete,” he says softly, “you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Peter shuffles. “Need something.”

“Okay. You hungry?”

“No. Need something.” He starts beating out a frantic rhythm on his legs, hard enough to make Sam wince. “Something, I gotta—“

“Where are your earbuds, Peter?”

“Counter.”

Tony tosses them their way without even hesitating. Sam hands them to Peter and almost immediately his hands fly to plug them in, jam the buds into his ears. The room waits, no one willing to move until Peter takes a deep breath and his shoulders slump. After a few seconds, he starts tapping his fingers again, this time much less frenzied. Judging by the pattern, it’s probably to the beat of the song.

“…sorry,” he mutters after a few moments, “sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Sam says, “you didn’t do anything wrong. You wanna talk about it?”

“Uh…not really, not right now.”

“Okay. Is that a ‘you don’t wanna talk about it at all’ or a ‘you wanna talk about it later?’ Either is fine,” Sam says quickly when Peter shifts nervously, “I just wanna understand a little bit more so we can help.”

“M-maybe later.”

“Sounds good.” Sam stands up. “You want us to leave you alone or are you fine if we hang out?”

“Stay,” Peter says, “please.”

“Sure thing, kid.” Sam makes his way over to the others, shaking his head when a couple of them shoot him curious looks. He glances back over at Peter to see him doing some motion that involves all four of his limbs. It’s…oddly mesmerizing, actually.

“I think he’s doing a music exercise,” Natasha murmurs, “eighth-notes, quarter-notes, half-notes, whole notes.”

Bruce stares at her. “He’s doing what?”

Natasha eases her way onto a stool, her left hand tapping along with Peter’s left. “This hand,” she says, still staring, “taps out every quarter note. One, two, three, four.”

“The right hand,” she says, tapping twice as fast with her right, “does the eighth notes. One-and-two-and-three-and-four-and.”

“Then the feet do…one…three…one…three.” She starts gently tapping her feet in time with Peter’s. “And one…one…one…one…”

Steve just shakes his head slowly. “That’s…complicated.”

“It’s a good way to immerse yourself in music,” Natasha murmurs, smiling slightly, “helped me too.”

“What’s it for?”

“I think our Baby Spider is trying to ground himself.” Natasha gives Peter a smile when he catches her doing the same motions. “And it’s fun.”

His other hand never missing a beat, Peter plucks out one of his earbuds and holds it out to Natasha. She smiles and joins him, sitting by his side and carefully inserting the bud.

“Ooh,” she says softly when she figures out what song it is, “nice choice.”

“Thanks.”

They sit like that as the others bustle around quietly, getting all the interview stuff tucked away and Steve starts the cooking for tonight. He shoos Tony out with a spatula as the genius pouts, quickly picking some innocuous bickering fight that makes Bruce roll his eyes and take the book Thor offers him. Bucky and Sam crash onto a nearby couch, Bucky half-heartedly trying to copy Peter and Natasha for a few moments before laughing and giving up. The dinner passes in relative quiet until Peter sighs and plucks out his earbuds, collapsing onto Natasha’s shoulder.

Natasha barely flinches, reaching up to ruffle Peter’s hair. “Hey there, Baby Spider. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter sighs, “sorry.”

“Told you,” Sam says easily, “you got nothing to apologize for.”

“No, I…I should’ve told you.”

“Peter,” Steve chides gently, “you’re allowed to not tell us things if you don’t want to.”

“But it’s also important that I tell you things,” Peter says stubbornly. “It’s not fair to you guys if I don’t tell you what bothers me and then you can’t do anything about it or it takes you by surprise.”

“That’s fair, Peter.” Natasha leans her head onto his. “Do you have something you want to tell us, then?”

“Yeah, I, uh…” Peter twists his fingers together, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. “Actually, uh, do you mind if I…have my earbuds in while I tell you? I’ll—I’ll play it on low volume, I’ll still be able to hear you, I just—“

“Shh,” Natasha hushes, “you don’t need to justify your needs. Go ahead.”

“…thanks.” A few seconds later and Peter visibly relaxes, running his hands through his hair as he sits up. “So, I, uh, I have a sensory processing disorder.”

Most of them nod. He’s not the only one. Bucky and Bruce in particular make some gesture of solidarity.

“But I, um…mine’s weird.”

“Weird how,” Sam asks.

“Uh, you know how most people get overwhelmed from too much sensory input?” When he gets an answering nod, Peter takes a deep breath. “I have, uh, I have the opposite.”

“…yours is triggered by having too little sensory input?”

“Yeah. That’s why I have…all the screens going all the time.”

Tony huffs. “Little bit of an understatement.”

“I-it’s easier for me to think!”

“It’s okay, Pete, I don’t mean anything by it,” Tony says instantly, raising his hands in surrender, “just wanna make sure this old man can still keep up with you, that’s all.”

“He admitted he’s old!” Clint throws his hands up in triumph. “All hail Peter Parker, the One Who Got Tony Stark To Admit He’s Old.”

“Alright, alright,” Thor says when it looks like Tony’s going to throw Steve’s salad across the table at Clint, “that’s enough. Peter,” he says, turning back, “how do we help?”

“H-help?”

“Surely it can’t come as a surprise that we wish to help you,” Thor chuckles, “now come on, out with it.”

“Uh…you did good today,” Peter mumbles, “getting me my earbuds and stuff.”

“Is that what we should do, then?”

“Yeah. Just, um, get me stuff that’ll occupy my sense. Optimal levels of arousal and all that.”

“Does that include physical contact,” Steve asks, “or no?”

“…sometimes? I gotta ask for that though.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Steve smiles and reaches out to squeeze Peter’s hand. “Thank you for telling us. I’m proud of you.”

“Ah, jeez,” Peter mumbles, his cheeks flushing, “do you have to say it like that?”

“Like what,” Steve asks like he obviously doesn’t know.

“Like—like that.”

“Steve, you’re such an asshole.”

“I agree with Bucky.”

“Both of you hush or there’ll be no dessert.”

The cry of protest that goes up around the table is enough to make Steve almost fall out of his chair from laughing too hard.

It’s pretty easy after that. They all keep an eye on Peter during functions where they’ve gotta sit still for long periods of time. Often they’ll hide Peter in the back and one of them will reach down, let Peter play with their hands, or sneak some new piece of tech in for him to tinker with. They always keep his earbuds close by and there’s never a problem if Peter needs his earbuds in while he’s at dinner with them or watching a movie.

Then May texts Tony one day when Peter’s scheduled to come over.

May: Peter’s earbuds broke.

Immediately, Tony sends it out to the others. They’re all on high alert, scouring the floors for where they may have been left, if they’ve got extras Peter can borrow, just for a little, come on Tony, you run a tech empire, what do you mean you don’t have headphones?

They’re all so busy looking that they completely miss Peter’s arrival.

Peter’s been floating ever since he got on the bus. Everything feels like it’s happening behind a whine of static. He’s floating in this weird bubble of a fish tank and he can tell there are things beating on the glass outside but he can’t do anything about them. He’s floating and he hates floating. He can’t feel anything. Can’t feel anything.

Something, something, he needs something.

Does he still have a body? Does it still feel? He doesn’t know as he stumbles down hallways and through doors. The walls don’t feel like anything. His hair catches on a catch and it feels. It sends a zing down his spine and he can feel. So he does it again. Feel. Feel. Feel. Feel.

His nail catches on his cheek as he raises his other hand to his hair and there’s a bright flash that shudders his body. It’s warm. He likes warm. He likes to feel. Feel. Feel. Feel. Feel.

He can’t feel his arms. So he moves to his arms. The flare spreads. Feel. Feel. Feel. Feel.

Where else can he feel?

He should be able to feel everywhere, shouldn’t he?

Feel.

Feel.

Feel.

Feel.

He can’t feel his hands but he can tell his hands are making him feel.

It’s stopped being a word now.

Something tangles in his hand, at least he thinks it does. Something tangles in his other hand. They squeeze. Oh. Oh, he can feel that. He can feel his hands. He can feel…he can feel a lot.

He hears the gentle whine of metal against metal, feels the hardness of a claw in each of his hands. He blinks and looks up.

DUM-E and U are holding his hands, squeezing them gently the way he does to them. When he murmurs their names, DUM-E lets his hand go, leaning down to start stroking his forehead with his claw. Peter watches, trace the parts of DUM-E’s machinery, mapping it out in his head, grounding himself in the expansions of wires.

It’s better now, it is. U still sits there, patiently squeezing his hand, even as DUM-E whistles and chirps. Peter starts mumbling back that he’s fine, thank you, he’s okay now, can DUM-E move a little to the left, please?

“Peter?”

“Uh, h-hi, Fri,” Peter mumbles, “I, uh, guess you should tell them I’m here.”

“They’re on their way, Peter.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Steve will stumble in first, Natasha hot on his heels. Steve won’t be able to hide his shock at seeing the red lines drawn harshly on Peter’s skin, even as he tries to smile and call out for him. Natasha will look him over and softly ask permission to patch him up a little.

Tony will praise the bots as Sam and Bucky rope Peter into some inane fight that pulls him out of his head. Bruce and Clint will offer him their earbuds as they’re the only two who’ve managed to find some. Thor will offer to carry Peter for a little while.

But for now, Peter will sit here, on the floor of the lab, while the bots kiss his face, and feel.

It’s just right.

[doomstypewriter]

ok so this is kinda out there so i totally understand if you decline this short request but: angsty, hurt no comfort, major character death moceit where janus is like 5 minutes away from being executed (i was thinking by hanging) and this is their last goodbye. it probably wouldnt come into play at all but just to be thorough: in my mind its like a vaguely fantasy 18th century setting

Hello, Anon. Thanks for the request. 

I normally do not enjoy reading major character death fics, but I surely am most willing to write them. 

I was sold-out on the whole fantasy18th century setting. 

Did I get carried away? Well, yes. 

I hope you don’t mind the piece of subversion I decided to incorporate. Also, I did indeed get carried away and wrote 1808 words for this. I have no self-control.  

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy it! 

AO3                               For other requests

TW: Major character death, swearing, HEAVY angst. Really, this will not end up nicely. 

Words: 1808 

It is one’s duty to abide by the laws

Tap. 

Tap. 

Tap. 

Tap. 

The tireless dripping of the filtrations in the stone cell did not stop, a repetition akin to a clock. It followed along the rhythm of the passage of each second he had left. 

As expected, the dungeons stunk of humidity and other things he did not wish to dwell on. They hadn’t even allowed him the comfort of a pile of hay to lay onto. All the dirt on his left cheek stuck to his skin disgustingly, god knows how scruffy his appearance would be after a week imprisoned.  

Far away, carried by the reverberation of the undergrounds, the sound of steps from upstairs reached his ears. There was a scuffle between who he deduced were four people. Two guards, and two...

“I said let me IN!” 

Ah. 

Two idiots. His two idiots.

“I needn’t remind you that challenging His Royal authority will wind you up where you are so adamant to give us pass to. I can begin reciting all set laws you’d be violating”. 

The loudness in Logan’s voice surprised him. It was almost as if he intended for him to listen too. 

A heavy door opened with a low creak. Then steps rushing down the irregular stone stairs. 

“Janus!” 

Oh. His heart jumped and wailed at the shadows turning the corridor. A sweetness missing from his cheery, silly, and endearing voice. His idiot. 

A cloaked figure fell on his knees in front of him, yet the bars rendered him so far away. He removed his hood, and, there he was. With his curly blond hair, the freckles he’d counted so many nights and the round wire glasses he only wore in private. Patton, his lover, but, most importantly, the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Ulidorean. Right behind him, as always, the royal advisor, also, his very good friend Logan Abinie. 

“What are you doing here? Does His Highness fancy tainting his reputation even more? I did deny our relationship, and anything that may have involved you with this mess, dear. Skillfully so. Have you any understanding of how hard that was? Well, of course not, because here you are, definitely not ruining all of my very light efforts on keeping your reputation untarnished. Lovely”. 

A pained smile graced Patton’s face, cutting him in half. He reached for the inside of the cell through the bars, to at least be able to touch him. 

“I’m sure those pants are not expensive at all. Thank goodness the guards bother to keep the floors spotless” Janus said as he gave in and got closer. 

Patton cupped his cheek, brushing some of the dirt away in a caress. Just as he always did. 

Not this time though. 

There was so much shit on Janus that not even a thousand caresses could unbury him out of the schemes that had brought him where he was. And, where was he? Oh, right, in a filthy cell, a night away from being executed. By hanging no less, and, oh, what a shame, for his windpipe looked so lovely whenever Patton pressed kisses alongside its column; but would, regardless, end up broken. 

All honey in his glance dripped on Janus leaving him with a bitter aftertaste. The brightest light in the world could not afford to be drowned in such sadness. 

“I’m going to save you” the whisper was so tiny he’d barely heard it. 

It felt like a love confession. ‘I’ll save you, he says, when he should rather save himself from me’. 

The half-born reptile looked up at the other person witnessing the prince’s lunacy. 

“You, get him out of here”. 

“No”.

“Great”. 

His scales popped, disentangling themselves from the glamour he had cast with blood magic, costing him a cut on his fingertips. At this point, he should be able to control his emotions. But no, apparently, there was no chance that the kingdom would not see his true visage. Dignity and death did not fit in fate’s plans for him. 

“How are you planning to do that exactly? Getting out of tricky situations was never your strong suit, my dear. That’s my job. And just look where it has led me. Where it has led us! You cannot ruin your chances with the crown when Earl Heeldwing and his supporters are threatening your father’s authority like they are”. 

“Roman is searching for the Dragon witch” he tried to argue. 

“So what? He may be your best knight, but he’s not your brightest one. Virgil is still wounded, and, without his help, he may never find the Dragon witch”. 

“You are not the only draconid descendant within the kingdom, the council knows this. If we manage to apprehend the Dragon witch and get her testimony we may be able to persuade the Circle of Elders to reconsider the nature of your penalty and earn the time needed in order to prove your innocence, but first, you must--” 

“Logan, goodness, I was not aware of the fact that there are many draconids in Ulidorean. Well, not that you mention that I’m sure it changes the circumstances. The Elders could not have possibly considered that! You are truly the genius everyone pegs you as”. 

“Jan, trust me. Everything will be fine, just let me help you”. 

“No!” he pulled apart and stood up. “Do you think I have not considered this? I made my appeal to them! I did try to persuade them and show them that I was framed! But nobody in the council believes me anymore. If the Circle of Elders are set on having my head, me, their main consul, then whichever meager testimony you find, will not make it through to a hearing! I am to be hanged by tomorrow morning. So I advise you to leave me alone and save yourselves the heartbreak!” 

“I am doing my best!”

