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holykillercake · 4 years ago

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Love Ordeal

SANJI X f!READER

word count: 2k

summary: The Strawhts decide to play Secret Davy Treasure and Sanji doens´t stop asking whom you got.

highlight: ¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨

warning: F.L.U.F.F.

notes: Guys! This a part 2/3 of a request for a fluff where they have a s/o that made them a thing with crochet and how they would react. Also, Secret Davy Treasure is like Secret Santa, but you know. ALSO, there is a surprise at the end!

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

¨Just pick one, Luffy!¨

¨But which one?¨

¨It doesn´t matter!¨

¨Hmm, can I pick two?¨

¨NO!¨

Earlier that day, an old lady told Nami that whichever path Luffy chose would always lead to another Winter Island. So with the end of the year approaching and the cold weather, you decided to play Secret Davy Treasure, a great South Blue tradition.

It consisted of the participants writing their names on a piece of paper, mixing them in a bowl - or Luffy's hat - and drawing them. Whoever’s name you picked is who you will buy or make a Secret Davy Treasure.

You should have guessed that even something that sounded so simple would be complicated in the Thousand Sunny. The crew didn´t seem to understand nor follow the rules of physics, reality, and the game.

At first, Zoro folded his paper with his name on the outside; then Brook picked himself and didn´t tell anyone. Now you were struggling with Luffy, who couldn´t pick one because A) he wanted to know what was written inside, and B) he wanted to pick more than one.

While Franky, Usopp, and Chopper yelled at him, trying to make him understand, Brook laughed at the whole situation, and the rest of you wished to die and get reborn as clams.

Sanji adjusted the blanket around your bodies and hugged you tighter, chatting until the commotion was over.

¨Will you tell me?¨ he blew some smoke, and you tilted your head to look at him.

¨Tell what?¨

¨Who you got.¨

¨What? Of course no!¨ you laughed ¨This is not how you play it!¨

¨But we are a couple, Y/N-chan!¨

¨.., and?¨ you sang the word.

¨We shouldn't keep secrets from each other!¨

A cloud of white smoke came out of your mouth when you giggled before snuggling deeper in his arms.

¨Okaay,¨ Usopp crawled closer to you, defeated and holding Luffy´s hat ¨he will be the last one.¨

Despite your captain yelling that he should be the first to pick, you were all getting tired and opted to ignore him.

¨Thanks!¨ you used the blanket to cover yourself as you unfolded it.

A chuckle left your mouth when you saw the name written, and the blonde behind you tried to peek over your shoulder. But you were faster to put the piece of paper with the name of your boyfriend inside your bra.

You turned and gave him a peck on the cheek while he pouted.

You would have one week to come up with a Davy Treasure for Sanji, and you knew exactly what to do, but some butterflies still flew in your belly, wondering if he would like it.

As a matter of fact, he loved everything you did, from sweet love to extremely salty culinary disasters. He would find perfection in every little thing done by you.

Enjoying your last days on the island of Snow Globe Pole - yeah, almost as bad as ¨Long Ring Long Land¨ - you decided to tour the city, looking for what you needed to make your gift. Or rather, to crochet your gift.

That was the easy part, for you were on a winter island, yarn and wool were pretty abundant. Every style possible of every possible color, anything that crossed your mind was available in the store. It would have been distracting if you didn´t have the colors already chosen.

But again, so much for an innocent game. So much for a bit of fun. So naive to believe that Sanji would stop asking you whom you picked.

In his defense, he had gotten calmer during the first night. But after seeing the bag you brought from the store, he became even more annoying.

Charming, loving, but still annoying.

¨It´s not Franky, right? His hands wouldn´t fit in it.¨

¨His regular-sized-robotic-mannequin hands would.¨ you looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

You could almost see the gasp stuck in his throat and his heart skipping a beat.

After that, he kept bringing you desserts, offering massages, and doing everything in his power to bribe you. Skypiea Sanji was not the real Love Ordeal. Secret Davy Treasure Sanji was the real Love Ordeal.

¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨

He grumbled ¨I love you¨ back among some other things and marched to the kitchen with flames on the top of his head. You chuckled and went back to your colorful wools.

Before you chose his gift, you thought about Sanji and the things that he liked or needed. From cooking to smoking and women.

Cooking for him would be outrageous. You wanted to give him something amazing, and you couldn't compare to him in the kitchen. At all.

Women. You were the only woman he wanted and needed, and honestly, you were the woman for the job.

Now, smoking. You would not buy or make him cigarettes, obviously. But he had this adorable and clumsy thing of always burning the tips of his mittens whenever he lit a cigarette.

Because of that, you decided to crochet him one of those fingerless gloves that come with a mitten flap so he could cover his fingers once he was done. Like that, he would be warm and natural disaster-free.

¨There is orange, Y/N-chan! You got Nami, right?!¨ you jumped and almost stabbed yourself with the hook when he yelled in your ear.

¨Oh, my sweet Davy Jones, give me strength...¨ you whispered ¨There is also purple, Sanji-kun. It could be Brook or Robin.¨

He pondered over it a little, frowned, and made his way to the door.

¨Hey!¨ he turned with sad puppy eyes ¨Is this really important to you? To know who I got?¨ he nodded.

You gestured with your head, telling him to come closer. A big and bright smile appeared on his face, and your heart beat stronger. That smile, you would punch the Red Line broken to create another All Blue for that smile.

Oh, how you love this cook.

¨Ok! Just because I am asking I´ll tell you first, ok?¨ he spoke with a lower voice but still sparkly. You smiled and nodded. ¨I got Chopper! And I bought him a new backpack with a lot of compartments for his medical stuff.¨

The way he paid attention to the tiny details made you melt. He was always taking care of others, complimenting the crew - except Zoro - and celebrating even the smallest of the successes.

He showed you the blue backpack, very similar to Chopper´s current one, but a lot stronger, prettier, and more practical. He would love it, no doubts.

¨Well,¨ you began ¨I got... Usopp.¨

You felt terrible about telling him a lie, but you couldn´t spoil your surprise.

¨Since we´re going to winter islands, I don´t want his finger to get tangled when, Uhm... he´s picking his Ketchup Stars, Green Stars, or Let´s-scare-creepy-girls-to-death Stars. I really hope he likes it.¨

If you were not paying enough attention, you would have missed Sanji´s disappointed look, which he quickly hid with a kind smile.

¨You always think about everything, Y/N-chan. He will love it.¨ he kissed your forehead and went back to the kitchen.

You waited until he closed the door to cringe ¨You are going to hell, Y/N.¨

Finally, the Secret Davy Treasure day arrived. You would exchange gifts and then have a nice dinner if Luffy didn´t make a party out of it. He definitely would.

But you were also grateful that today was the day. Since you told Sanji that you had picked Usopp, he has been acting a little upset. The other guys didn´t notice, but you did.

You would always notice. And you had an idea why.

The gift exchanging rules were pretty simple. The Secret Davy had to offer information about the person receiving the treasure, and the others had to guess.

It started with Usopp, whose Secret Davy was Franky. He gave him a bunch of super tools and some colored light bulbs for the ¨Party Nipple¨ idea.

Franky´s Secret Davy was Robin. He gave her a journal with waterproof pages he created.

Robin´s Secret Davy was you, and she presented you with a beautiful copy of a fictional adventure book since you were always reading them on the ship.

Then it was your turn. You held the gift wrapped in a shiny blue paper and began to describe your Secret Davy.

¨My Secret Davy is... slightly annoying sometimes.¨

¨It´s the stupid-eyebrow.¨ Zoro said.

¨Shut up, marimo head!¨

You continued after Nami punched them. ¨My Secret Davy always takes care of us.¨

¨It´s Chopper!¨ you shook your head.

¨Hmm... my Secret Davy is an exceptional fighter! Really strong!¨

¨It´s me!¨

¨No, Zoro! It´s me! I will become the Pirate King!¨

¨Shut up, you two!¨

¨My Secret Davy is...¨ you looked at Sanji and smiled ¨... loving and caring.¨

He looked back at you, confused. Why would you say those about Usopp? Not that he wasn´t loving and caring, but... still.

¨My Secret Davy is... the man of my dreams, the prince of my fairy tale, and the love of my life.¨

A minute or two passed while everyone waited for Sanji to say something, but he remained frozen with a perplexed expression.

¨Sanji-san, I think the treasure is yours.¨ Brook said calmy.

The cook made his way to you slowly, taking the gift from your hands and opening it gently, without tearing the wrapping.

Did he get upset because of your lie?

¨Sanji...¨ you called him, but he kept staring at the gloves.

You saw his eyes fill with water before he excused himself and exited the deck, leaving everyone staring at you.

¨I don´t... I´m gonna...¨ you pointed and left too.

When you entered your room, he was standing, back turned to you. Was he really crying, or you saw things?

¨Sanji-kun?¨

¨You remembered...¨ he turned around, still holding the mittens ¨These colors...¨

¨Yeah, they don´t really match, but...¨

¨I wanted it so much, Y/N. When I saw it, I wanted it so much.¨

He rushed in your direction and hugged you tight. He hugged you and you felt all his emotions, you felt the weight he carried in his heart. Not a bad weight, just the weight of missing someone you love.

You knew that that was the reason he was pestering you so much, the colors. You had chosen the colors that Zeff, Sanji´s mentor, wore.

The fingers were orange and purple, like his striped shirt. You added yellow details of his hair; the blue of his ascot, and the white of his apron.

As you said, they didn´t match, but apparently, Sanji didn´t care.

He would always share stories about their lives and cook recipes that Zeff taught him. Despite him always calling him old man or damn geezer, the Red Leg was his father.

¨Thank you, Y/N-chan. I loved it.¨

The sound of him sniffing made you hold him stronger.

¨I miss that damn geezer.¨

¨I´m sure he misses you too, Little Eggplant.¨

¨Oi!¨

You squeaked and laughed when he threw on the bed.

¨I´ll show you Little Eggplant!¨

Hey, Guys! SURPRISE! Here´s my first decent art? hahaha THE MITTENS!

I don´t know if the quality dropped. I´m using krita and still don´t know how to adjust the settings stuff when I´m saving a jpeg. Anyway, I hope you liked it!

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

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Small Gods: Lost Objects - 1

Lost Objects: A Thor Fanfic

Lost Objects Masterlist | More Small Gods

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Thor x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 1831

Warnings: Angst, PTSD, Grief (smut on series)

Synopsis: Thor has lost a lot in a very short period of time and he’s worried about losing himself too. He goes to the one person who understands loss.

A/N: Reader is a minor god.

Chapter 1

Thor was lost.

He had been for a while now, though it was hard to measure. Partially because he had lived such a long, long time and most of it had gone by without much disrupting his enjoyment or general world view and then all at once it was just one thing after another and he couldn’t quite seem to catch his breath.

Perhaps it had begun to lose himself back when his father had first banished him to Midgard. He had certainly felt lost for a while there, but usually, he looked back at that as the start of finding who he truly was. Becoming worthy of Mjolnir and meeting Jane had been so significant, even when he had been forced to destroy the Bifrost and watched his brother fall to what he had thought was his death, Thor has still felt himself.

After that, it was one thing after another. A barrage of pain and loss and he couldn’t keep up with it. His mother, his brother, his relationship, his father, Mjolnir, his friends, his planet, his brother again, half of the universe, more of his friends. Somewhere in all that loss and grief and guilt, he’d lost his direction and that core feeling of who he was, and he didn’t know what to do so he could stop feeling all this pain.

Then, in one single moment of clarity, he thought of you.

Midgard was not a world of gods. Gods would visit, of course, Thor himself favored the small blue planet, but the line between science and magic was large, and rarely were gods born on the planet.

Yet sometimes the magic would seep through. Maidardians liked to pray even when they didn’t know they were. They would wish for certain things or give worship to them. If enough did, then a god would be born. They were minor deities and rarely held much power. Yet they served their function and grew with the population's devotion.

None were prayed to quite as often as you.

You were not an easy person to track down. Thor knew that he had to find you in the last place he looked or else it would be not at all.

So he started at the finish. Going to the last conceivable place on the planet you might find a minor deity and announcing loudly that he would give up looking after trying the small cabin on the side of the hill. Just as he put his hand on the door handle it swung open and he was greeted by you.

Along with the cable knit sweater that was three sizes too big, spotted with holes, and frayed at the hems, you wore a pair of jeans that were obviously someone’s favorite but based on the fit, that someone was not you. You had a pair of mismatched socks on your feet, a single fingerless glove on your left hand, and a ring on every finger on your right, most of them the engagement variety.

You looked up at him and smiled. “Thor,” you said warmly. “Are you lost?”

He smiled, trying to put on the brave face he wore for everyone. He was strong after all. The strongest Avengers. If he showed weakness, then he’d be someone who wasn’t Thor, the god of thunder.

“Yes,” he said. “No. That is… maybe.”

You stepped aside and he ducked his head under the door frame and entered your cottage. It was impossibly large inside what had seemed like a tiny building. It was cluttered in the sense that a hoarder who hadn’t left the house for fifty years except to bring more things in, is cluttered. There were stacks of parcels that were addressed to other people, baskets full of socks that lacked a pair, toys, and pacifiers that looked sad and weathered, bowls sat on top of every flat surface full of jewelry in many shapes, sizes, and styles.

Thor wound his way through until he found a couch. It had seen better days and he had to move a one-eyed teddy bear to take a seat.