“Yes, because surely doing your best is all it takes to change the world! This ridiculous willingness to believe in the good in others. People will condemn an innocent and the world shall not move a finger to stop it. Patton, your naivety is what brought us into this situation!”

Patton struggled to keep his breath steady after that, managing only a nod in response. 

“I did not mean that” Janus said as he pushed his body against the bars. 

“You said it still” he stood up. “Believing that there is good in others is what brought me to believe in you”. 

His chest twisted in pain when Patton pressed a kiss on his forehead and made a move to leave. Janus caught the soft hand before he never had a chance to again. 

“Please”. 

“Don’t be afraid, I will find a way to keep you safe, okay?”

The hand squeezed back and then let go. 

Seeing the dawn one last time. Maybe, if they moved him to the carriage early enough he could watch the sunrise before it got dark for good. 

The cell door opened.

A pair of handcuffs were quickly snapped closed on his wrists. 

Walking through the corridors he realised. ‘I don’t want to die’. 

He disentangled himself from the grip of the guards and he ran. Away, anywhere. 

‘I don’t want Patton to marry a noblewoman for heirs, I want him to marry me. I don’t care about what the court thinks anymore, I could not manipulate them. I want to wake up with him. I want to still be the Elders’ consul, I want to write law, I want my books, my house, my friends… I want to live’. 

One of the guards caught him. Janus was immobilised in the blink of an eye, the other guard hit him in the head and everything went black. 

Not for what seemed long enough. 

He woke up to the jolting of a carriage. Unexpectedly, a very nice looking carriage, rather than the disgusting ones which took the prisoners to the gallows. 

What? 

Impossible. Patton had made it. There was no other explanation. He… he did manage to save him! God. To hell with his views on the nonsense of the institution of marriage, he was going through that wedding Patton had always wished for. 

His vision finally focused. The concussion would not heal immediately, but he would have Patton by his side. 

By his side, he found Remus instead. 

“Remus?” 

“Hey, dragon penis. Long time no see. You got pretty roughed up in the dungeons”.

Remus by his side, and in front of him…

“Logan?” 

“Ah, you’re finally awake. You might be suffering from a concussion. It would be best if you rested for now. We will wake you once we get to the border”.  

“To the border?” Janus asked as he tried to sit up. 

A wave of nausea filled his esophagus. 

No. Not a good idea. 

“Rest. We will explain in time”. 

“What is going on?” 

“...” 

“Logan, you never keep quiet when someone asks a question, what mess…” 

“I can hit him in the head again, if you want” offered Remus, not sounding as joyful as usual, 

“Where’s Patton?” 

With that question, the world for everybody withing the carriage suddenly stopped. Logan tensed within seconds, even Remus held his breath back. They looked at each other in a way that conveyed far too much sympathy, especially considering their personalities. An unspoken message went between the two. Janus could almost hear it. It was a ‘we have to tell him’ kind of look, was it not? 

“He pleaded the principle of exchange using his royal power”. 

“No”. 

The principle of exchange was one of the laws introduced during the reign of Patton’s grandfather, it allowed for a person to exchange the penalty of a crime with that of a relative’s. It was intended as a way to prevent the most vulnerable members of a family to endure the hardness of a punishment they might not be able to withstand, while ensuring they received the impact of said punishment through the bond with their family. 

But, for that to happen… Patton must have recognised him as his spouse. Members of the crown could not be executed for a crime, only exiled. 

Then…

Oh no. 

Patton walked up the wooden planks that made the stairs of the gallows. It was worth it, he told himself. He even kept on telling that to himself when the Circle of Elders encouraged him to reconsider. Janus was convicted before he had made him his husband, which means that the veto on punishment by execution on the royal family did not stand for him. His grandfather had not thought this far ahead when he wrote down the law. One may stand in the place of a relative for a crime. That applied to everybody.

Including him. 

Logan and Remus would watch over Janus. 

Patton smiled in spite of it all. 

He did keep him safe.

...

I AM SO SORRY. 

[dazaily]

karasuno first years using pick-up lines on their s/o

soo.. i’ve been wanting to write a karasuno head canon for ages, and i gonna write a hc which turned into a short fic that i’ll probably never finish... so this is the replacement. enjoy!!

description: so the the karasuno boiz were playing truth and dare in their changing room. and tanaka and nishinoya had dared your bf to use a pick-up line on you. 

warnings: implied nsfw. gender neutral reader. fluffy but sprinkled with swears. i was stressed writing this. long af. not proofread. 

. ⋆ 　 *  . 　· 　  ✫  　  ⋆

hinata shoyo

i’m sorry but, did u rlly expect our lil cinnamoroll to know what’s a pick up line?

he babie 🥺❤️

n e ways, it was finally his turn on their little game of truth and dare and nishinoya had dared him to use a pick up line on you.

“a pickup line??? what’s that? will it improve my volleyball skills??”

like i said a bABIE!!

nishinoya and tanaka needs to stop tainting my bbys mind.

“udk whats a pickup line??? how did u even end up with y/n.”

nishinoya is in shock.

and then the plan commenced.

their lil game of truth and dare ended up as a lil plan on getting u hinata to use a pick up line on you.

that night, u were walking home w hinata after club activities ended.

with noya, tanaka and kageyama trailing you, but we pretend they don’t exist.

“soo,, y/n”

“sup? y u acting all weird for? ur usually rambling abt volleyball by now.. u okay?”

“hoW DO THEY KNOW?? WHAT AM I GONNA DO NOW?? THEY TOLD ME TO SOUND NATURAL BUT THEY ALR KNOWS!! uGh my senpais are watching me, i gotta do them proUD!”

hinatas mind ran at 1,000km/h, it was insane. especially for someone who doesn’t usually use their brain.

“um, uM, Y/N! CAN U HELP ME HOLD SOMETHING?!?”

confusion.

that was the only thing u felt at the moment.

i mean u were alr infront of ur house, what’s the point of holding smt when u were leaving??

“whut”

conveniently, during ur moment of confusion, the only word u could form was “what”.

“m-m-mm-mY HAND!!”

hinata screeched at ur face

...

silence. whilst noya and tanaka facepalms in the bg

it took a moment, but ur brain finally computes what ur bf just said

“pFFFFFTT,”

ur first instinct was to release the phatest snort/wheeze. shane dawson is jealous. 

“y/nnnnnn~~ stop laughinggggggg”

hinata was now suffering from crippling embarrassment, as u wouldn't stop laughing no matter how much he pleaded.

omg imagine him all blushy and shiz akdkkoaw-- ok lets not get off topic

“ok,, okay, first of all, u could've just held my hand without asking? we’re dating? you don't need my permission to do smth we do everyday?? and, more importantly, who taught u that line u just used???”

u said half wheezing, half talking, struggling to convey wtv ur trying to say to ur bf.

lucky for u, he was strangely able to understand what u were saying, and he replies with a lengthy explanation of the entire situation. 

“ooo, so that's why noya, tanaka and kageyama have been following us,,”

“hOWD U KNOW??? NOYA-SAN OUR HIDING SPOT HAVE BEEN EXPOSED!!!”

as u left to go in ur house, he stops u by holding ur hand and gives u a peck on ur forehead. 

as he separates from u, he had the biggest smile plastered on his face, brightening the entire neighbourhood.

“goodnight y/n! i love you!”

kageyama tobio

erm, lbr this man would have 0 ideas in the field of flirting.

knowing this, our lovely 2nd year duo, decide its time for them to step in and help their junior in his dating life

despite it flowing extremely smoothly w/out their intervention

n e ways, so they forced the 1st years to play truth and dare w them.

when it finally came to tobio’s turn, the unfortunate child unknowingly picks dare which causes nishinoya to spring up.

“i have the perfect dare for you.”

commencing plan...

so nishinoya dares kageyama to say a pickup line to you, but since kageyamas a big baby in disguise, he dk any pickup lines.

bet he didn't even know any pickup lines, but that's not the point. 

so, being the mastermind he is, nishinoya told kageyama a perverted pickup line.

being the clueless innocent baby he is, kageyama decides to recite the pickup line he received from noya to u outside ur class.

“hey y/n,”

“hmm?”

“do you like dragons?”

“eh? why the sudden question? i guess so?”

“cuz i can see me dragon my balls on ur face.”

processing...

.

what the fuck.

it was like god hit the pause button on earth, like literally everyone just paused for a literal second, turning their head towards kageyama, trying to figure out who tf was the brave soul who said that. 

while still in shock, kageyama just stood there confused, as he was suddenly placed in the centre of attention for no reason. o there's a reason honey, a very good one.

“why's everyone looking at me,”

with that one sentence, the world went back to normal as if someone had hit the play button all of the sudden, leaving u to deal with the weirdly awkward situation u found urself in. 

“ummm... tobio.. do u have any idea what u just said.”

“uhh yeah, a pickup line.” 

at that moment, when he said that, it hit u.

“what did they do.”

“huh, what are u talking about??”

*insert confused kags*

“nishinoya and tanaka told u to do something right?”

“r u a psychic???”

despite being amazed at ur ‘psychic powers’, he immediately explains the situation, causing u to face palm so much ur face may be concave.

there are times where u appreciate ur dumbass bf being a ignorant qt, but times like this makes u wish he was a tad bit smarter.. 

debating ur options, u decided to explain the meaning of the pickup line he just used on u in public.

once hearing and understanding the meaning of the pickup line he used on u, his face lit up like a matchstick, shining bright red, stuttering madly, struggling to get even a word out.

“oh, um, well, im sorry for saying smtg so indecent to u in public, um ill make it up to u somehow,”

understanding him was a struggle due to the severe stuttering he was suffering from, but u managed somehow.

“nahhh, its cool, i should go lecture nishinoya for corrupting my precious baby though~~”

“b-b-b-bABY!?!?”

“hehe, yes ur my baby <3″

tsukishima kei

ugh this salty ass mfcker

honestly can't imagine him being forced into using a pickup line on his s/o

cuz, despite hw much we try to deny it, he is one smart mfcker,,,

but i think he would be curious how his s/o will react, so he would do it on his own will anyways.

umm, so this is how the situation went down.

it was another boring day, and the 2nd year duo was having none of that and decided too ensue a game of truth and dare with the 1st years.

this was how the c h a o s started.

he was trying to leave the game discreetly before he had to sell his soul to the devil. 

unfortunately for him, lady luck was not on his side, as he was chosen to do the next dare. 

“but wait a fucking minute, when the fuck did this become a game of dare or dare, when tf did freedom of choice decide to fuck off like that?”

plot convenience

so he was forced into a dare. 

the moment of dread came when tanaka stood up shouting he had a brilliant idea. and it all went downhill from there.

so tanaka dared tsukki to use a pickup line on his s/o. and his first reaction was no. 

“o come on, u never do anything romantic, i bet u haven't even held hands, sometimes i wonder how y/n’s still with u.”

“says the person who has never dated.”

tanaka shut ups. 

so somehow, he managed to get himself out of the situation. 

later that night, he couldn't stop thinking about pickup lines. he almost spent the whole night thinking about ur reaction. cuz volleyball is just a club, am i right..

he decided to use a pickup line on u tmrw, just to see ur reaction, not like he wants to use one, lmao that's lame, haha. a fucking tsundere.

the next day, during lunch, he left yams with the 1st year duo to go find u.

when he saw u, he immediately calls u. 

“hey, where's yams, u didn't tell me u wanted to eat with me today,”

“nah, i just had something to tell u.”

at this moment, tsukishimas heart was beating faster than ushijimas spikes.

“you know if u think about it we never stop tasting our tongues.”

“hmm, now that u said it ye--”

“how bout i taste urs for a change.”

since it was so unexpected, u had no idea how to react. 

as u returned to reality, u notice a slight pink on his cheeks.

u were gonna come back with a snarky comment, since it was rare he was so vulnerable(?) 

but ur plans were ruined when he glanced at u making eye contact, to check ur reaction. 

ur face bursts into the brightest red, hes ever seen. 

seeing ur extremely delayed reaction, he lets out a laugh, but immediately recollects himself. 

“it was a dare from tanaka.”

you were still bright red, but u felt the blush on ur face reducing after hearing the reasoning behind the line. 

“oh, haha, i was wondering what's up”

u said slightly dejectedly. 

he felt like he was just punched in the gut by guilt. 

“i was also curious about ur reaction, and i am satisfied to say the least.”

he leans down to ur height to whisper in ur ear, before initiating the kiss. 

ur blush returns almost immediately as u returned the kiss.

since yall were in school, he separed from the kiss after a few seconds. this is a place for knowledge, y'all nasties.

“welp, bye loser,”

after the kiss, he immediately return to yamaguchi, leaving u alone with ur thoughts. trying to escape from embarrassment.

he may be equal to the condiment on ur kitchen cupboard, but he still tries to make u happy, so appreaciate him and his efforts <3

yamaguchi tadashi

a babie uwuwuwu

pickup line what's that? hehe omf he's so cute

so how this about to go down. 

so truth and dare bla bla bla... ive written this exact thing 3 times please excuse my behaviour.

since he was bored, yamaguchi forced tsukki to join in on the fun together, a decision he would regret. 

soon it became yamaguchi’s turn, and everyone turned quiet due to the lack of dares they had or yamaguchi.

that was until the one and only nishinoya stood up. 

“hEY, u have a s/o right, how about u use a cheesy pickup line on her!!” *eyebrow raise*

while processing what nishinoya just said, yamaguchi’s face morphed into one of dread and fear, as he turns his head to tsukishima for help.

“u dragged us into this mess, i aint helping u.”

and there goes his only help, well it was his fault in the first place dragging him and his best friend into this mess. tsukishima u tsundere.

yamaguchi was on the verge of tears, thinking of excuses and ways he could get out of the god forbidden situation he brought upon himself. 

but the only thing he could think of was the worst case scenario, which was u breaking up with him.

looking at his senpais, he slowly faces the fact that there's no escape and accepts his fate. 

if this is the cause of the end of ur relationship together, it just means the gods don't want y'all together.

“idk any pickup lines....” 

this was his last attempt of escaping as he bids ur relationship farewell, already aware it was not gonna work. 

“thiS IS WHERE I COME IN, don't worry yamaguchi i am the encyclopaedia of pickup lines.”

ofc his senpais would know the cheesiest lines on the surface of this earth. despite insisting the earth is flat.

and so the dreadful event began. 

after school ended, otw to his club, he met up with u. with his senpais trailing behind stalking y'all, to see ur reaction.

“ugh out of all the pickup lines, they had to make me use the most overused one... im gonna cry,,, y/n i hope u don't leave me after this.”

well here goes nothing...

“hey y/n,,” extreme stutters that im too lazy to type out.

“hmm?”

“k-k-kiss me if im wrong,,, b-but dinosaurs still exist right?”

before he could even cringe at himself, u gave him a peck on his lips while smirking afterwards. 

yamaguchi proceeds to poof into redness after processing what had just happen, as u laugh maniacally in the background.