“Can I get you a drink? I have tea or coffee? Not much else I’m afraid,” you offered.

“Coffee,” Thor said. He wasn’t sure he really wanted it, but he was grateful for the opportunity to get his thoughts in order.

The sound of you puttering around in the kitchen was the only sound at all. Thor thought of all the things he had lost and exactly why he had come here. When you returned he still wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say. You handed Thor a mug. It was black with the silhouette of a penguin on it with the words ‘LINUX, open mind, open-source’ written on it. You had a teacup, it was floral and had gold around the rim.

“The coffee is Kopi Luak,” you said as he took the mug from you. “It was confiscated in New Zealand customs and ended up here.”

“Kopi Luak?” Thor asked.

You shook your head and sat down beside him. “The beans are passed through the stomach of an animal called a Civit before being harvested and roasted. I can’t say I approve of the process, but I am limited to what passes through here,” you explained. “Now, what is it you’ve lost?”

“My brother…” Thor said, the word coming out quickly like it was determined to jump its place in his mental queue.

“Oh, Thor,” you said, putting your hand on his. “I deal with lost things. People? They are above my jurisdiction. The prayers for lost people are more for your realm than this one.”

Thor sagged and put his cup down. He ran his hands through his hair the pain and frustration he felt almost overwhelming him. “There’s been so much. Too much. My whole family. My friends. Asgard is gone. I don’t know where to go or what to do. I feel lost and I don’t know how to find my way back out.”

You took his hand. His large palms dwarfed yours. “Thor, I am a minor god,” you said. “What you have been through is awful and if I could help I would, but I deal in socks and loose change. Your identity is yours. You still have it. It’s here -“ you touched his forehead and moved your hand to his chest just above his heart. “- and here.”

Tears pricked Thor’s eyes and he wiped them away in frustration. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

“That I can understand too well,” you said. You wrapped your arms around him and very gradually he let himself sag into your arms. “You are very young,” you said quietly. “It is a large burden to carry. Can I give you some advice? I can’t promise it will be good.”

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking with the desperation he felt.

“Grieve, Thor,” you said. “It isn’t weak to love people. It isn’t weak to feel pain at their loss. Let yourself have your sorrow. Feel it. Let it out. I am a god on a planet of mortals. I have lost more than has ever come to me. They were your parents and your brother. Your friends. Your home. You loved them all and now they are gone. That is terrible. It’s terrible, Thor. They didn’t deserve that and neither did you. Grieve. Feel sad. Cry. Wail. Scream. If you don’t experience your grief, you lose more of yourself than you can possibly know.”

“I am the strong one,” Thor said. “I can’t show such weakness.”

“There is nothing weak about experiencing your emotions,” you said gently, your fingers tangling into his hair and massaging his scalp. “Besides, who do you need to be strong for now. It is just me here, everyone else is gone.”

He wrapped a large arm around your lap and he started to cry. It started small and silent, his tears just running down his cheek as he pressed his face into your lap. Soon he was crying in big wracking sobs. He cried for his mother and his father. He cried for Loki. For Jane. He cried for Heimdal and Fandral and Volstagg. For Asgard, the home where he grew up and had so many happy memories. He cried for the people he couldn’t save and for the ones he did that he let down when he didn’t have the strength to lead them. He cried for dwarves on Nidavellir and for Mjolnir the weapon they had forged him and was like a friend in of itself. He cried for Natasha and Tony. And for the fact that one day he would lose all the rest too.

You held him, never once telling him to quiet. You just let him cry in your arms, your fingers moving over his scalp and caressing his hair.

As the tears slowed and then stopped he felt a strange sense of relief. He didn’t feel better, but lighter perhaps. He sat up and wiped his eyes. “Thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for,” you assured him. “Come; there is something I have which might interest you.”

You got up and he followed after you. You led him past more parcels and piles of letters. They started to appear yellowed with age and as he wound through the room the artifacts got older too. Barrels of spice and coins from countries that no longer existed. Looms of silks that had been damaged by saltwater. You stopped at a table. It was remarkably bare except for a piece of velvet draped over a small pile in the middle. You lifted the plush fabric and revealed a pile of broken metal and what was clearly the handle of Mjolnir. He knew it better than he knew himself. The length that was too short due to Loki’s meddling. The intricate scrollwork on the cap that held the leather strap he used to keep hold of it. The dark wood with the silver swirling up its length. It was his hammer, broken but his.

“Each time you prayed that it could be returned more of it came to me. There is still some missing but if you want you can stay. Pray for it at night and I think together we can repair it,” you explained.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Thor asked as he ran his hand over Mjolnir’s handle.

“It would be an honor,” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had company and it’s never been from someone of your status.”

He turned and looked at you, a frown forming on his face as you smiled up at him. “I am not a king.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” you said. “But if you believe it is, then you are one step closer to finding what you’ve lost and I guess I can help after all.”

// NEXT

#thor #thor x reader #thor odinson #thor fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #lost objects

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hottestthingalive · 4 years ago

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a storm in your eyes (lightning and dark skies)

It is then, with Virgil curled up against him, wet hair soaking Logan’s neck and the smell of hot chocolate in the air, that Logan realizes he loves a thunderstorm in human form.

His best friend.

Oh, god, Logan is in love with his best friend. And also his roommate. And also his favorite person in the whole of the universe.

(He’s pretty sure that if Virgil could hear his thoughts, and if, y’know, Virgil wasn’t the person in question, he’d roll his eyes and say, “Oh my god, they were roommates.” The idea nearly makes him laugh.)

–

Notes: Thank you so much to @snek-snacc, @smileyzs, @confused-sunflower, @xaimelarks, and all my other followers for putting up with me ranting about this story, and helping me edit. Y’all are the best!

Edit: After publishing this, I got this AMAZING piece of art from @ent-is-undecisive / @birdsongisland! Go check them out, because they’re insanely talented, and looking at this piece makes me so so so happy!

Two sequels also exist for this now!

waffles and wedding vows (promises and proof)

songs and stars and silence (of loving you)

Hope you enjoy!

Relationships: Romantic Analogical, background romantic Royaliceit, background romantic Intrusleep/rem^2, platonic drlamper

Words: 6885

Ao3

–

Logan Sanders falls in love with a thunderstorm.

Well, not a thunderstorm, exactly. As far as Logan knows (and he knows quite a lot), a tempest, no matter how powerful, cannot take the form of a human.

Still, the first time the boy with a hurricane’s eyes enters Mugnificent (the coffee shop Logan very reluctantly works at), he swears the smell of ozone fills the air.

His name is Virgil Foley, and he sweeps into Logan’s life like a summer storm, filling it with wind and chaos and unmatched wild beauty.

The first time they meet, it is 5:26 in the morning, and he’s considering revolt. Yes, he needs this job to supplement his scholarship, but being up this early is awful enough to warrant mutiny. Besides, customers are few this early in the day, and thus the tip jar is woefully empty.

The door opens with a ding

(there is a smell like lightning)

and in walks a person with dark hair tied in a bun under a black beanie, rummaging around in their backpack. Their bag is covered in pins, and Logan notes a rainbow one near the center.

“Hey,” they say, and he meets eyes the color of stormclouds, a grey bordering on purple and blue simultaneously. “Can I just get a small coffee, please? Black is fine.”

“Yeah,” Logan nods. “Name?”

They glance around the empty Mugnificent with a raised eyebrow, but reply with “Virgil,” anyways.

“Nice to meet you, Virgil,” says Logan, and he’s not normally one for small talk, but he also is sleep-deprived, and too tired to have any sort of filter. “I’m Logan.”

Virgil relaxes, and they hold out a hand for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, too. I use he/him pronouns, by the way.”

“Ah, yes,” Logan nods, returning the handshake. “He/him for me, as well, thank you.”

Virgil pays and waits by the counter as Logan goes to prepare the coffee, scrolling through his phone. There is a comfortable silence as he makes the drink, which Logan spends mentally cursing out Roman, his coworker who was supposed to arrive for work thirty minutes ago. “Here,” he says finally, holding out the cup for Virgil to take.

“Thanks.” Virgil is wearing fingerless gloves, and his nails are painted a bright purple. They shine in the fluorescent lighting. “Have a nice day, Logan.”

“You too,” he replies, and it seems too little. Logan doesn’t believe in magic, or gods, or destiny, but as he watches Virgil turn, about to walk out the door, something twangs in his chest. Despite himself, Logan opens his mouth, searching for something to say, anything that will make him stay.

He blinks, about to speak, and Virgil is gone.

A few minutes later, it begins to rain.

–

The second time he meets Virgil, it is in his psych class.

Logan has always liked psychology. It’s fascinating how the human brain works, he thinks, and even if he isn’t always so good at understanding emotions, he’s quite good at the science behind them. His appreciation for said science is the only reason he signs up for the class at all, when it has practically nothing to do with his astrophysics major.

He’s just about forgotten about the boy with eyes of a storm by the time he sits down for the first psychology class of the semester, pulling his computer and textbooks out of his own bag, and setting them before him. Logan cracks the knuckles on each hand individually, a nervous habit he’s had since he was in high school. He’s done his best to break it, but he supposes, as annoying as it is, it’s better than some of the alternatives.

Case in point, the boy from Mugnificent, who walks into the room nervously tapping his thigh while chewing at his lip. There’s a split in it, one that shines a bright red against the chapped surface, and Logan wants to wince just looking at it.

His eyes flash with recognition as he spots Logan in one of the back rows, and he pauses. “Logan, right? From the coffee place.”

“And you’re Virgil,” Logan smiles, and okay, maybe he hadn’t forgotten Virgil so much as attempted to forget him.

“Can I sit there?” he asks, nodding to the seat beside Logan.

It turns out Virgil is smart, and funny, and just a little bit snarky, and a English major minoring in psychology. He’s got all kinds of nervous habits, chewing on his lip and tapping out rhythms known only to him and drawing on every available surface, and Logan often notices a tendril of ink wrapping around one of his fingers from under his gloves.

They become fast friends, him and Virgil, bonding over a love for space and science and poetry. He starts coming to Mugnificent for coffee more often, and Roman teases Logan incessantly about it.

“You’re finally making friends!” he pretends to sob, throwing his arms around him, and he has to shove Roman away, rolling his eyes. Virgil is stifling a laugh behind one gloved hand, and Logan mouths “Traitor,” at him, though he isn’t really mad at all.

They fall into patterns -- psych and history and statistics together, always seated side by side, sometimes accompanied by Roman or Patton or Remus or Janus or any one of their expanding circle of friends. The two of them buy each other coffee, edit essays, go out for junk food (that Logan complains about but secretly loves) with their friends.

Virgil begs to paint Logan’s nails one night as they watch documentaries together in Patton and Virgil’s dorm room. His tongue sticks out of his mouth slightly as he focuses on the tiny white dots he’s adding, and Logan ends up loving the night sky that graces his fingers. In return, Logan styles Virgil’s long hair into a crown of braids.

“Your Majesty,” he bows as he leads Virgil to the mirror.

“If I’m royalty now, I demand a feast to celebrate,” Virgil grins, admiring his hair. “Sir Logan, this calls for pizza!”

“All the junk food you consume is going to kill you one day,” Logan sighs, but he’s already dialing their favorite pizza place.

They eat dinner seated on the floor, holding paper plates and drinking soda as they watch Cosmos. Patton returns to the dorm a few minutes later, accompanied by Janus and Roman both, and snags some of the pizza for himself – luckily, they’d thought to order extra, as soon Remus, Remy, and Emile all show up, too, crowding into the dorm room and around Logan’s laptop. The documentary is switched to Big Hero 6, Virgil showing off his hair and Logan his nails as the others admire them. Soon Virgil is breaking out his nail polish again, painting delicate puppies on Patton’s fingers, and Logan is teaching Roman how to do the same hairstyle on Emile’s curls.

It’s a Saturday night, so they feel comfortable all crashing in Patton and Virgil’s room, squeezing far too many young adults into one small space. Emile giggles that it reminds them of sleepovers they went to when they were in elementary school, and Remus points out that they ought to play Truth or Dare with a manic grin. Virgil quickly puts a stop to that, however, distracting Remus with conspiracy theories and carving marshmallows to look like Lovecraftian monsters, and Logan wants to laugh because Virgil is very much a mom friend, despite his protests to the contrary. Still, as he sips hot cocoa with a marshmallow Cthulhu staring up at him from the mug, he has to admit it was a good idea. They all get into the fun, carving marshmallows with whatever cutlery Patton and Virgil have in their room, and eventually Monster Mallows will become a tradition for all of their friend group.

When he falls asleep that night, lying on the floor in the blanket fort Patton and Roman had insisted on building, he dreams of rain and lightning, across dark skies that resemble Virgil’s eyes.

–

Logan realizes Virgil is his best friend in the middle of winter, when he shows up at Mugnificent at the end of his shift, ordering two coffees and taking them as Logan gets ready to leave. “Sorry, Roman,” Virgil says, though he doesn’t look sorry at all as he hands Logan one of the drinks and reaches out to hold his other hand. “C’mon, L, we’ve got to hurry if we’re going to get there in time.”

“Where are we going?” Logan raises an eyebrow, throwing on his coat and waving goodbye to Roman (who is saying something dramatic about a grievous betrayal) as he sips at the coffee. It’s perfect, his order exactly.

“Look!” Virgil grins as they leave the coffee shop, and it’s snowing, white flakes falling around them and coating the ground. Some of the cars nearby are already covered in it. “C’mon, we’ve got to get to the park.”