“u could've just asked for one, and tsukishima already told me everything so u don't need to explain,"

yamaguchi did not have the brain power to comprehend the situation at hand, as he was still affected from the kiss from earlier.

“i can't believe u think i would breakup with u because of something so trivial.. im kinda upset..”

finally coming back to reality, yamaguchi finally realises the situation he's in. 

“o-oh, i didn't mean to make it seem like i didn't believe in our relationship, its just that w--”

he gets cut off by u kissing him again.

when u separate, u began to laugh again. 

“hAHAHHA, ikik, i was just joking around, don't worry ill love u no matter what, now off u go to ur club ill see u tmrw.”

not knowing what to do or how to react, yamaguchi felt the need to do smtg before u left. 

“i love u, ill call u later tonight!”

[squidbatts]

all that you have left to lose

Just on a medical note, folks, Peter does regrow his parts, so you Runners don’t need to return any bits you find lying around

Or: an incomplete list of things that runners have returned to Peter Lynne, local disaster

((keeping with my “at least one fic about peter a month” streak for 2020, have a silly little thing about peter being able to regenerate and runners returning his body parts to him anyway. spoilers to... lazarus (s5m30) i think? the fic exists Technically sometime in early s6 but it doesn’t include any of late s5/s6′s plot points so! you should be good. please enjoy!))

{ao3}

1. Ear (Right, torn)

Nadia drops the ear in front of Peter at the mess hall, which is less than ideal for a variety of reasons. A bit because it makes Peter want to eat his mystery soup a little less, but mostly because it causes Reggie from the kitchen to glare over at them. 

"What did I say about dismembered limbs in my mess hall?"

"Not allowed unless they're going in your food," Peter dutifully recites. "Though, can I just say, that's majorly creepy. Am I supposed to take that as 'If Abel had a food shortage, you'd become our very own renewable meat source'? Because that's how I've taken it."

Reggie doesn't respond except to narrow their eyes further, which isn't exactly inspiring. 

Peter turns back to Nadia. "Good afternoon, Nadia! To what do I owe the honor?"

"Someone gave this to Veronica but she said that it wasn't a 'good enough sample,'" Nadia says, with the look of an indulgent older sibling who's been given a mudpie. "I figured you might want it back."

Peter is never sure where he stands with Nadia; she didn't know him, before, and hasn't really shown any interest in getting to know him now, beyond awkward small talk when he goes to Veronica's labs. Still, as her hand's twitch against the wheels of her chair, he recognizes her bravado, as well as the devotion to someone who's just a bit crazy. He smiles at her, puts his spoon down, and picks up the ear. He doesn't want it, not really, but it was nice of her to bring it.

--

2. Finger (Left pinky, cut just above the palm)

Peter supposes that it’s his fault, walking up to another runner without loudly announcing his presence beforehand. Still, it's not like he knew Jody was sharpening her knife. 

"Peter, oh my god, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Jody gasps, dropping out of her defensive stance as easily as she'd moved into it. Between them on the soft grass of the quad, Peter's finger lays forlornly.

"Since when do you use knives anyway?" Peter hisses, voice muffled by how he's shoved his hand into his mouth in a reflexive attempt to stop the pain. He knows that his body is working to fix it, that in a few hours he'll have a full hand again, but still.

"Tom gave it to me," Jody replies, more starry-eyed than the statement would've called for half a decade ago. Really, Peter should've expected the answer; De Lucas like it best when everyone is nice and well-armed.

"Why are you sharpening it, then? I'd say it's sharp enough already, obviously." Peter wiggles his pinky-less hand pointedly, though there's a significant part of him that's thankful that he only caught her after the knife was sharp enough to make a clean cut: a half-dull blade would've hurt more. Jody scowls, though her eyes still have an apologetic sheen to them. 

"Well, what are you doing skulking around like that? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I was going to ask if you wanted to join me on a book exchange run because I heard a rumor that Fort Canton had the fifth Percy Jackson book," Peter huffs, "But now I think I should just go alone."

"Oh, don't be like that," Jody says. She picks up Peter's still bleeding finger from the ground and tosses it to him as she bends to tie her sneakers tighter. 

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Peter asks, making a face. The wound on his hand has closed up, overactive cells already starting to grow him a new pinky, but he puts the old one up to the spot for a moment anyway, pulling it away like a macabre mimicry of a fake finger magic trick.

"I dunno, that's none of my business, is it?" Jody snarks, "Now, let's go, before someone else gets that novel."

--

3. Kidney (Look, it’s been a hard week)

"Damn it, Peter," Louise Bailey hisses, and something hits Peter's back, fast enough that he knows she threw it, "I slipped on your intestines!"

"Sorry! Next time someone's slicing through me with a machete, I'll be sure to keep all my organs inside so I don't hurt you," Peter snarks back as she catches up with him. She didn't actually slip on his intestines, Peter knows, because his intestines are definitely still inside of his body, despite the large torso-spanning slash that he's weakly pressing his hands against -- it used to be hard for him to tell what he'd lost or what hurts, but he's become something of an expert at it since he's rejoined Abel. He's still not sure if that's a good thing. Still, Louise probably did trip on something of his, since whatever she threw at his back was too fleshy and soft to be anything but organic, and he's certain that a few of his less than vital organs spilled out. "You know, this is why I hate missions where I have to deal with people."

"Because you lose your organs?" Louise asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Yes, because I lose my organs! Zombies bite and scratch, but they don't throw knives or slice me up. I may be immortal but I can still feel pain," Peter says. Louise is quiet for a moment before she turns around. Peter slows down, nervously looking back towards her and, unfortunately, the direction that their pursuers are coming from. "Oi! What are you doing?"

Louise bends to pick something up and doubles back, cradling a fist-sized, burgundy thing in her hands. She tosses it and Peter catches it on reflex. "Here, it's yours anyway."

The kidney is a bit misshapen and smushed, probably from where Louise stepped on it, but it's still warm in his hands. Louise looks at him out the side of her eye like she's expecting him to just pull open his cut and pop it back in. He slides it into his backpack instead, already anticipating a lecture from Maxine about getting bio-goo on Township supplies. "Thanks, appreciate it."

--

4. Three toes, as well as one and a half loose phalanges (Big and index of right, big of left, god knows where those phalanges came from)

Paula frowns at Peter's feet. Peter frowns at the roof of the building that he still calls the Med Tent in his head. 

"Well, doctor?" He asks, "What's the verdict?" 

Paula moves her scrutiny to Peter's face. "I don't know how you managed to crush your feet like this-"

"I was carrying a supply crate and I tripped, alright, it's not like I did it on purpose," Peter defends. Paula continues as though he hadn't spoken.

"But, usually, I'd do an X-ray and maybe some surgery to re-set, then wrap the toes up for a few weeks. For you, I can tell that at least two of these have set wrong already, so I'll have to re-break them. Though I guess, I could always just amputate."

Peter considers this. "Which one will be faster?"

"The amputation, but you'd be off-balance while things grew back."

"I'd be off-balance with the wrap too," Peter waves her concern off like he's swatting a bug, "No, no, better the quick solution. Can I get anesthetic?"

"Can you get- Of course you can Peter, what kind of doctor do you think I am?" Paula shakes her head at him. "Sometimes, I wonder what's going on in that head of yours."

Peter grins at her, unrepentant and a little self-deprecating. "You and me both, Doc."

Later, after Peter's enjoyed some of the best pain-numbing that Abel can spare and has been given a blindfold because "If you don't stop looking down here and flinching, I'm going to have to cut even more and neither of us wants that," Paula hands Peter a biohazard bag. 

Peter shakes it experimentally and scrunches his nose at the sound of flesh bouncing around inside. "Are these my toes?"

"Yes. Bring them over to Veronica for me, would you? She's been trying to convince Maxine that it would be ethical to cut off one of your limbs for nearly a month now, anyway, might as well give her some actually ethically-sourced Peter parts."

"What am I, a mailman?" Peter asks, peeking into the bag and wincing with phantom pain. Paula frowns at him.

"Do you need a blindfold to wear on the way over to Veronica's as well?"

"Why, Doctor Cohen, I didn't think you were into that sort of thing," Peter leers, breaking into laughter when Paula throws a roll of bandages at him. "Alright, alright, I'm going!"

"And be careful of that foot!"

--

5. A rather large bone (???)

"That is not mine." 

Tom stares at Peter, unblinking. Peter likes Tom, he did even when Tom was more liability than friend, but god if he isn't creepy sometimes. 

"Are you sure?" Tom asks, looking from the bone, a massive thing that's clearly longer than Peter's forearm, to Peter. 

"I'm quite sure. I don't know who's out there missing a bone, but I like to think that I would've noticed losing a leg bone."

Tom hums, consideringly. He picks up the bone and swings it once, as though he's testing the heft and balance. Peter suddenly has a horrible vision of Tom, just as dangerous and De Luca-ish as he is right now, but also armed with a bone sword. He doesn't think that Janine would ever forgive him if he let that happen. 

"Actually, you know what?" Peter says, reaching forward and taking the bone from Tom, "I think this might be mine. Thank you for returning it, I'll just, uh, add it to the collection, as it were."

"You collect your own bones?" Tom asks. Peter, who is already too far in, just smiles back at him. 

"We all have our little hobbies," He offers. Tom raises his eyebrows but nods. Still, Peter makes a mental note to tell Jody to be on the lookout for any weird new quirks; Tom had seemed much too interested in the concept of a bone collection.

--

+ 1. Nothing

Five clears their throat as they enter Peter's curtained-off corner of the Med Tent. "Rare that you're trapped in here," They sign. 

"Unfortunately, even I need some time and doctor assistance to fix spinal trauma," Peter says, putting down the knitting that Jody gave him; he appreciates the gesture but knitting when one of your hands is pins-and-needles numb and you can only use the other if you hold your arm in a very particular position while your nerves knit themselves back together is more effort than it's worth. "Nice of you to come visit, though." 

Five makes a face, their classic I'm not sorry but manners tell me that I should be face, and signs, "Sam told me that I should come visit you. He says I shouldn't keep your things without asking."

"My things?" Peter asks, brow furrowed. "What do you have of mine? I didn't you'd be much for theft, Five. Well, theft among friends, that is."

"I'm not, it's just-" They cut themselves off and reach into their pocket with a heavy sigh. What they pull out is small, white, and clean. Peter's confused for a moment, wondering why in the world Sam thinks it's his, and then Five moves it in their hand and he gets a better idea of the shape and- huh. 

"That's one of my vertebrae." He says, though it sounds more accusing than he'd wanted. Five scowls. 

"I found it, fair and square. You just left it on the ground, obviously you didn't care about it."

"Five, my dearest, darling head of runners," Peter starts, desperately wishing that his hands were working enough that he could steeple them for emphasis. "I passed out from blood loss."

"That's not any of my business!" Five signs emphatically. 

Sometimes, Peter forgets that Five is like this; sometimes, in his head, Five is a big soft puppy that loves sports bras and Sam. The real Five, unfortunately, is a gremlin who does things like drink shampoo to win a bet and picks up garbage off the ground during runs just because they can. "Whatever, it's fine. I don't want it anyway."

Five looks at him suspiciously but puts the bone away. "Are you sure?"

"Very. I've already regrown most of the damaged pathways, I'm sure the bones are nearly back as well." 

"I wasn't really worried about you taking this one back," They say, finally coming closer to settle into the chair next to Peter's bed. "But it would've been okay if you did; I have three more."

"Three more?" Peter asks, "Are they all vertebrae or- Actually, nevermind, I don't want to know and I don't want them back."

"Good," Five grins, sharp as a wolf, "I wouldn't have given them to you anyway."

[sonickedtrowel]

Ask game: 39, 32, and 13 ✨✨✨

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on? I really love writing dialogue, probably to the detriment of every other aspect of my writing, but people seem to enjoy it so I’m very pleased about that lol. 32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from? OH NO.  This is going to be so hard.  Also I’m gonna say sorry right now because I’m a chronic over-explainer, and I can never just pick a few lines because I never know where to start, I feel like “yOu NeEd thE ConTExT” for everything, so I’m gonna be really annoying answering this.  So I’m gonna put it under a cut.

1. From There is a love I reminisce.  I make myself laugh every time I read this.  I’m a little ashamed of that.  But not a lot.  Doctor below is 11.

“And I’m not interested in ‘told-you-so’s,” [River] warned. [The Doctor] grinned back at her, undeterred.  “River Song, my outrageously brilliant wife.  Have I mentioned that I love you?” “You do tend to bring it up on special occasions,” she answered nonchalantly.  “Anniversaries, birthdays, murders…” “Ooh, have we got any more of those coming up?” he asked, leaning in close. “Honestly, you and your murder kink!  I should have used that as a defence at my trial. ‘Your Lordship, he was asking for it really, really nicely,’” she recited, hand to her chest.  “‘Who am I to judge?’”

2.  Ok tbh I think they’re all going to be from this fic because it’s freshest in my mind and also because I usually hate everything I wrote more than a year ago.  This one is long but you sort of need it for the full pay-off.  I swear!  11 and River in 8′s TARDIS.

“Well.  That was certainly something,” River said, turning back from the place where the door had been to look round the expansive console room.  “And so is this.  Is this what it’s normally like?”

“Yep,” said the Doctor, kicking at the corner of a throw rug.  “I mean, there’s ‘bigger on the inside,’ and then there’s just showing off!  And oh look, you know what a ship that goes hurtling through time and space really needs?”  He snatched up a lit candle and waved it in her direction. “Fire hazards!”

There were, to be fair, quite a lot of candelabras about the place.  “I guess we’ve found where he keeps his flair for the dramatic,” she said, a smile pulling at her lips.

“What, you’re telling me you had him for a week and didn’t set off any soliloquies?  What were you doing the whole time?  Don’t answer that.”

“I’m sure he must have made it inside,” she muttered, only half to convince herself.  “I wonder where he’s got to.”

“Probably the highest room in the tallest tower,” the Doctor grumbled.

“Oh my god.  Damsel!” River cried.

“Sorry?”

“I’ve been having the damnedest time coming up with a name for him!”

“Name?  What do you mean, a name?”

“I was seriously regretting already giving Pretty Boy away, let me tell you,” she laughed, “but this is perfect!”

“Sorry,” said the Doctor, fumbling to replace the candle in its holder without paying it much attention, “I’m still a little caught up on you having names for all of me?”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she scoffed, “not all of you.  Only the ones I know… intimately.”

“Intim—!” he sputtered, spilling a drop of wax as he finally wedged the candle crookedly in place and hissing as he drew back his hand.  “You don’t know Pretty Boy intimately — wait.  What’s my name?”