“Wait, why?” he asks. “Virgil, this looks rather like the makings of a blizzard. We should probably go back to our dorms so we can prepare if we get snowed in.”

“I know it’s a snowstorm,” Virgil rolls his eyes, and his stormy eyes are bluer than Logan’s ever seen them, shining with excitement. “Now, let’s go!”

Logan should probably argue more, but he’s laughing as he gets pulled along, the two half-running towards the park.

They slow down at the top of a hill already lightly coated with snow, and Virgil reaches into his bag to pull out a picnic blanket. “No,” Logan protests, but he’s cackling as Virgil yells “Snow picnic!” and spreads it over the snow.

“This is going to turn into a blizzard,” he manages to say, stifling his giggles. “We are going to be buried alive because you wanted to have a picnic in a snowstorm.”

“Oh, shush,” Virgil grins, flopping down onto the blanket and digging into his bag again to retrieve two bagels wrapped in tinfoil. “Drink your coffee and watch the snow with me, Logan Sanders.”

The bagel he hands Logan has Crofters jam instead of cream cheese spread across it, still warm from toasting, and Logan could kiss Virgil if they weren’t very platonic…

Well, it feels like they are a whole lot more than friends, at this point. There’s something about their relationship that feels different from the ones Logan has with their other companions, be it Remus or Emile, Patton or Janus, Roman or Remy.

Are they best friends?

He asks, and Virgil merely grins and says “I hope so.”

It’s amazing, lying there as they watch the sky, munching on bagels and sipping at their coffee and pointing out oddly shaped clouds. Virgil is practically covered in snowflakes by the time they have to leave, the wind picking up too much to stay, and Logan is no better. Still, he thinks it was worth it, even when he gets a cold and has to spend the weekend curled up in blankets, sneezing and coughing as he works on his essay for his cosmology class. Virgil gets a cold, too, and they end up on the phone together as they work, Virgil blasting music on his end and Logan parroting his roommate’s consistent reminders to take medicine, and drink some water!

Emile seems to think it’s cute, for some reason, and they tell Logan to say hi to Virgil for them, a smile playing on their lips that he’s too sick to interpret.

–

Logan has a crush on a boy in their shared statistics class by March, the one who sits three rows in front of him and two seats to the right, who has green hair and a cheerful grin. Virgil listens patiently about it whenever Logan brings it up, and when they have to pair up for a final project, he pushes him towards his crush, joining Remus instead.

He finds out his crush already has a romantic partner in a strictly monogamous relationship when they’re nearly done with the project, and Virgil shows up to Logan’s dorm room with ice cream and his laptop that night, pulling aside Emile as he comes in and whispering something to him. Emile leaves shortly after, and the two of them are alone.

“What did you tell Emile?” Logan asks later, when they’re sitting on his bed and watching trashy teenage romcoms, because, according to Virgil, “This way, you won’t associate any good movies with this.”

“Well, Patton invited him for a ‘sleepover,’” Virgil says, eating directly from the carton of chocolate ice cream, gaze shifting from the screen to Logan. “Did the moment he saw your text on the groupchat.”

Logan had texted that his crush has a partner when Roman had begun teasing him about it on said chat. Looking back, it may not have been the best of decisions, but all he wants to do right now is curl into the comforter and watch bad movies, while simultaneously eating unholy amounts of ice cream.

“It’s not a big deal,” he protests, pulling the blankets closer around him.

“Listen, L, you’re sad ‘cause the boy you like… well, you know. Anyways, you being sad is a big deal, at least to us.” Virgil isn’t wearing his normal clothes, only a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt (Logan knows he ran over in his nightwear, which makes him feel worse), so he can see the ink covering his hands, smudged in places.

“Why do you draw on yourself so much?” He leans over to look at the patterns of spirals winding their way up Virgil’s arms, tracing them with one finger. “That much ink can’t be good for your skin, pretty as it is, Vee.”

Virgil bats his hand away, blushing behind his curtains of dark hair, and Logan laughs. “It’s just a nervous habit, okay?” he exclaims, and Logan pokes his cheek, cooing.

“Aw, lookit you,” he smiles, and even though Logan’s heart hurts from what happened with his crush, he doesn’t think he would trade anything for his friendship with Virgil Foley. “So cute.”

“I’m not cute,” Virgil grumbles, pressing play on the computer. “Watch the shitty movie and shush, nerd.”

He gets over the boy from statistics eventually, and gets an A on the project, which Roman insists they celebrate with breakfast at Logan’s favorite diner on campus. (Logan’s pretty sure Roman just feels guilty about teasing him about it, but he goes anyways, pulling his friend aside later to tell him it’s fine.)

–

They return from summer vacation changed. Janus, Patton, and Roman are dating now, for one thing, and it’s disgustingly sappy. Emile comes out as asexual and aromantic a few days after they get back, and Logan helps them hang flags in their dorm room when they arrive a week later. Remy has switched majors, from biology to culinary classes, and Remus tells them excitedly that he’s managed to start a rather popular horror comic online. (Logan reads it, and learns Remus is quite adept at art, writing, and scaring the crap out of him. He never looks at door knobs the same way again.) Virgil, meanwhile, has started wearing far less baggy clothes and more makeup – in other words, people around campus start realizing that Virgil is actually hot, and not just a relatively cute bundle of sweatshirts.

Logan kind of feels weird about it. He knows how aesthetically pleasing Virgil is, of course – they’ve spent enough time together for him to have figured that out – but… well, Logan had realized while he was away how much he’d missed Virgil, even more so than his other friends. He tells himself it is because of how close they are, and ignores the ugly anger in his chest when people flirt with Virgil, or how his heart pounds and face flushes when they curl up to watch movies these days.

As for him, well, he’s dyed his hair a dark blue, a color so dark it’s almost black. Roman marvels over it, asking how he managed to not damage his hair in the process, and Logan doesn’t feel like telling him that he had meant to do a brighter shade, but hadn’t realized how hard it would be to get proper color without bleaching his normal dark hair. He does end up telling Virgil later, though, when Remy and Patton drag them and the rest of their friends to a party.

For the record, Logan tended to avoid such events. He didn’t see the point, firstly – he’d never been a fan of crowds, especially not ones where everyone was drunk off their asses, and he generally had too much work to do to bother with parties. Secondly, he simply didn’t care enough to look nice for such a thing, or to go at all. Logan would much rather spend time with his friends if he had to be up in the middle of the night, whether haunting the 24/7 diner a few miles off campus or playing stupid games in the woods or making fun of Disney movies while throwing popcorn at the screen and shushing each other so they didn’t get noise complaints.