“Oh, so that one you noticed, hm?  And are you sure I don’t?  He was in my bath only last month, asking me about Zygons of all things.  Your bedroom talk has improved somewhat, I’ll give you that. But he did stay for dinner.”  At the ridiculous look of outrage on his face, she relented. “Don’t worry, you had quite literally all of your clothes on.  I, on the other hand, was dressed appropriately for the occasion.”

“Umm, no,” said the Doctor, “no, no, I am absolutely sure I would have remembered this.  Frequently.”

“And I’d be insulted that you didn’t, but it’s been that sort of week.”

“You never said what my name is.”

River flashed him her most brilliant, innocent smile.  “Please. It’s Sweetie, obviously.”

Babyface did not look convinced.

3. I’m noticing all my fav dialogue in this is between River and 11 and now I feel bad for 8 and wish I could go back and give him some better lines.  Poor guy.  He was too busy being a cute romantic amnesiac to be funny but that is no excuse, he should be all of those things!  Ok, here’s one where 8 is at least there?  I also quoted these in backwards order.  Idk.  YOLO.  I’m terrible at answering questions.

“Doctor,” the pitch of her voice lowered as she smiled a sweet, dangerous smile, “now is not the time for you to be an idiot.” “Me!  Me?  What about— River, why him?”  The Doctor shifted seamlessly from outraged to piteous.  “He’s—”  He faltered for a moment, flailing hands slowing as he looked over his other self and clearly grasped for something to criticise.  “...short.” 

“Oh, not where it counts,” River purred.

“River!” two red-faced Doctors choked.

“And I’ve had about enough of your tantrum, thank you.  I’ve done nothing wrong.”  That was probably a questionable claim, when it came to maintaining the timelines, but she was feeling righteous in the face of his petulance.  “Would you rather I abandoned you to wandering through traffic without a clue where you’d come from or who you were?”

“Aha, see!  Told you, it’s always something with him!”

“Yes, I’m not coming off terribly well in this story,” the younger Doctor muttered.

“You’re both ridiculous,” River sighed, “and this is not at all living up to my fantasy of having two of you to play with, so none of us is exactly having the night we might have hoped for.”  

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

Hah!  Outlines.  I wish I were that person.  Typically, I start fics with absolutely nothing.  I just start writing with the vaguest, faintest hint of an idea, and then somehow as I go it just keeps getting more and more complicated and spawning subplots and nonlinear narratives I didn’t ask for and pulling in characters that weren’t going to be there and at that point I might jot a few things down just to remember what I’m doing next, but really I’m at the mercy of my shower thoughts.

[leahxx129]

Fun Fact (Steve Rogers X Reader)

Okay, this one’s for the lovely @waiting4inspiration​ ‘s #staysafestayhomechallenge, my prompt can be found in bold. This is my second fic ever posted on here, but I hope you enjoy it. :) 

Summary: Fun fact: when you’re dying, your life does flash before your eyes. Well, not all of it of course, just the snippets that actually made it worth living. For you this means four memories that portray different stages of your relationship with Steve Rogers.

Warnings: angst, a little bit of smut, character death

Word count: 3.567

When you arrived in the middle of the battle that was raging on in Wakanda, Natasha, Okoye and Wanda were struggling to fight Proxima Midnight. You hit her with a ball of blue fire to aid your friends, and she stumbled back hard.

“How dare you?!” she screamed.

Your only response was another ball, but this time it was a bigger one. It caught her with such force and velocity that she flew against a Thresher and got shredded to pieces.

“Steve’s in the forest with Thanos!” Natasha shouted knowingly.

You ran into the woods as fast as possible and the scene playing out in front your eyes was gut-wrenching. Steve had the upper hand, but he was undeniably struggling, and it was a matter of seconds before he’d lose his advance. A blue blast coming from you sent Thanos crashing into a nearby tree.

“Y/N!” Steve uttered your name, but you couldn’t be bothered.

You appeared in front of Thanos in just a fraction of time and disabled him with the fire. You could hear voices all around you, coming from various people – Thanos bellowing, Steve demanding you to stop, Bucky telling him to flee – but you ignored all of them and closed your eyes, feeling the blue fire rise.

Fun fact: when you’re dying, your life does flash before your eyes. Well, not all of it of course, just the snippets that actually made it worth living. For you this meant four memories.

You clearly envisioned the day you met Earth’s most exclusive redheaded spy alongside with the man who awakened feelings in you that you yourself didn’t even know you were capable of experiencing.

It was a humid hot day in July, your short-sleeved yellow uniform and red apron stuck to your body in all the wrong places, making you feel uncomfortable. You took in a sharp breath as your bandaged palms came in contact with the plates you were supposed to deliver to table 3 and put them down in an instant.

“Hey Mike! I am so sorry, but I just don’t think I can wait tables today… how ‘bout I take up all the orders and you bring them out?” you called out to your co-worker.

“What’s in it for me?” he furrowed his brows.

“I’ll buy you coffee.”

“So, it’s a date, right?” a grin formed on his freckled, yet handsome face.

“No, Mike. It’s coffee.”

“So, it’s a coffee date?”

“Nope, only coffee, Mike. No date. I’ll buy you one in the morning and just give it to you when I arrive.”

There was a moment of silence and his grin turned into a small smile.

“You know you’re lucky you’re hot and I’d do anything for you, free coffee or not.” he said picking up the plates and disappeared.

The diner was packed, a loud buzz filled the place as everybody was talking simultaneously. Having spotted a raised hand, you hurried over to get the order. Sure, your palms hurt holding a notepad and a pen, too, but remotely not as much as when you picked up those full plates.

“Welcome to Pop’s Diner, what can I get you?” you recited without even as much as sparing a glance at the consumers.

“A conversation would be nice.”

Your eyes immediately shot to the speaking man and his companion and widened in shock.

“Oh my God! You… you’re…” you felt the heat rise in your cheeks as you tried putting together a coherent sentence and failed.

“It’s okay, don’t be nervous.” the read headed woman smiled kindly. “I’m Agent Natasha Romanoff and this is Captain Steve Rogers. We’re here on behalf of Nick Fury.” she continued on, making you gasp loudly.

“We’d just like to talk, that’s all. Would you mind sitting down for a second?” Rogers chipped in.

You opened your mouth to protest since you were working after all, but promptly decided against it and sat down across them. When Captain America asks you to sit down, you sit down.

“May I… May I inquire what this conversation is in relation to?” you cleared your throat.

“Your palms.” Rogers stated calmly. He flashed you a smile what you assumed was supposed to be reassuring, but all he managed to do was make you even more flustered.  

“My palms…? Wha- what about them?”

“It seems like you had burned them pretty badly.”

“Uhm, yeah. I was cooking and I didn’t realize how hot the pot was until it was too late.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Agent Romanoff took out her phone and placed it in front of you on the table. A security camera footage started to play and after a few second there you were, making your way through the diner’s parking lot a day ago. When you got to your car, a man pressed you hard against its side. A short grapple ensued and two minutes in an intense light emerged from your palms, making the stranger fall to the concrete. He was weltering on the ground, touching his own face and you just stood there. Satisfied. After a while you got in your car and drove off. The video stopped.

“Wanna re-think that answer?” she asked.

You didn’t even realize that a couple of tears escaped until they made their way down your face. You wiped them away furiously with the back of your hand. You winced when she called you by your name since you didn’t remember introducing yourself, but you shouldn’t have been surprised – you were convinced that by then S.H.I.E.L.D probably even knew what your favorite color was.

“Look, we have no idea what we witnessed on that tape and that’s one thing we’d like to know-”

“Well then that makes three of us…” you cut in bitterly. “ ’Cause I don’t even know what that was… Just to be clear, I did not want to melt that man’s face off even though he attacked me. I just felt threatened, and when I get angry or feel like I’m in danger, this incredibly cold sensation swipes trough me and just... wants to surface. By the time it reaches my palms it’s so cold, it burns… It burns right through my skin and looks like blue fire.”

Agent Romanoff and Captain Rogers exchanged a quick glance and the latter started off to Pop’s office.

“Where’s he going?” you asked in panic.

“He’s handing your boss your resignation.”

“What??”

“Relax, душенька. I think you’re gonna like your new job better than this. But first, you’ve got a lot to learn.” she smirked in response.

The second scene playing before your eyes was about the night you and Steve kissed for the very first time.

You won the battle of New York. At a painstakingly high price paid in body-count, but you’ve won it, nevertheless. The city slowly started to revive again and tried getting back to the old routine, but deep down everybody knew that would never happen. The harsh reality that Earth wasn’t the only populated planet and that humans were not the only superior beings in the universe settled in every heart and mind and there was no way of changing that.

Stark of course felt like the victory was something to celebrate so he threw a rather extravagant party in the Stark Tower. You tried to enjoy it, you really did, but you didn’t succeed in doing so. The music struck as too loud and all the drunk people soon became annoying instead of entertaining. Consequently, you grabbed your half-empty glass of whiskey and headed up to the roof top to get a breath of fresh air. The cold gusts of wind felt wonderful against your skin.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that, Rogers. I almost threw a blue fire ball in your face.” you said without turning back. He chuckled softly and strolled to your side.

“Sorry, I just had to get away from the crowd. Plus, Stark’s hammered and he insisted on teaching me how to dance. I don’t think I’m ready for that tonight. Or ever will be.”

You didn’t notice how captivated he was when a genuine laughter ripped out of you.

“And here I was, thinking you deliberately followed me up here to finally get me alone.” you looked him in the eyes, smiling.

“You wish, doll.” his expression mirrored yours.

Your heart began racing as his face started to inch closer to yours. Your lips almost touched when a loud noise made you jump apart – courtesy of a very drunk Tony Stark trying to open the exit door with an equally drunk bimbo on his side.

“Whoops…” he said, then went on “… what was I saying? Oh, yes, sweetie, you can totally see Asgard from here. You just have to squint a little, then concentrate real hard and-”

Steve cleared his throat to make your presence known before Tony did something neither of you wanted to see.

“Rogers! Y/N! What are you two doing here? Oh, wait- did he… did he confess to you already?” he asked, looking straight in your eyes.

“Confess what?”

“Stark. Please stop talking. Now.” Steve’s voice was laced with nervousness, but Tony being Tony, did not stop talking.

“That he’s got a thing for you, Darling.” he informed you, then turned to Steve “Ugh, for God’s sake, Rogers, just kiss her already! Because if you won’t, I will!”

“Hey!” the bimbo screamed, clearly offended and went back to the building. A second later when Tony realized what happened he rushed after her shouting he didn’t mean it; he was just trying to motivate a friend. Or maybe he meant it a little, but just a little. Then all the noise died out.

“Soooo… you have a thing for me?” you spoke up after what seemed like an eternity of silence.

“Yes. I do. Although I planned on presenting it to you a bit differently.” he admitted.

“I see. Since it’s confession time, can I tell you something, too?”

“Sure thing, doll.”

You closed the distance between the two of you and stood on your tiptoes.

“I’ve got a thing for you as well, Steve…” you whispered in his ear.

He cupped your face and crashed his lips against yours in response. He did not like booze at all, but if anyone asked what his favorite was, he said whisky, because that’s what he tasted on your tongue that night.

Another clip of your life you were seeing was about the first time Steve made love to you.

You entered your room after a mission gone a bit sideways, exhausted to an extent that’s impossible to describe and with bruises and cuts covering the majority of your body. Steve stormed in just seconds after and slammed the door shut so hard it almost broke off its hinges. His beautiful face was hardened by anger and those blue eyes that often reminded you of the peaceful sea promised storm.

“What the hell was that?!” he demanded in a raised tone.

You sat down in front of your boudoir table and started peeling of your shredded suite very carefully.

“Answer me!” he shouted when he realized you had no intention of getting into an argument with him.

“Well, Cap, we went on a mission that in the end required some prompt, unplanned decisions on our side and I made them. Mission turned out successful. End of story. Is oral summary sufficient or would you like me to hand it in in written format?”

“Don’t “Cap” me, doll. And the attitude won’t bring you any closer to the end of this conversation…” he warned a little bit calmer, but still with a shaking voice.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I just don’t see what your problem is.”

You finished getting out of the top part and stood up to get done with the bottom, visibly struggling. With a couple of quick steps Steve appeared in front of you and tore it apart. You wore nothing but your underwear.

He then grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes.

“My problem is every single bruise on your body that’s not supposed to be there. Every single cut. Every single wound. Just because you learned how to use the blue fire without getting burnt it doesn’t mean you should use it excessively. I saw the effect it had on you today, don’t think I didn’t. For a split second it appeared as if it was consuming you from the inside…”

“Steve, if I hadn’t overdriven myself a little today, some of our greatest agents would’ve died. And I could not take that risk.” you said with gritted teeth. Tears started to sting your eyes, but you held them back.

“Well, I could! You know what risk I cannot take?! Losing you, doll.”

“I’m sorry…” you said in a small voice without a beat. Apologizing was not your genre, but the realization of how much Steve cared for you just dawned upon you. A mix of emotions took over you – you felt immensely loved, but at the same time, you were scared. “I gotta go take a shower. Will be back in no time.”

You slipped out of his grasp and let the tears flow as you closed the bathroom door behind you. Having stripped your underwear, you stepped into the shower and started cleansing yourself. You hoped the hot water would wash away the shame and guilt you felt, not just the dried blood and dirt. You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you jumped a little when Steve opened the shower cabin door.

“Oh my God, you scared me!” but he didn’t say a word.

He pushed you against the cold shower wall and kissed you violently, while his hands explored every curve of your body. It took all your willpower to break the kiss.

“Steve, do you really want our first time to be shower sex?” you asked panting.

“It doesn’t matter where we are, doll. I love you and I want you.” he growled, kissing down your neck.

Every fiber in your body ached in protest, but you ignored them. You ran your nails down his back as he put his hands under your thighs and gently lifted you up. A moan escaped you mouth when he entered you and slowly started moving. Steve swore it was the most beautiful sound in the whole goddamn universe. It was not long before the tension started building up in your body and having noticed this, he picked up the pace. You’d never moaned anyone’s name during orgasm before, but Steve was the only exception. He reached his bliss second later.

“On second thought, shower sex was just great for a first time.” you said, and he chuckled. “Where did you, uh, where did you hear about it?”

“Uhm, do you remember the mission like eight months ago when Stark and I got stuck on a desert island for six days?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, turns out, Stark opens up quite easily about his sensual experiences…”

“Noo. No way!” you laughed as you stepped out of the shower and started drying your hair with a towel.

“Yes way.” Steve followed you and took over the towel to dry your hair. “I also heard about other stuff, but those require a bed.” he smirked suggestively.

“In that case it’s a good thing I happen to own one.” you kissed his lips and wished that day would never end.

The last memory could not have been any clearer and it was breaking your heart all over again.

It was no question who’s side you were on when the civil war between Tony and Steve broke out… You got used to the life being on the run with Steve, Natasha and Sam in no time, although you still missed the others as well. They were the closest thing to a family you’ve ever had, and the rupture pained you badly at times. When Steve decided to collect the rest to unite in the fight against the greatest threat that ever endangered the universe, you were glad. You never knew how this beginning would mean the end of your relationship.

The first avengers Steve decided to recruit were Wanda and Vision in Europe, and frankly, you got there just in time. There’s a chance that a couple of minutes later there would’ve been no one to recruit… Your heart skipped a beat when you realized who you were up against, but you couldn’t allow yourself to ponder – lives were on the line. You helped Natasha stab Glaive and when Proxima Midnight grabbed your shoulder and turned you in her direction to deliver a punch, her fist froze mid-air.

“Y/N?” she asked uncertainly, but you didn’t answer. Sam flew in and kicked her to Glaive’s side. “Your father will hear about this, I promise.” she threatened before vanishing in blue light.

Everybody was panting, the fight exhausted all of you. Other than that, no sound could be heard.

“What was she talking about, doll?” Steve spoke up finally, asking the question everyone was dying to hear the answer to.

You all boarded the Quinjet, but you and Steve went to a separate cabin to discuss matters first.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t hit you or try to kill you on spot, though you were absolutely certain you would’ve deserved it. He just sat there. Quietly. He didn’t utter a word while you were telling him that you, in fact, were not human. You were a member of a species called ‘Inhuman’, which was the result of mixing Kree genes with human ones, and this is the reason why you possess the blue fire. He didn’t say a thing while you were telling him that as a child, Thanos snatched you and brought you up as his own daughter alongside two other girls, Nebula and Gamora, and turned the three of you into the most feared assassins in the entire galaxy. His mouth stayed shut while you were telling him that coming to Earth was a mission ordered by Thanos to gain intel on what was going on here and you were deemed fit for it as you looked like humans.

“But I stopped delivering information years ago, Steve! Do you know why? Because I fell in love with you! And because I realized the error of my father’s ways! He lied to me throughout my entire life and manipulated me into believing his false ideology! Steve? Please, say something, Steve…”

“Leave.”

You were not sure if the word echoed in the room or was it just your own mind.

“What?”

“I said, leave.” he stood up. There was no sign of fury on his face. Only disappointment. You didn’t move, so he continued.

“You were the very first woman I loved after Peggie, which I thought would be impossible for a long-long time… I loved you, Y/N. You saved me in more than one way, and after the war I wanted to settle down with you. Start a family. But you know this damn well, for fuck’s sake… And now it turns out I never even knew you…”

“But Steve, you knew me, in fact, you know me!” you interrupted with a cracking voice.

“No, doll, I didn’t. And I don’t.”

You ran up to him and cupped his face, but he refused to look at you. Your palms were wet from the tears he shed. He peeled your hands off him slowly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I could never do that. But I want you to leave. I don’t care who’s side you’ll fight on in this war or if you decide to sit it out, just whatever you do, stay away from me. God, I can’t even look at you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t stop the sobs surfacing from your chest.

The flashback scenes stopped, and the blue fire was burning more than ever inside of you. Steve had been right all those years ago… if you overdrove yourself, it would consume you from the inside and everything else in your immediate proximity, too. But if this was the only way of defeating your father and saving the universe, so be it. Suddenly, numbness took the place of pain and you subjected to it.

A high number of people showed up to your funeral organized at Tony’s lake house. Everybody placed a white rose on top of your empty casket and expressed their condolences to Steve, but he wasn’t paying attention at all. He tried to, really hard, but he just couldn’t. Tony was the last person to go there and place his rose.

“You know Rogers, I’ve never been one to sugarcoat things and I’m not gonna lie this time, either.” he said, his words making Steve look him in the eyes. “From what I hear… If you had kept your mouth shut, she’d still be here… At least there’s a high chance for that. But there’s also a high chance that half of the fucking universe wouldn’t. Respect her choice... That’s what I’m trying to do.”

Respect your choice... These three words became Steve’s mantra – the first thing that came to his mind in the morning, and the last at night. They were the glue that kept the pieces of his heart together just enough to function as a human being.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Hello! I am in love with everything you write. You’re so creative and you’re inspiring me to finally sit down and write something again. I love reading fics with flustered Peter and DAMN you deliver. I’m wondering if you could do a drabble with 23? :)

Hello, @sydzygy! Thank you for the prompt! Your message was so wonderful that I wish I could’ve gotten to it sooner! I have been writing this one for a while though… the end kinda kept getting further away until, whaddaya know, it’s over 5000 words. Plenty of flustered Peter AND flustered MJ though!

Thanks to you too, Anon! I saw the “please.” I appreciated the “please.” I made the fic NSFW.

Venus, ParkerPairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle)Rating: E/NSFWWord count: 5602

23. “We bet and you lost, so you have to do it.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t intervene,” Peter hissed to Nedas they climbed the dune. “Some ‘guy in the chair’ you are.”

“I didn’t know he was going to make skinny-dipping thepunishment!” his best friend argued back. “How was I supposed to guess that,Peter?”

“You were supposed to stop it from happening in the firstplace!  You were supposed to make somekind of excuse on my behalf as soon as the words ‘I bet Penis can’t do abackflip’ were out of his mouth! I can’t let people know I’m good at thatstuff! It would totally blow my cover! I had to throw it.”

“If I can make a suggestion,” Ned huffed as they neared thetop, brushing through tall spikes of grass; the navy skyline widened. “Youshould work on not reacting to peer pressure. I didn’t make you take the bait.”

Peter sighed.

“I know, he just bugs me. I’m so sick of being called―”

“PENIS! PEEEEENIS! HURRY UP, YOU FUCKING TURTLE!” Flashyelled from the beach. The beam of his flashlight made looping patterns on theground.

Exchanging a weary look, Peter and Ned crested the dune andtook long, uneven strides down the other side, sand pouring into the sides oftheir shoes.

“Flash, come on, man,” Peter tried as they approached hisnemesis. “This is stupid. It wasn’t a fair challenge. Nobody can do abackflip.”

The other boy was unrelenting, grinning in the moonlight.Ugh. Peter just wanted to go back to the campground where the decathlon teamwas set up and have another s’more. Get into his pajamas. Maybe talk to MJ nowthat Mr. Harrington had hit the hay and quit supervising their every move.

“We bet and you lost,” Flash reminded him mercilessly, “soyou have to do it.”

Peter glanced at the dark lake, slow waves licking the shorein a way that made him want to sleep rather than submerge his naked body intowater that was going to feel a hell of a lot colder now that the sun had gonedown.

“Don’t wimp out, Penis.”

The nickname startled Peter and he gave Flash a sharp look.

“You better not look.”

“Oh please,” Flash said, rolling his eyes. (Peter was alittle bit insulted.) “I only have eyes for one man, and that’s Spider-Man.”

Ned failed to muffle his abrupt chuckle and his best friendglared at him.

“Sorry,” Ned mouthed. Flash’s well-known crush on Spider-Manwas a touchy subject for Peter. Shockingly.

The three of them watched the water for a minute. The soundof it, washing in and out, was really peaceful. What a beautiful night to beutterly played by some jackass. Suddenly, there was the vibrating of a phone.It turned out to be Ned’s.

“Betty’s air mattress keeps deflating,” he informed Peter,eyes on the screen. “She asked if I could come help her.”

“Go ahead,” Peter allowed with a half-hearted smile. “Youdon’t need to stick around for this.”

“You should be thankful I’m such a nice guy and didn’tinsist on an audience,” Flash piped up.

Ned gave Peter a sympathetic look and traipsed back towardsthe dunes and the campground beyond. Flash, completely devoid of sympathy,clicked his flashlight off and on impatiently.

“Let’s goooo,” hecomplained.

Peter groaned.

“Fine, but turn around. I’ll yell once I’m in the water.”

“Sounds fair,” Flash agreed.

Of course it was fair―it was the one part of this horriblemisadventure that Peter’d had a say in. Wearily, he shed his clothes, droppedthem in a heap on the sand, and sprinted for the water. He wasn’t going to callback to Flash until he was submerged up to his neck.

\

MJ didn’t know who was where―as far as she was concerned,being the team’s captain for practices and tournaments didn’t translate intobeing their babysitter for field trips and retreats―just that she was alone.And she liked it that way.

The campfire scene had been pretty mellow until Abe haddecided to experiment with physical equilibrium by balancing their quarteredlogs of firewood, stacking them higher and higher, flames dancing upwards toengulf them. Yeah, that was a little too Lordof the Flies for how MJ wanted her weekend to go, so she’d left thewarnings and chastisement to Betty. (Ned had just shown up to potentially MacGyverher air mattress so the air would quit whistling out every time she laid downon it, leaving his girlfriend free to stop Abe from burning his eyebrows off.)

She’d wound through a thin barrier of trees to escape theglow of the fire and reach the valley of the path leading up between the dunes;now, MJ was scrambling upward, trying to keep her footing while also openingthe new app she’d installed on her phone before they’d left the city. It wassupposed to display the segment of sky currently over her position and map outwhich constellations should be visible to her. As she moved her phone around,the view would apparently shift, offering her information from horizon tohorizon, in any direction. Camp was just too bright and too sheltered to giveher the celestial panorama she craved.

Right when she lifted her gaze from her screen to check outthe vantage from the top of the dune, a blinding light swung across her face.

“Oh my god, this is perfect, here.”

It was Flash’s voice, but MJ could only see pitch black.Asshole had completely wrecked her night vision. What was working was her senseof touch, tested when Flash shoved something against her stomach and shegrasped it instinctively. He was already half-running, half-tripping past her,heading for their team’s campsite while MJ attempted to figure out what she washolding. Soft… lumpy… something that felt like denim?

She stuffed her phone into her pocket (she wouldn’t be ableto see the screen until her eyes adjusted all over again) and staggered generallydownwards, aiming for the soothing sounds of a beach post-nightfall.

After a considerable amount of blinking as she made everyeffort to improve her sight, MJ figured she was halfway across the beach,somewhere between dune and lake. She was sufficiently close to distinguish adark shape in the water. Quickly, she brought the bundle she’d been carrying toarm’s length and realized it was an entire set of clothes. Minus shoes, but MJalmost fell over one of those on her next step. Had Flash murdered someone outhere and tricked her into finding the body? What a shithead.

“MJ?!”

She flushed like she’d been caught. She also jumped a littleand something dropped limply onto her foot.

“Uh…” MJ called back to Peter, recognizing his voice and thepale circle of his face a little ways out in the water. “…hey, Parker. Why do Ihave your underwear?”

Stooping, she snatched up the item that had fallen and wavedit over her head like a flag of surrender. She’d spoken before she was certain,but one of the pieces of clothing was definitely jeans and, out of the cottonythings that remained, well, whatever she was flailing in the air was the onlyone with an elastic band.

She assumed Peter was crouching because the whole team hadbeen swimming earlier in the day and found the drop-off was a good 100 yardsout, but he confirmed it. With a sudden splash, he started to rise out of thewater and head in her direction. He sunk back down just as abruptly and MJsmiled to herself at his embarrassed laugh, lowering her arm. Excellent, she realizedshe could see now―maybe not far enough to view Peter in detail but, obviouslyshe wouldn’t want that. Why would she want that? She wouldn’t.

“I’m not sure,” he called to her, “but I could guess. I thought I left my clothes on the beach.Between that and you having them, well, that’s gotta be Flash.”

“That clears everything up,” she replied wryly, tossing hisclothes down with a plop and walking to the water’s edge. Amusingly, Petershrunk back a bit. “Let me recite that timeline back to you. First, you’re downhere with Flash. Second, you strip naked. Third, Flash blinds me and gives meyour clothes. You’re pretty smart, Peter. I think you’ll agree that storyleaves a few highly suspicious gaps.”

He groans loudly and MJ grins.

“Flash tricked me into trying to do a backflip, I lost a betwhen I couldn’t, and he has zerosense of human decency.”

“But you can do a backflip.” She was puzzled.

“What?”

“I’ve seen you do a backflip.”

“You have? When?”

Woops. The perils of being very observant. It wasn’t likeshe’d spied on Peter, she’d just forgotten something after decathlon practice afew weeks ago, gone back, and seen him flip off the stage in the auditorium. MJdidn’t know his gymnastic talents were a secret, exactly, she just hadn’tmentioned them to anyone because initiating conversations still wasn’t secondnature. If these abilities were asecret, she wasn’t protecting him on purpose. Definitely not.

“Uh, don’t remember,” she said, airily blowing him off. Shefrowned. “Aren’t you cold out there?”

She saw him shrug.

“It’s actually not that bad. I had my head under for aminute, which is probably when Flash booked it out of here with my clothes.” MJsnickered and didn’t reply. “Ok,” Peter said after a few seconds, “well, I’llsee you back at camp.”

She stiffened.

“I’m not your personal courier.”

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean I didn’t come down here to deliver your clothes,loser. I’m not leaving yet.”

“But I’m naked!” he yelped.

MJ’s body was just trying to keep her warm without theexternal help of the campfire. That was all this sudden surge of heat was.

“You know, I did actually comprehend that when I had yourboxers in my hand.” She glanced sideways where she’d set his clothes. “You maywant to shake them out before you put them back on, by the way, unless youenjoy sand in delicate places.”

She could practically hear Peter’s weary exhale, butsomething in MJ insisted that she not vacate the beach just because he told herto. This wasn’t his private property and he had no authority over her. Shewasn’t his to… to… Heat flooded her again, face to feet. Yes, this wasdefinitely just her irritation at being bossed around by Backflip Boy.

“When are youleaving?” he tried.

“When I’m done.”

His words sounded like resignation to her, so MJ began torelax again, the way she’d felt when she’d strolled out of camp on her own. That was weird. This calm was something she usually (always) experienced whentotally alone. But Peter was here. Peter was here and he was lazily swimmingcloser, toes probably creeping along the sandy floor of the shallows.

“So… why’d you come out here?”

MJ started to explain, then paused to fish the phone thatwas her alibi out of the pocket of her jean shorts.

“Trying to see the stars better. There’s too much light atcamp.”

“Oh yeah? Cool!” He propelled himself forward some more. Atonce, she was panicky, heart beating too fast. She concentrated on her phone,the screen mostly dark but for the points of light representing stars.

“I said ‘stars’ not ‘Star Wars,’ before you get tooexcited,” MJ warned sarcastically, not looking up.

“My interest in space goes beyond the fictional.”

She raised her head, readying a snarky reply that never came.Peter had his shoulders above the water now, arms out to the sides for balance.As she stared, he tipped his head back, rewetting his hair, then brought it upagain. Her fingers went slack around her phone and she had to catch it with herother hand.