But then there were Patton and Remy, social creatures who liked seeing other people and didn’t mind getting wasted to do so. Roman and Janus typically followed Patton wherever he went, so they were a given, and Remus had developed a raging crush on Remy by then, so he’d probably have tagged along even if Remy hadn’t grabbed his hand and said “You’ll come, right, Ree?” with a grin.

Well, Remus was lost to them after that, and that left Emile, Logan, and Virgil alone.

Which would have been fine! Except then Virgil had got dragged in by Patton (a difficulty of being his roommate, according to Logan’s best friend, was that Patton was very, very persuasive when he wanted to be) and Virgil had begged Logan to come for “Introvert solidarity, L! Introvert solidarity!”

Then Emile had sighed, said something about being the only responsible one, and appointed themself designated driver. So Logan didn’t even have that excuse to pull himself and Virgil out of it early.

He finds himself on a couch in someone’s house, sitting besides Virgil. Janus tells him that it is owned by someone who goes to their college but lives nearby, a summer home belonging to their parents or something. Janus says ze aren’t sure who the actual host is, and ze run off to go find Roman or Patton before Logan can ask why all of them are attending a party hosted by someone they don’t know.

Virgil has obviously already had something to drink, or he’s insanely sleep-deprived, as he has started playing with Logan’s hair. Logan’s willing to bet on the former (although knowing Virgil, he can’t be sure – he has an awful sleep schedule) especially since he’s never known the other to be so touchy, even when tired.

“How’d you get it like this?” Virgil asks, running his fingers through Logan’s curls. He’s perched on top of the couch, and though he would normally be concerned that Virgil might fall, Logan is just glad he doesn’t have to bend over so his friend can examine his hair.

He tells Virgil, and can’t help but smile as he laughs, perhaps a little more than the story warrants. They sit there in peace for a few minutes, Virgil humming along with any song he recognizes and Logan scanning the room for any of their friends.

“Your hair is so pretty,” Virgil eventually says, and Logan is surprised he can hear him at all over the noise of the music and other people. He slides down from the couch to sit beside him, reaching up to poke Logan’s cheek. “You’re pretty. You know that, right? You’re real, real pretty.”

“Aw,” Logan grins, hoping the dim lights and Virgil’s addled brain will hide his red cheeks. “What is it you say? Oh, right; you think I’m warm.”

“No, dummy, I think you’re hot,” Virgil sighs. “Get it right.”

“Why, thank you.”

“‘Course. You’re my best friend, Logan Sanders.”

“Same,” he replies, dodging Virgil’s attempt to flick him as he scans the room. “Have you seen Remy or Remus around recently?”

“Oh, they’ve been making out in that closet over there,” Virgil says offhandedly, pointing, and Logan nearly chokes. “You didn’t know? They’re so obvious, Remy’s been whining about it to me for weeks. ‘Oh, Virgil, I’m doomed to be alone forever!’ ‘Oh, Virgil, Remus is so hot, and I’m going to whine about it to you for hours!’ ‘Oh, Virgil, I have a crush on a trash rat man and I won’t stop talking about it ever!’”

“Did Remy actually call Remus a ‘trash rat man’?” he snickers, turning to look at Virgil, who is wringing his hands in mock despair as he imitates Remy.

“No,” Virgil pouts. “Wish he had. Remus would love that.”

“He would,” Logan agrees, rolling his eyes fondly. “Hey, do you want to leave?”

“Why, Logan Perfect-Hair Sanders, are you asking me to ditch a party with you?” he laughs.

“That isn’t my middle name and you know it.” Logan shoots off a text to Emile, standing and turning to grab Virgil’s hand, pulling him upright. “But sure. Will you, Virgil Emo-Nightmare Foley, ditch this absurd party with me?”

“Logan, I thought you’d never ask,” Virgil smirks. “Let’s bounce!”

They get lucky – Logan hasn’t had anything to drink, and due to how large their group is, Virgil had had to drive over Patton, Janus, Roman, and himself earlier. Virgil hands him the keys to the car, and Logan drives them to the nearby McDonalds, where they order fries and milkshakes. “Let’s go somewhere high,” Virgil says when they return to the car, grinning, and Logan obliges, driving them to his favorite stargazing spot near campus, partway up a mountain in a parking lot for an old playground.

Soon, he finds himself sitting on the hood of Virgil’s car, dipping his fries in a chocolate shake as the two of them stare up at the stars and the moon, pointing out constellations. “Look,” giggles Virgil, his head on Logan’s shoulder as he traces lines between stars. “It’s the glasses one!”

“There is no ‘glasses’ constellation, Virgil,” he points out, but the path his friend is etching into the sky does look rather like a pair of glasses.

“Well, there is now,” replies the other. “It’s your constellation! You deserve one, y’know, ‘cause you’re pretty, and smart, and nice, and funny, and you’re just the best, Lo, okay?”

“How much did you have to drink, exactly?” Logan asks, raising an eyebrow, and his friend punches him in the arm, lightly. “Ow!”

“I’m telling the truth,” Virgil rolls his eyes, pulling the blankets they’d retrieved from the trunk closer around the two of them. “You deserve a constellation. You deserve the universe.”

“Well, now we have to find you a constellation, too,” he muses, ignoring the heat in his cheeks (he seems to be blushing quite a lot lately, talking to Virgil) as he searches the sky. It takes a few minutes, and Virgil is half-asleep on his shoulder by the time he makes his choice, but finally Logan says “I found it.”

“Well, lemme see,” Virgil mumbles, opening his eyes.

He traces lines between a series of stars. “It’s a cloud,” he explains, “and a lightning bolt. Because you’re a thunderstorm, V.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?” He’s biting his lip, suddenly subdued, and Logan feels a surge of guilt, because no one should ever make Virgil look like that, anxious and hurt and scared all at once.

“No,” he answers, fiercely enough that Virgil jumps slightly. “You’re wild, and chaotic, and occasionally a bit destructive, but you also make people feel alive. You bring rain to help things live, you bring the sound of a storm and the beauty of lightning, you simultaneously wake me up and help me sleep. You are beautiful, and inspiring, and so amazingly you, and the best friend I could ever ask for.”

“...And I thought I was the English major,” Virgil says quietly, and his face is bright red. “You have no right to be better at words than me, Sanders.”

“Well, Foley, I’m the astrophysics major, and you’re the one who started making constellations, so turnabout’s fair play,” Logan replies, and Virgil lets out a laugh at that.

Later, when the fries and milkshakes are both gone, they get back into the car and drive back to their dorms. For Logan’s birthday that year, a month or so later, Virgil presents him with a painting of the glasses constellation. He’d commissioned Remus, he explains, staring at his feet, and Logan tells him he loves it. For Virgil’s birthday, he gets a similar art piece from Roman, of the stars making a storm, and Virgil pulls him into a tight hug.

For now, though, the two of them simply sit and gaze into space.