“What were you trying to see specifically?” he asked, wipingwater away from his eyes as it ran down from his hair.

It was a struggle to compose herself, but she did it.

“Well, I sure wasn’t looking for Uranus.”

Peter huffed and stroked with his arms, sending himbackwards several feet. MJ was laughing.

“Peter, don’t. It was a joke. I can’t see anything.”

It took a long, careful stare before he drifted neareragain.

“I know,” he eventually conceded. “I know you can’t seeanything. The dark, the distance, the distortion of the water…” She wanted tocough the word ‘nerd,’ but she restrained herself. “But I’m vulnerable here,”Peter went on, gesturing at himself with both hands. “I can’t leave.”

“Do you want to?” MJ asked without thinking it over.

Peter met her eye.

“Do you?”

She swallowed and cocked her head stiffly, jerky with afluttering anxiousness. It wasn’t a dare, it wasn’t a bet (yeah, Peter’dprobably had enough of those for one night), and yet there was something aboutthe way he’d said it―those two words.

Maintaining eye contact, MJ sat in the sand. This was herstaying. She shuffled her feet out of her flip-flops and flicked them off tothe side, then stretched her legs straight out until her heels were in the lake.Peter was also in the lake. Everything was fine. She inhaled with precision.

Oh fuck, she could see his bare chest.

Abruptly, MJ lost ground on the confident who cares that you’re nude below thewaterline? thing, wimping out and turning her gaze decidedly downwards toher phone screen. She read the words ‘Ursa Minor’ a dozen times, but kept her back stiff like she was concentrating very hard, focusing on something desperately important.

It wasn’t sustainable, this tense effort to ignore Peter.She couldn’t do it at school when he was a dork in the marching band and shesure as hell couldn’t do it when he was bare-ass naked in a lake. Being underthe broad, dark sky was suddenly claustrophobic. MJ couldn’t breathe. Her facewas overly warm. She was going to be asphyxiated by her attraction to Peter.YES! FINE! She was attracted to him!

“Ursa Minor,” MJ mumbled to herself in the fanatical tone ofa madwoman. She was Mrs. Rochester on a beach. Now there was a woman who would’ve been entertained by aconstellation-identifying app, stuck up in the attic all that time. God, MJ wasspiralling. Brontё was her crazy place.

“I know some stuff,” Peter said from the water.

She braced herself for the sight and, yep, there was his wetskin, just glistening away in the moonlight. How dare he.

“I could show you,” he said.

MJ’s mind totally fuzzed on what Peter might be wanting toshow her. Lake Peter. After-dark Peter. Wet Peter. Her heart was bursting likea bagful of popcorn kernels, one eruption after the next.

“Constellations,” he explained, as though she hadn’tresponded because he hadn’t been clear, rather than because she’d gottensidetracked wondering about his sexual savoir-faire.

“How are you going to show me? I won’t be able to tell whatyou’re pointing at.”

“I could come out… but I’d wanna dry off before putting myclothes back on.”

“Yeah, no,” she said immediately. “There’s a time limit onhow long I can respectfully avert my eyes before I get bored standing there anddecide to walk back to camp.”

“You could come in,” Peter replied quietly.

“In… the water.” MJ shivered involuntarily.

“It’s not that cold, right?”

He pointed at where her feet were partially submerged. Shewanted to laugh if the water temperature was the reason he thought she’dshivered. Was Peter just going to pretend that the biggest issue with hissuggestion was the possibility of her getting chilly?

“So you’ll be a gentleman while I get undressed?”

Instantly, he flushed and gestured before his words couldcatch up. Only he didn’t say what MJ expected him to.

“That’s not very fair.”

She gave him a stern look.

“Why not? Sure, I’ve been sitting here with your clothes,but I didn’t watch you remove them. I didn’t stare at your naked body! Not mostof it,” she added under her breath, seeing as she’d been eyeing him in thewater all this time.

Peter glanced down quickly, grinning like he’d heard whatshe’d said.

“I’ll turn around,” he promised, glancing up withsuspiciously trustworthy eyes.

“No.”

“No?” he choked out.

“Just… cover your eyes,” she requested, getting to her feet.“Then I’ll be able to watch you and know you aren’t somehow ogling myreflection.”

“What if I peeked through my fingers?”

MJ laughed because she knew Peter Parker would do no suchthing.

“Then your guilty expression would betray you the second youdropped your hands.”

He chuckled to himself.

“Yeah, good point.”

“So… cover ‘em, Peter.”

She saw his mouth fall open slightly.

“We’re actually…”

“We’re actually,” MJ confirmed, grabbing the hem of hert-shirt. His eyes grew wider. “Chill. We’re just two nerds talking about astronomy.It’s not a big deal.”

She began to draw her shirt up her stomach slowly, givinghim plenty of warning, and he slapped his hands over his eyes, splashinghimself with lake water. Pausing for nerves, MJ saw Peter shift to regain hisbalance after lifting his arms. The disturbance swished his wet cover to andfro and when it settled, she could see more of his chest. Plus all of hisarms―raised as they were. Face hot, she wondered how long it would take to heata beach by starlight, if they could put a hold on the sun. Because the nightwouldn’t last forever, MJ quickly yanked off her shirt and chucked it on top ofPeter’s clothes.

Her gaze slid intently from the heap to the boy in thewater. He was diligently blocking her out, palms flat over his eyes and fingersstretched up his forehead into the front of his hair. Although she couldn’ttell right now, MJ knew it would curl aggressively as it dried, like it hadthis afternoon after everyone went for a dip together. She thought about it,thought about him, and stared straight at him too as she unbuttoned her shortsand shimmied her legs to shake them down to the sand.

Peter’s chest rose and fell as she watched, reacting tosomething. Must’ve been a ripple in the water, she figured. Something shecouldn’t see from here.

“You haven’t asked,” MJ noted, unclipping her bra. Pile.

“W-what should I ask?”

“If you can look yet. And I didn’t say you should.”

There was a pause, thick like wet sand.

“You’re surprised I’m not more impatient? Do you want me tobe?”

She’d need sunscreen to protect the rest of her exposed skinfrom the way her face seemed to be glowing, ready to sear. How he’d flipped herremark around on her… MJ hadn’t expected it. Another question he’d put to herbluntly that sounded so innocent. But it wasn’t, not really. This wasn’t themsussing out who wanted the last hamburger and was too afraid to be rude. Thiswas a more complicated politick of desire and it couldn’t all be questions andevasions; eventually, there would need to be blunt answers for Peter’s bluntquestions.

“Just an observation,” MJ muttered.

She removed her underwear carefully, keeping them away fromthe sand by lifting her feet high and maneuvering the leg holes swiftly anddexterously around her heels to preclude transfer. All she left on was theelastic in her hair.

“I’m… I’m coming into the water now.”

“I can hear you.”

Maybe her racing heart was drowning out the noise of herfeet, because all MJ heard were tinkling slaps, then gentle swooshing as thelake greeted her ankles, her shins, the tender backs of her knees. Peterrotated towards her as she got closer, she noticed, still covering his eyes.Wading past him, MJ flicked water at his head―a couple feet away when her armwas stretched all the way out to the side. They both laughed. She didn’t stopmoving through the water until it came up just above her breasts when she wasstanding, wetting more of her skin as she sunk down.

Despite attempting to ease the tension (she felt it, he mustbe feeling it), MJ’s heart was still banging hard enough that she expected tosee ripples racing away from her on the surface of the water. She glanced backat the beach, then at Peter. The air was still and the rest of the world seemedpeacefully distant, if not empty. She hopped from foot to foot on the sandylakebed, swaying pleasantly in a way that belied how uncontrolled she felt onthe inside, not just because of the weak current her motions were creating.

Peter dropped his hands and looked at her. MJ drew her armsinstinctively inward, treading water in front of her chest.

“I thought you would wait until I said you could open youreyes,” she told him, not actually upset.

“I figured you’d be… uh… covered by now.” He gestured at hershoulders, peeking above the surface like the curved backs of baby geese.“You’re tall, but you’re not thattall.”

“You figured oryou knew? Am I supposed to believe that you hadn’t already calculated the depthof the water compared to my height, and considered the distance from the beach?The length of my stride, maybe?”

“I just didn’t want to show off.” Peter shrugged, grinning alittle. “Make you feel vulnerable.”

“Oh, you mean like I did to you,” MJ joked.

Incredible. All it took for them to have a non-abusiveconversation was less light and fewer clothes. (No clothes.) There weren’t awealth of ways to replicate these conditions once they got home. There was oneway―one very specific way―but she hadto remember her own excuse for their behaviour: they were just two nerds with ashared interest in astronomy. Every step they’d taken since she’d descended tothe beach was motivated purely by logic.

Yeah, better not consider that intentional state of denialtoo closely.

“Let’s start easy,” Peter suggested.

He flowed towards her―smoother than walking on land, thoughhe did that with a weird gracefulness too―and MJ’s heart flipped end over end.She looked at his face too long after he’d extended his arm, pointing above them.

“The Little Dipper.”

“Ursa Minor,” she corrected. “Yeah, I’ve pretty much gotthat one down.”

Peter appeared blue in this light. Blue and soft anddreamlike, like he was going to take her hand and fly her to Mermaid Lagoon.Wait, wrong Peter.

“Well… hmm.”

His concentration shifted upward, high above the both ofthem. MJ’s remained fixed on his face and the way the moon and the lake ruledits bright places and its shadows; noticing him across a classroom or from theother end of the lunch table wasn’t the same as performing a close study of hisprofile from less than three feet away. The definition of his jaw was asurprise, with his head tilted back. It trapped a shadow beneath it, like aledge. As MJ dragged her eyes slowly down, she tried to discern the exact spotat which that darkness dissolved into the light bouncing up off the water,making his throat pale and vampiric. Or maybe she was the vampire. She certainlywanted to bite down on his skin with her teeth.

MJ yanked the elastic from her hair and shook her head,trying to clear it. Unfortunately, it was as ineffective as shaking a snowglobe and expecting to see through it more easily. She was hazy with Peter, whowas pointing to Venus, checking to make sure MJ was staring at the correctdazzling speck.

“That one?” she asked, squinting although the light sourcewas minute and far, far away. (God,she thought, don’t say that out loud. Notafter you told Peter this wasn’t about Star Wars.)

Peter angled his head in her direction, eyes still on thesky.

“No, the bright one.” Absently, it looked like, he glancedfrom her to Venus, attempting to establish a guiding line he could point along.“Down a little… I think.”

“You think?”

Honestly, MJ wasn’t putting too much effort into findinganything. Her priorities had changed. There were so many fewer opportunities tobe alone with Peter than there were stars visible from the state of New York.

“Just…”

Peter sighed and suddenly his hands came around from behindher, holding underneath her jaw like he was lifting a heavy chalice with bothhands. Like the Holy Grail or something. His thumbs pressed to its hinge, hisindex fingers resting against her cheeks. He directed her manually, helping herfind Venus. MJ was going to burn him. Her face was too hot.

“Do you see? Oh.”

He must’ve snapped out of his science-daze and realized howhe was touching her. How they never touched. They might’ve shaken hands once.(It was three times―she remembered.) Peter’s fingers sprang away from her skin,jack-in-the-box quick, but MJ grabbed his hands.

“I see,” she said, turning weightlessly in the water. Thewet ends of her hair stroked her back.

She let go of one of Peter’s hands and, miraculously, itlanded on the back of her neck. The pads of his fingers were pruney. The otherhand MJ kept, her arm crossing her body to maintain contact.

“It is a bigdeal,” he told her. She vaguely recalled stating the opposite, lying. “It is.”

Cautious, MJ leaned her upper body closer, led by her lips.Her gaze went from Peter’s mouth to his eyes, mouth to eyes, up and down, likeflipping a light switch on and off repeatedly. When her lips actually met his,it was strange. She was too aware of them, the texture. Then, MJ was aware ofherself, trembling. They broke the kiss.

Peter held her face again with both hands and she saw thathis expression was calm, the way that his eyelashes flapped lightly with hiseyelids half-lowered, brown eyes warm and deep, staring at her mouth. Beforeshe could take a breath or think anything through, she kissed him again,quickly.

Heat burned through her, a match dropped in a trail ofgasoline. MJ inhaled hard through her nose and pressed her mouth firmly toPeter’s as he slid his hand to the back of her neck; his thumb dug in next toher spine and it felt really good, like a massage.

Tentatively, their tongues touched and retreated. Then,Peter surged forward like he knew what he was doing and, hell, she wasconvinced, finding his shoulders and grabbing on. Having someone’s tongue inher mouth was decidedly more thrilling in practice than in theory. MJ felt herhead tilting more to the side, rocking forward and back, as her lips moved withPeter’s.

While the sand dipped and swished under her curling toes,his desire was her solid ground.

The second time they paused to breathe, MJ noticed she’dwrapped her arm over Peter’s shoulder, and that his hand had caressed downwardfrom her neck to her upper back.

“You wanna get out?” he panted. In the moonlight, she wascaught up in counting the freckles on his nose; they’d darkened and multipliedsince the decathlon team had arrived at the campground.

She could tell he was trying to figure out what the rightthing was, so that he could do it. Typical Peter.

“No.”

He raised hopeful eyebrows and MJ felt shy. Not because theywere slowly circling, hands on each other in perfectly appropriate places(though on each other’s naked bodies nonetheless), but because she was admitting,out loud, in one syllable, that she wanted him.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Peter checked, head inclinedtowards hers. “Water’s not too cold.”

“You better not be peeing, Parker,” MJ threatened.

When he laughed in surprise, she threw her other arm behindhis neck and pulled herself close to him with a smirk on her mouth.

The kiss was softer than she’d intended. That was becauseher legs had rubbed against his underwater. It wasn’t just their knees bumping,which had been likely enough as they’d moved closer since they were bothcrouching slightly; the outer part of MJ’s thigh brushed along the inside ofPeter’s. The side of her slim calf encountered the solid curve of muscle inhis. It woke things in her, like the first spark catching on a crumpled pieceof newspaper when Mr. Harrington finally got the campfire going after insistinghe didn’t need a lighter (and being shocked and disappointed when Flash hadreadily produced one and offered it up to hurry the process).

MJ could tell Peter felt it too―not just her leg, the awakening. Which was really asuper clichéd and simplistic way to think about adolescent sexuality, particularly female sexuality, but yeah, it appeared that her relationship withher own passion was coming down to this. A moment with Peter Parker, floating between Venus and a shallow drop-off.

Peter’s hand swept down her back as he released a shakysigh; MJ felt as though she was waking up to find herself shuffling onto hislap, lifting her legs with sleepy slowness to hook them over his. They sanklower into the water together, chins briefly dipped.

“Hey, MJ,” he murmured.

She bit her lip.

“Peter,” she acknowledged.