–

Logan goes on a few dates with someone he meets at the coffee shop, named Andy. They become boyfriends. Virgil teases him about it whenever he brings it up, and eventually he stops talking about his partner to his best friend. The two of them start to pull apart, their friendship strained.

When Logan and Andy separate, Virgil is dating a girl he’s only met a few times, who shares Virgil’s English classes and wears colorful barrettes to hold back her curls.

He hadn’t even known Virgil liked her.

–

College passes by quickly. They graduate, and Logan tumbles into a job at a rather prestigious observatory. He lives in a small apartment in the city nearby, buys coffee from the Starbucks across the street every morning, settles into a routine.

Gradually, they all start to fall out of touch. It sucks, but things have been off between Virgil and him ever since Logan had dated Andy Michaels, and at the moment Logan sees his ex-boyfriend more than his ex-best friend. Their relationship had ended amicably, but still – he misses Virgil Foley, more than he’d ever like to admit.

A year or so later, Logan receives the invitation to Remy and Remus’ wedding.

It is in the fall, and Logan isn’t surprised in the least that they plan to have it in a forest, if only because he knows that the odds of Remus wanting the guests to jump into leap piles with him are absurdly high. At least they’re at an actual wedding site, so they can be inside if needed – Logan half expected, when he found out they’d gotten engaged, for them to drag a bunch of guests to a Starbucks for the event.

What does surprise Logan is the fact that Remus has apparently sent it early, because Logan is going to be one of the wedding party attendants.

He calls Remus and Remy that night, certain they’ve mixed up things, but Remy simply laughs. “Logan, you’re still one of our best friends,” he says. “Come on, please?”

“Besides,” Remus adds, “Virge will be one too, and Patton and Roman and Jan and Emile! You can’t break up the team!”

He ends up agreeing, and no matter how much Remy teases him about it later, it was not just to see Virgil again.

The wedding rolls around. Logan has managed to avoid speaking to Virgil for more than a friendly greeting and a bit of small talk through all the preparations the two of them had had to attend, but the they both arrive early on the day of, and Logan doesn’t know anybody else, and, well, he does miss Virgil.

“Hey,” he says. Virgil is nearly as tall as him in the heels he’s wearing (Logan had managed to opt out of them, convincing Remus to let him wear flats with his dress), and his green dress offsets his stormy eyes perfectly. Logan doesn’t think he looks nearly as good in the color, but he’d decided not to argue with Remy’s puppy-dog eyes. Besides, he much prefers the dress to the suits Emile and Patton had opted for.

“Hi, Logan,” Virgil replies. The tension in the air is palpable, and Logan hates it. “How’ve you been lately?”

“I’m good,” he answers.

“Oh, good,” nods Virgil. He’s gnawing at his lip again, and Logan can see the split in it even through the lipstick. “Me too.”

“I miss you,” Logan says suddenly, because he does. “You were my best friend, and I hate not being close, because you are one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“...I miss you too.” He smooths his dress, looking out the window at the trees, and then laughs. “I’m surprised they didn’t have their wedding in a Starbucks, honestly.”

Logan can’t help but chuckle at that, especially when he spots Remy breezing past them, a coffee cup in hand and makeup only half-done, frantically trying to catch his little brothers and sister, whom he and Remus had appointed flower children. “I thought the same thing,” he admits.

It’s easy for the two of them to talk, after that, sharing jokes and telling stories and talking about their new lives. Logan feels oddly happy when he learns Virgil is single, and when he mentions how he’s looking for a roommate and Virgil remarks that he is too, it feels as natural as breathing to ask where he’s currently living. Finding out they live in the same city makes Logan feel strangely elated.

“Help!” Remus exclaims, skidding to a stop in front of them, collapsing into Virgil’s arms and only barely being caught. “I’ve lost my husband-to-be!”

“Alright, please calm down,” Logan says, exchanging exasperated looks with Virgil, who pulls Remus back to his feet. “Have you actually lost Remy, or are you just being overly dramatic?”

“He has been stolen from me,” Remus whines. “We were kissing, and then he was dragged away by my evil brother!”

“By any chance, was he dragged away to prepare for your wedding? The event we’re attending, so you two can get married? The one that most guests are expected to arrive for in fifteen minutes?” Virgil crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed.

Remus’ eyes widen. “Fifteen minutes?” he asks, checking Logan’s watch, and groans. “Oh, drumsticks. Drumsticks torn right off a chicken. Bloody chicken legs everywhere.”

He darts off, and Logan and Virgil sigh simultaneously.

“We should go help, shouldn’t we?” Virgil asks, and Logan nods reluctantly. “Well, it was great to talk to you.”

“It was pleasant to speak with you, as well,” he agrees.

As he turns to go find Patton, Virgil grabs his arm. “Hey, L, save me a dance, okay?”

They do indeed dance together that night, after they watch Remy and Remus get married among the colorful leaves, and talk, and laugh, and by the end of the wedding they are good friends again.

Virgil and Logan move in together by the end of November.

–

They become surprisingly domestic, the two of them, moving into their large apartment that is close to both Logan’s job at the observatory and Virgil’s work at a publishing company. He’s not surprised Virgil has become an editor (he was always the best at it, when they exchanged essays to review), but he is rather impressed when he notes some of the books in Virgil’s room have his full name on the cover. “I write poetry, mostly,” he explains when Logan asks. “It’s… I used to use it like therapy, I guess, and I got some of it published. I’m not famous or anything.”

“That’s amazing,” Logan says sincerely.

The poetry becomes important, later, but then, it is simply something for Logan to admire, another flash of beautiful lightning in Virgil’s storm.

Saturdays become movie nights, and they order junk food and make popcorn and watch documentaries or horror movies or cartoons together. Occasionally, some of their friends will join them, and every so often, all eight of them cram into Logan and Virgil’s living room. Despite his love for the others, however, Logan’s favorite nights are usually the ones when the two of them are alone, when they curl up together on the couch and make fun of trashy films or contribute their own knowledge to documentaries or sing along quietly to Disney. It is peaceful and lovely and utterly perfect.

Logan doesn’t mean to fall in love with Virgil. It sneaks up on him, mornings of coffee for him and tea for Virgil and memes shared over breakfast, afternoons texting each other with reminders to get groceries and news from the office, nights of cooking together and dancing to the radio.

One day, when both of them have work off, Virgil pulls him out of bed, waits impatiently while Logan gets dressed, and drags him outside into a storm. They walk through the park together, enjoying the rain on their skin, both of them jumping into puddles and belting the title number of Singing in the Rain and getting utterly soaked.

They return home for cocoa, each taking a warm shower and then sitting together on the couch to watch old movies with small white krakens bobbing in their cups. It is then, with Virgil curled up against him, wet hair soaking Logan’s neck and the smell of hot chocolate in the air, that Logan realizes he loves a thunderstorm in human form.