This kiss was gentle on purpose, exploratory and calm enoughto slide through the surface of their pooled attraction without a ripple. Itdidn’t stir up anything more frantic, as her lips compressed steadily to his.Peter’s hand was secure on the small of her back, her arms loosely around hisshoulders. Their warm exhalations left the mildest currents in the air betweenthem.

He began to play absently with her hair, collecting it witha hand that skimmed behind her shoulders, then closed in a circle like a slackelastic. MJ smiled against his mouth and felt the little dimples of muscle inhis back when he moved his arm. Their tongues met again, but it was easy and incontrol. She thought about bobbing there all night with him and creeping totheir tents when the sky turned a thin, pale grey.

Then Peter had to go and shift his hand, allowing cool waterto touch the spot his palm had warmed on her lower back. Making her shiver.

MJ hadn’t known that about him, that such a tiny reactionwould cause him to respond like it’d been a seismic tremor, like she’d shakenthe ground beneath his feet, but when she moved, he moved. His mouth surgedagainst hers and he gathered her so close that her stomach was pressed upagainst his erection―her stomach and lower, legs splayed on his lap.

It was as sudden as an undertow and, fittingly, she didn’tknow which way was up. This, this had been lurking all that time she’d spentwatching Peter, this had been waiting for her while she was waiting for him. MJclung to it now (and to him) and couldn’t believe she’d spared him even onesecond to point at the sky. He wanted to show her Venus? Too late. She’d foundit for herself and, yeah, maybe it was more a Venus of the Greek goddessvariety, but Peter didn’t seem to be having any issue with that.

There was a wetness between them that wasn’t just the lake.Though the water worked against it, Peter and MJ―foreheads bumping lightly asthey closed their eyes and breathed hard―kept replenishing it, bodies grindingtogether out of sight below the dark, glassy surface. Her calves were tense asshe hung on to him.

All the external rubbing made MJ’s insides feel electric;maybe she was lighting up like a jellyfish, sonic blue. It certainly seemed toshock him when she drew in a demanding, shuddering breath and climaxed, handsclenching to fists behind his back, nails catching his skin.

“Oh my god,” he said, and she opened her eyes to thepleading scrunch of his forehead. A pair of eyes like lucky pennies in afountain. “Is it ok if I…?”

MJ smiled in satiated amusement and rocked her hips. Themotion urged an oversensitive wiggle out of her, until Peter’s hands held herfast, hugging her body to his. As his hips bucked, she instinctively nuzzledthe side of her face into his and scooped up a handful of water. He groaned hername and she felt immortal.

Lifting her hand, she slowly tipped the water out onto theback of Peter’s head. It rewet his hair and trickled along the back of hisneck. MJ parted her arms to give it a path between his shoulder blades and inthe meantime, Peter came. When his chin tucked over her shoulder, something hither hard in the heart. She hugged him back fiercely.

And they floated.

In the end, MJ got out first while Peter sat with his backto her in the shallow water, arms on his bent knees. She threw on her clotheswith her skin still wet (camp and the chance for a hot shower followed by dry pajamaswere close), then he did the same while she faced their lake.

Their hands had never touched each other anywhere beyondthose appropriate places, but their fingers linked as they climbed the dunesand they shared a shy, silent look over that little intimacy.

[opulentcherries]

hey there, eddie [reddie au] 1/3

pairings: reddie, stenbrough,

warnings: fuckton of cursing, angst, lots of sad shit, underage drinking,

words: 1.7k

extra: this is a playlist fic. each part is based on a different song, and the fic as a whole is based on the song hey there delilah by the plain white t's.

song of the chapter: no idea by all time low

synopsis: the losers are off to college and richie is inexplicably upset that he’s staying in derry. with his best friend and secret love of his life moving to new york, richie can’t help but dwell on the fact that his life is not at all moving in the right direction. so richie does the only thing he knows how, he writes it all down and picks up his guitar.

please don’t hesitate to send me an ask or leave some feedback in the comments <3 it motivates me to write and makes me feel like i’m not totally terrible so enjoy!

richie felt alone.

it was unusual for him to feel like this while he was with the others, but the heavy feeling in his heart was too strong to ignore.

the losers all sat in their typical hangout of the quarry, hair wet from swimming, voices hoarse from screaming. they sat on logs around a campfire, roasting marshmallows and telling stories of old adventures, smiles littering their faces.

richie sat on a lone log, watching all the others with hooded eyes. he coasted over them sadly, knowing that soon, none of this would be here.

graduation was in a measly three weeks and within a month they'd all be scattered about the map; bill and stan in boston, mike in new jersey, bev in philadelphia, ben traveling a ways away to toronto, eddie in new york and richie, well richie was gonna be stuck in derry.

the thought rested heavily in richie's mind as he twirled the marshmallow clad stick lazily in the fire, eyes set on his group. it had been the seven of them always, ever since they banded together in the seventh grade. best friends forever and ever is what they promised, but richie knew better. he knew that people never stay.

as this particular thought weighed in his mind, richie's dark eyes settled on his favorite loser, who was lost in a story that beverly and mike were reciting animately.

eddie kaspbrak, the boy that managed to steal his heart with a single look. the boy he annoyed constantly with the crude comments falling off his chapped lips. the boy who meant more to him than anyone in the entire world.

richie heaved a sigh, knowing that he'd never be able to tell eddie how he really felt. in four weeks time eddie would be in a big city with so many different people that eddie would soon forget about his old best friend in his childhood town.

you see, richie tozier knew he wasn't special. he knew he wasn't smart, and he knew that he would be stuck in derry for the rest of his life, in a dead end job that he hated. he wasn't nearly good enough for eddie kaspbrak, no, not even close. this richie knew.

eddie was someone so special, so extraordinary. he knew that the small, snarky boy would grow up to do great things, and if richie was truly the best friend eddie believed he was, he couldn't bring himself to hold him back.

richie wasn't sure what hurt more, knowing that he wasn't good enough for the boy he was so desperately in love with or knowing that in order to let him be the happy he deserved, he had to let him go.

"richie!" the lanky boy's thoughts were interrupted by the very boy always clouding them. "are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"what?"

bev looked him over in suspicion and confusion. "your marshmallow is completely fried, rich. the stick is nearly blazing.”

richie looked down at the charred marshmellow and shook the fire out. "oh. sorry."

the group stilled at the feeble apology, looking at their friend with confused eyes. this wasn't the richie they knew. no, their richie made the most disgusting comments at the worst possible times. their richie never shut his mouth, and their richie made them laugh like no other ever could.

this version of richie looked down at his shoes like they were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. he was quiet and sad, and it didn't sit right with any of them.

stan cleared his throat, "richie? what's wrong? find out your iq is the same as your age again?"

richie knew it was a joke, and he knew that stan was baiting him so they could have their usual snippy banter, but all richie could think of was how far away he'd be from them all because he wasn't smart enough to go anywhere else.

they'll forget you in no time, his subconscious reminded him cruelly. you're nothing compared to them.

when it seemed like his sad expression only deepened, mike spoke. "you know you can always talk to us, rich. we're here for you, always."

always.

richie shook his head and plastered a much too fake smile on his lips. "I'm fine, really you losers. jeez, you'd think I died or something the way you all look."

from across the small fire, eddie kaspbrak glanced over his best friend with worried eyes. this wasn't his richie, the boy that annoyed him at all times. he didn't like that richie was quiet and seemingly sullen, it was unnatural.

he also knew, that there was way more to richie's feelings than he was letting on. he was lying, and eddie knew he'd never let his guard down in front of the others. for this reason alone eddie waited for richie to look up, because no matter how much the troubled boy his feelings from the group, he could never hide them from eddie.

like expected, richie looked up when feeling eyes on him, and fell into the trap of eddie's chocolate colored eyes. eddie raised an eyebrow, question in his eyes. richie only shook his slightly in response, and eddie stared harder, almost daring him to lie.

beverly had been watching the encounter between eddie and richie, and she noticed how he was keeping his feelings from not only the group, but even eddie. it was unusual, because no one in the world was closer than eddie and richie.

she realized there must have been way more to the story than she knew, so she decided to jump in and save him.

"hey rich," the dark eyes slid from eddie to her. "you have your guitar right? why don't you play us something?"

richie breathed a laugh, "oh god no,” he says. “i'll probably fuck up your ears.”

ben snorted, "richie tozier being modest? never thought i'd see the day."

richie rolled his eyes. "i'm not being modest, I'm just not that good.”

eddie rolled his eyes then. "you're the best that i know, rich."

richie's heart could have melted right then and there, and all of a sudden, the overwhelming need to get his feelings out seemed to take him over. he nodded, and bev clapped, bill, stan, ben and mike smiling. eddie let his lips turn up slightly, but just simply watched as richie reached behind him and grabbed the guitar case.

"um..." richie paused, wondering what to play. he wanted something that would make him feel better, but he didn't want to give anything away. he couldn't afford for someone to catch onto his feelings. "okay."

richie lined up his fingers up to the correct chords and let his fingers do the rest, his voice coming out soft and small.

I was dreaming we were running

from a city burning down,

down, down, down

eddie felt his heart flutter at richie's deep, calming voice singing the familiar song, and he instantly sat up straighter in his seat.

richie continued to sing, letting his emotions pour into the lyrics, voice growing stronger.

now there's a piece of me

tells me I shouldn't leave

everytime I see your face

as if he was being compelled to do so, richie looked up at eddie, only to find the other boy already looking at him. their eyes connected and while richie knew the smile on eddie's face was purely platonic, his heart began to pound anyway.

because everytime

you come around

love, you take my breath away and i just wanna breathe until,

i take you in

i never want you to leave until

i take you in

but the truth is,

richie felt like his heart was being torn in two as he sang, the words hitting far too close to home. when he felt the tears start to build he looked down, hand still strumming away to the song.

she has no idea, no idea

that I'm even here

she has no idea, no idea

that I'm even here

that I'm even here

the remaining losers somehow felt, looking between eddie and richie that they were intruding on an intimate moment. regardless of how much richie buried his feelings, his love for eddie was too strong. they all knew how deeply richie felt for the other, and they hated that he did nothing.

some of them weren't sure if eddie felt the same and the others were convinced that he did, but either way, richie had the potential to be happy and he was denying himself the opportunity because he didn't feel like he deserved it.

she's so close when i'm so far away

when i'm so far away

let me dream

let me stay

she's so close when i'm so far away

when i'm so far away

i can sleep

i can dream

i can change

richie slowed his movements as he neared the end of the song, his voice slurring slightly as he placed more emphasis on each lyric. he looked up at eddie once more as he sang.

she has no idea, no idea

that i'm even here

that i'm even here

she has no idea, no idea

that i'm even here

that i'm even here

she has no idea, no idea

that i'm even here

that i'm even here

he has no idea

that i'm even here...

then suddenly it was quiet. richie could feel his heart pound in his ears and no one said anything. he fucked up, god, he fucked up. he had changed the pronoun without even realizing, while singing to eddie.

eddie felt his face warm as the word dropped from richie's mouth. he. was it supposed to mean eddie? was richie trying to tell him something?

his mind spun with questions and he wanted so badly to talk to richie, but the boy was already up and moving.

"richie-" bill tried to stop him, but richie rushed away, mumbling a half assed excuse of needing to get home, not sparing even the slightest glance to any of them.

especially eddie.

[anniebibananie]

oh hello it's me here for no reason but while i've got u what about a braime wedding date au

a/n: for those of you who have NOT seen the wedding date 1. i am sorry 2. here’s the trailer 3. essentially debra messing hires an escort to go to her ex’s wedding with her as a pretend boyfriend. it’s excellence (there’s also like a hot boat sex scene that isn’t featured in this fic but i think about on the daily)

“You’re telling me…” Margaery began, pausing to take a sip of champagne from her flute, “he’s your date.”

Brienne shuffled from foot to foot before adjusting the neckline of her dress which kept slipping down. It wasn’t as if she had much to worry about spilling out, but she still wasn’t used to showing so much skin.

“You have to wear it, darling,” Jaime had said as they checked into the hotel room. He had a fancy suitcase, the sort with compartments and built in organization, and he kept pulling different fine outfits out of it like some sort of Mary Poppins’ suitcase.

“I don’t wear stuff like this,” she grumbled, turning in the mirror. She felt large and clumsy. “Don’t call me darling.”

Jaime came behind her, his head peeking over her shoulder. They were about the same height, maybe her a few inches taller in her small heels. He was the sort of attractive that felt more fitting for a print ad than real life.

“I’m your hired boyfriend,” Jaime said. He rested his head fully on her shoulder now. “What pet name would you prefer I use?”

It had taken a near half hour of argument for them to decide on sweetheart, babe if it was used in a “non-lewd” setting, and, begrudgingly, darling. Brienne had assured him she was not the sort to use pet names, though, and he had conceded easily enough. Though, Brienne had learned quickly that Jaime Lannister didn’t really make anything easy.

“You stepped it up,” Margaery continued. “I’m proud of you, really. I wouldn’t have judged if you didn’t show up to your lousy ex-boyfriend’s wedding, but you showed up with the hottest date of us all.”

“He’s your brother’s fiance,” Brienne reminded her.

Margaery shrugged and grabbed another champagne as the tray passed, passing one to Brienne as well. “Yes, but he was sort of an asshole, wasn’t he? I mean, coming out on your two year anniversary? Nan and I were one hundred percent on your side for that, obviously.”

“Thanks,” Brienne said, throat suddenly tight as she watched Loras and Renly smiling and holding onto one another as they talked to some distant relative.

It wasn’t that Brienne was mad, even. Maybe not even embarrassed, exactly. The saddest thing was she was more lonely than anything else. Renly had been her best friend, and he still was in a way, but she had let him see all of her. She had thought he loved the all of her.

Then he had turned away and loved Loras. They were perfect for one another, and Brienne couldn’t be mad at Renly for not loving her even if she wanted to be. She had just wanted everyone to stop giving her those goddamn pitying looks. There was nothing Brienne hated more than pity.

As if sensing her discomfort, a hand came to graze at her lower back. When she turned, Jaime was giving her a soft smile. “There you are, baby.”

Brienne’s eyes narrowed. They had not allowed baby because you did not birth me, Jaime. It’s just creepy. He seemed to know the exact words running through her head because he smirked a little, satisfied with himself. He pulled her a little tighter into his side.

“We were talking about what a catch you are,” Margaery said with a tilt of her head and a mischievous smile. If Brienne didn’t know her better, she might have thought Margaery was flirting with him.

She was, actually, but Brienne knew her well enough now to know she did that with most of everyone.

“Oh, but I’m really the lucky one, aren’t I?” Jaime looked to her again and caught her eye. Brienne wasn’t very good at this whole prolonged eye contact thing. What was she supposed to do? Look at him lovingly? Smile? She felt like rolling her eyes, so she did that. He laughed lightly. “You can see she’s overjoyed by that.”

“You lay it on too thick,” she replied, barely thinking. “We all know I’ve tricked you into this, anyways.” It was close to the truth, but she played it off with a shrug.

“Do I look like I’m anywhere I don’t want to be?” he asked in a soft sort of way, something that tugged at the taut strings of Brienne’s chest a little. Gods he was good

“I’m… going to die alone,” Margaery said. Brienne had nearly forgotten she was there, and she blinked as she looked back to her friend. “I mean, this is fucking adorable. And I… am going to die alone.”

“I mean the Stark boy over there…” Jaime began, but Margaery was already pushing her shoulders back and reaching for another champagne glass as if a soldier readying for a fight.

“You’re right.” She tilted toward the two, and she reached out to pat Jaime’s cheek. “I’m going to go fall in love. Take care of my Brienne, she is the very best of us.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Jaime asked, but Margaery was already walking away. Brienne wasn’t sure who he was even saying it for.

__

“It was just a little kiss,” Jaime said with a roll of his eyes. “I was improvising.”

Brienne brought a finger up to push into the crease between her eyes. Coming to this wedding single could not possibly have been more painful than this, right? “I wish you wouldn’t improvise.”

“Oh please, it couldn’t have been that bad. I’ve been told I’m an excellent kisser. Not to mention, when was the last time you got any?”

Brienne did not feel bad about stomping onto his foot with her heel. Not a single bit.

___

“Brienne,” he cooed into her ear only an hour or so later. She was at the bar trying to decide if she wanted a mixer or it was late enough she could have the alcohol straight and no one would care. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t gentlemanlike, and I apologize.”

She sighed. She turned to look at him, and he looked genuinely sorry. His eyes were wide, his lips turned up the barest amount in an apologetic smile. Part of Brienne thought she might be a little mad still—he was probably used to smiling like that and getting his way, girls falling over themselves to accept him for his looks and charm. She’d never gotten anything without fighting tooth and nail.

“Accepted. Maybe,” she said. The bartender came over, and she was more than happy to smile at him. “Whisky. Straight.”

There was no way she was going to make it through this weekend with mixers slowing her down.

__

Jaime was in the shower, and she was sitting on the closed toilet seat lid as she used the small mirror in front of her to do the barest of makeup. She felt like a clown painting herself, but she at least liked the way the mascara made her eyes pop.

“Have you ever wanted it all?” she asked, the thought coming to her out of the blue. There hadn’t been much of a time where she had ever contemplated domesticity—marriage, family, life. The only time she’d gotten close had been with Renly, and now she knew how foolish it had been. “Love. A wedding. The whole to-do.”

His humming behind the curtain halted, and the two of them were left with nothing but the sounds of water. “Once, maybe,” he said. It was hard to hear through the shower, even harder with the way his voice softened. “I thought I was in love once.”

She grunted in agreement, feeling too embarrassed to say yeah, me too. It was nagging her, the idea that Jaime, though arrogant and sort of annoying, couldn’t find a partner despite all his advantages. “All the dates you go on, though, you haven’t found anyone who you thought might be worth sticking around for?”

“It’s a job.” The shower turned off. “Most of my clients aren’t like you, Brienne. They’re insipid or have more money than they know what to do with. They’re desperate and everything about us together is fake.”

Her throat went dry. She wasn’t sure why her name, why the distinction, seemed to matter. “And what am I?” She tried to keep it light, and when the curtain pulled back she bent closer to the mirror so she didn’t have to look at him.

“Everything about you is real,” he said as if it was as simple as reciting a grocery list or telling her a piece of sports trivia. It was just true.

She looked over then, because she couldn’t seem to not, and his chest was glistening with water, a towel held around his waist, and with all his physical beauty on display all she could seem to see was his face. It was earnest. There was no joke hiding anywhere.

You paid for this, she reminded herself. “Oh, you’re good,” she threw back, because men like Jaime Lannister did not say things like that to her. Even if it seemed like he was being genuine, even if she dangerously hoped it was true, she had to remember that this was his job. He was probably good at acting this way for anyone, even an unorthodox client like her.

He shrugged and turned away. The easy energy of the air seemed to evaporate. “You should try the pink lipstick, it matches the blush of your cheeks beautifully.”

She threw up her middle finger, and he laughed. She did not watch the muscles of his back as he exited the bathroom.

__

“I do,” Renly said.

There was too much emotion swimming in the room. Brienne felt a little like she was suffocating, and when Renly and Loras bent forward and kissed—the perfect sort of wedding kiss that was sweet and light and joyful–she felt herself clench. Jaime’s hand found her own, intertwining their fingers.

She looked over at him, and he was decidedly looking forward and away from her. When she didn’t turn away, he raised a brow and met her eyes. “What? Is holding hands not allowed now, too?”

“No, it’s…” she trailed off, turning her head back around to watch the happy couple walk down the aisle. “It’s fine.”

Her hand tightened against his. He clasped tightly back.

__

Brienne was surprised how long it was before her and Renly spoke, actually. The reception was going off without a hitch, and they had just about done the first dance to get the dancing going. Jaime had been politely speaking with Margaery again, though it was clear they got on as thick as thieves, and Brienne wanted more alcohol.

Renly appeared next to her, shooting her a goofy sort of filled with bliss smile. He was happy, and that made her happy. It was all the other stuff that was awkward—the fights they had never really addressed and the way Brienne still heard people whispering when she passed sometimes, hurtful words like she’s the one that turned him gay.

“I’m so happy you made it,” he said. The bartender brought him over a beer without asking and went to top up her own whisky. “I was worried you wouldn’t want to, but you’re my best friend. I hope you know that.”

“Of course I’d come,” Brienne said because that much was true. “You know I love you.”

His smile widened. “I do. And I love you, though clearly I will have to start competing for yours and Margaery’s affections with the way your boyfriend has won you both over.”

“He’s a real headache,” Brienne as as they both turned, backs to the bar, and watched the two of them laughing about something or other. They were the sort of people that made sense together—beautiful people who the world seemed to bend toward and for. 

“Oh, you’ve got it bad Brienne Tarth,” he said with a laugh. “I’m glad you’re happy. And for however much it matters, I hope you know how sorry I am about how everything happened.”

“I know.” She nodded, reaching out and giving him a big hug. When she pulled back she grabbed her drink and took a step away. “Go find your husband, Renly. I’m certain he’ll be missing you.”

“Husband.” He straightened his shoulders. “I do love the sound of that.”

__

“You alright?” Jaime asked.

Brienne smiled. She took his hand and leaned into his side, feeling light and daring. Feeling not all that much like herself. “Excellent.”

__

She was perhaps a little drunk. Maybe tipsy was better, but she was certainly struggling a little as the two of them giggled their way back to the hotel room. At some point she had kicked off her heels, and he was holding them from his fingers along with her purse. She pulled the hotel room key from her bra, ignoring the way his eyebrows went high on his forehead, and pushed the door open.

They stumbled their way through, and he tossed her things onto the small side table. Then he was holding her elbow to help keep her balance, but he was right there and she could smell his cologne as if it was everywhere. His eyes dipped to her lips, and though she was pretty bad at picking up signals she was fairly sure she wasn’t imagining this one.

One of his hands came up to her cheek. Her breathing halted.

“What– what are you doing?” she asked.

“Kissing you,” he answered, and he swallowed whatever words were going to come next from her mouth with his lips.

Brienne shouldn’t give into this. It was all fake, she reminded herself. She had paid for this, but he really was a good kisser and she was tired of giving up things she wanted. She was tired of having to fight all the time because the world was so very angry. She reached her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.

It was a little sloppy—wet and hurried—but then his hands came to her waist and he slowed it down. She felt as if she was in the hazy in between of moments. As if somehow they were in the blackness between freeze frames, and the world hadn’t kept moving forward yet.

The back of her knees hit the mattress, and she fell back with him shouldering his weight on his hands. He sucked on the lobe of her ear before moving to drop kisses down her neck. Brienne had never felt like this—like her body could no longer hold her, like she was pure want and wanted in return.

It didn’t feel real, but she wasn’t ready for that to end that. She flipped him around so she was straddling his waist, and when she caught a look of his face he looked like a man in prayer. 

“You are…” he began, hands reaching up to her face, her shoulder, anywhere he could touch, really.

She kissed him quiet, unsure if the words would ruin it. He didn’t need him to say it, anyways. His actions seemed to be showing her just fine.

__

In the morning, she woke up to find an empty bed beside her. She sat up, startled. His suitcase was still on the chair, though. He wouldn’t have left. They were quite literally on the same flight home. He didn’t wake up, look over at her, and regret everything, did he?

The door opened, and Jaime looked at her with a wide smile as he held a coffee cup in each hand. Brienne tugged the blanket up a bit higher, though he had obviously already seen it all.

“I brought coffee,” he said as if it wasn’t obvious. “Yours is black because you hate things that taste good, apparently, but I respect all your wrong choices as equally as my right ones.”

She laughed, the sound sudden and brisk. “I thought you might have left.”

He scoffed as he handed her the coffee. “Oh, Brienne, after a night of sweet love making like that? Who do you think I am?”

Jaime kicked off his shoes and sat back down into the bed. He looked at her then—softer, more free. He pushed some of her blonde hair away from her face and dipped to kiss the bare skin of her shoulder.

“Last night wasn’t about the job,” he said. “I’m here for whatever you want. I’d like to try.”

Brienne still had a hard time believing any of this could be real, that she could even deserve it, but he was looking at her like she was beautiful and she felt it. She felt like she had begun to open that door again, and he was peaking in and he liked what he saw. She felt as if she was doing the same in return. 

She leaned back against the headboard and drank a gulp of the coffee. “We’re going to have to negotiate the terms of endearment again, because frankly I truly can not stand baby, but—”

His lips cut her off. At some point, she was going to get really annoyed with him halting her words with his lips, but for now she was just happy to let him kiss her. 

[deathvsthemaiden]

🌻

Congrats! You have won access to a list of some of my most random thoughts in recent memory! Enjoy maybe (advance apologies for not linking any sources to any of the half remembered fun facts...don’t take them too seriously I never know what I’m taking abt 😬🤗)

•If you’re talking loud enough for people to hear you without trying or meaning or wanting to...it doesn’t count as eavesdropping!! @/my mother I am innocent! Learn some volume control 📢

•The older I get the more toxic and alienating I find the commonplace turn of phrase “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached!” Why is that painted as a bad thing...... 🥺💔❓I’d loveeee to forget my head. Just a few times. 👌🏽 As a treat.

•excluding the obvious, such as slurs, my least favorite words in the English language are landlocked (hideous reminder of my geographic state of affairs), and kismet. The latter is just so uglyyyyy the original language(s) it’s derived from make it sound so much better why can’t we just say kismat! I speak Urdu so I’m biased but like—

•I emphathize with fish an odd amount. I’ll eat them gladly and w gusto but I also find the level of suffering they’re allowed to feel staggering. It blindsides me. Blob fish used to (actually still do) freak me OUT!! Like my sister would scare me by showing me pictures of them w no warning. But apparently the reason they look the way they do is normally they live like 2000-4000 ft underwater and the decrease in water pressure as they’re drug up to the surface misshapes and deforms them and apparently this is very painful?? Even if it isn’t tho...the first time I read that. Immediate tears sprung into my eyes. And apparently some fish can choose to commit suicide? Like they just stop swimming and eating... god oh my god—!! They’re FISH!! Why are they so COMPLICATED!!! And I used to own a tank full of fish and usually fish don’t last long in our house! Rancid vibes you know? And my mom and I were so pleased these ones had lasted so long!! And then mysteriously they all just died too?? We did everything RIGHT! It was probably more than 2 years ago and we keep saying we’ll get more fish but I just don’t have the heart...I’m.....not ready to get hurt again so soon.

•apparently purple marble is/was a thing that exists. But the Romans used it up? Wild if true

•can’t stop thinking abt how elegant FGO!Bedivere would look in fencing gear

•My parents almost named me Sumbal

•You know how B&N has special gilded hardback editions of various classics? I will never forgive them for making their edition of Jane Eyre black/grey and WHITE!! MONOCHROME and BLEAK!! (Just bc it’s gothic!!!) It’s one of the most colorful books I’ve ever read!!! It swept me off my FEET! During the happiest parts of the book everything in my line of sight irl was GOLDEN I was in literal actual and true LOVE!!! I fell a-freshly in love w life bc of how much this book delighted me and they swaddle her in black and WHITE?? I can’t deal gentle reader I cannot deal—

•I have mixed feelings about poetry but I have a soft spot for The Tiger is out yes (you know the one, by the little boy? the ENERGY!!)+e. e. cumming’s The Grasshopper. On average poetry doesn’t make sense to me but grasshopper is the sort of (non)sense which I’m capable of appreciating. I dream of having a voice controlled fancy robot try to kill me so I can tell it to recite grasshopper and then it just explodes in confusion bc you can’t do that (recite grasshopper) 🐅 🤖

•I’ve lost track of the # of years I’ve waited in vain for Shoukoku no Altair to be localized and have official (physical!) English copies available for purchase, instead of just ebooks. Since the forgettable and upsettingly bad anime adaptation I’m afraid it’ll never happen ever...💔 I ache and yearn for naught but idk how to stoppp 😭

•The Cr*wn of L*ve by John Everett Millais is one of my most favorite paintings but I’m like. Embarrassed about it 👑 @my brain WHY. When did I become such a s*ppy gremlin. I blame ur fics and Jane Eyre Eve 😑 I was firmly in the ‘romance is a neurochemical con job’ camp just years before courtesy of my upbringing....what have I become 😶😶😶

•nothing screams “I hate you” like not appreciating+wasting food and also not returning the favor ever like it’s not a zero sum game but god is a little reciprocity too much to ask yes it is and yes I am sensitive and have been hurt before why do you as—🤐

•purposely vague but sometimes I wonder if I’d been one of those kids who put her head down on her desk in elementary school a lot and stopped listening to teachers whilst doing so maybe life, academically speaking, would go smoother for me now. But I was too afraid of getting in trouble and not yet the full fledged quitter you do (not literally) see before you today. Although the urge to put my head down wasn’t one I never felt...Missed opportunities alas

•I used to be able to handle spending any length of time in those mesmerizing aquarium tunnels and even enjoy myself in them but I’m now a more fragile and wise gal and can not even look at pictures w/o feeling intense WHJDNDNDND idek. They’re scary man. 🌊

•one of my favorite fun facts ever is this painter in 1881, Edward Burne-Jones finally realized mummy brown paint actually had bits of real mummies in it when having lunch with friends and was so unnerved he tried to give his tube of the paint a burial immediately. Like immmmeditately. (read this like a year ago in The Secret Lives of Color by Kassia St. Clair) 🎨 📖