His best friend.

Oh, god, Logan is in love with his best friend. And also his roommate. And also his favorite person in the whole of the universe.

Logan tries to get over his crush (and there’s no other word for it, as juvenile as it sounds). He really does. But it’s so hard, now that he knows it exists, especially when he has to see Virgil every single day. And he can’t just cut himself off, or leave their apartment, because that might ruin their friendship, and that’s the whole reason he’s trying to escape his feelings, because he loves being Virgil’s friend more than anything.

So he exists in this inbetween state, thrashing in the eyewall of a storm, so close to safety and danger simultaneously, trapped in chaos and uncertainty.

Logan isn’t quite sure whether he really wants to return to the eye, blissful quiet and the peace of oblivion, or if he can at all. But he thinks entering the storm itself, the danger of telling Virgil how he feels, the potential for a life with him, is equally impossible.

Eventually he decides that it is best to just ignore his rebellious feelings. It works, sort of – Virgil doesn’t seem to notice anything different, and Logan gets to keep his best friend. Still, every moment together is tinged with a sort of bittersweet sadness, the dancing in the kitchen and cuddling on the couch and meals together a harsh reminder that they are just friends.

He’s not sure exactly how his other friends figure it out, but they do, judging from how Remy and Janus tell him exasperatedly that he really ought to say something to Virgil, how Patton and Roman tell him how cute they would be together, how Remus does his best to shove Logan towards Virgil at any opportunity, how Emile tells him pointedly that repressing his feelings isn’t exactly healthy. Logan does decide that he’ll confess… eventually.

The problem with eventually, however, is how ambiguous it is. The others have realized as much, evidently, but they don’t force Logan to say something, or tell Virgil themselves, and he appreciates that.

It is a Saturday when eventually finally comes, a peaceful movie night interrupted by a phone call with Roman’s name flashing on the screen. He holds up a finger over his lips as he accepts the call, grimacing apologetically to Virgil as he steps into his own room. “What do you want?” he asks exasperatedly when he picks it up, and winces as the other line fills with noise.

“Logan, have you read Virgil’s latest book?” Roman practically screams, and in the background Logan can hear Patton squealing with excitement as Janus shushes them both.

He frowns, closing the door to his bedroom. “I wasn’t aware he’d been working on one.” Normally, Logan knows whenever Virgil is working on another collection of his poetry – he’s often the first person Virgil hands it to for editing.

“Get on your computer this instant, Pocket Protector,” says Roman, and Logan can hear his grin.

A quick search confirms it; a new book of poetry, just released by Virgil Foley. The revelation is almost painful (does Virgil not trust him anymore? Not like him?) until Janus’ voice comes over the line, hir voice sarcastic and concerned altogether.

“Way to go, love, he’s definitely not overthinking this,” ze sigh. “Logan, listen to me. I need you to go look at some of the reviews for the book, okay? Actually, no, if you can find a sample online, go read that.”

He’s operating in a haze, a robot in human flesh, and what do robots do but obey orders?

Logan barely understands what he’s reading at first, lines of poetry in the sample flashing past him. He checks the reviews, words of praise and admiration flowing through his mind, and it takes a second before he understands any of it.

Clicking back to the online sample, he starts to recognize the story being told. It is a tale of late nights and hot drinks in the morning, of pining and fear of destroying a friendship older than love.

It is Logan’s story, told through another’s words, a voice speaking of a scholar of the stars, of glasses and storms, of hugs and hand-holding and a cute barista, a boy in psych class, a friendship repaired at another’s wedding, of admiration and hope and love. A love for someone seen not as a storm, but as stars, as the universe in human flesh.

Virgil is in love.

Virgil is in love with Logan.

“I’ll call you back,” he hears himself say, and drops his phone on his bed in his haste to get back to the living room.

“Logan?” Virgil’s voice pierce the haze of his thoughts, his eyes

(a storm, wild beauty)

shining with concern, and he sits up from where he’s lying on the couch. “You okay? What happened?”

There are many things he wants to say, questions and explanations and promises, but in the end, all he says is “Can I kiss you?”

“What?” He doesn’t expect Virgil to look quite so flustered, but then again, Logan did just storm into the room, looking desperate and probably a tad deranged, and ask to kiss his best friend.

“Roman told me about the new book,” Logan says first, and Virgil’s eyes widen even further, and he can sense the incoming apology, but he isn’t done, not yet. He begins to crack his knuckles, a habit he’d thought he’d finally lost, full to the brim with nervous energy. “I’ve read some of it, and as far as I can tell, you are romantically attracted to me. Which is good, because I also harbor such feelings for you, and have for about a year now. So. Can I kiss you?”

“Isn’t it ‘May I kiss you’?” Virgil grins, playing off his feelings with humor, as always. Logan opens his mouth to apologize as his world comes crashing down, because oh, he’s messed up, oh no, but then his best friend’s expression softens, and he whispers “Of course, Logan Sanders.”

“Thank you, Virgil Foley,” he says, and abandons the eyewall for the storm.

They don’t watch any more movies that night. The two of them kiss, and talk, and kiss some more, and Virgil grabs his author’s edition of the new book from his room, and they read it together on the couch.

The next morning, they sit with their coffee and tea and talk some more, about labels and boundaries and dreams. Their friends come over for movies the next Saturday, and Virgil and Logan hold hands as they tell them they are dating.

(Roman choking on the popcorn in his excitement almost makes up for the money Logan spots being exchanged between Emile, Remus, and Patton.)

Eventually, Virgil’s latest book will gain fame, and they will end up with quite a bit of money between the two of them, especially after Logan gets a promotion. Eventually, they will move to a larger house, one a bit outside the city, one where they will have two cats and a dog and a son named Thomas. Eventually, they will get married in the spring, and when it starts to rain as they say their vows, the two of them just laugh.

But that is eventually. In the now, Logan Sanders is in love. In the now, Virgil Foley is in love.

They are glasses and hoodies, poetry written and spoken, dancing in the kitchen and cuddles on the couch.

They are thunderstorms, and they are stars.

482 notes · View notes

rosy-cheekx · 4 years ago

Note

Or, if you're more in the mood for something fluffier, “It’s too cold for you to come out here without a jacket on” from the protective sentence starters!

Combined this prompt with your “ for the holiday fluff prompts, how about any combination of one or more of these: ❄️ ☃️ ☕️ 🥘 🧩 ~ “ and went with flurries + holiday coffee date. hope you don’t mind it being a little derivative!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28370325

It had been a few years since there had been a white Christmas. Snow in London didn’t last long anyway; it would be snowplowed off the streets and turn gray and slushy or melt under the trampling boots of passerby on their way to work or school. This meant that even when it did snow, no one held out much hope for it to last longer than a day, two at most.

All this to say that Jon didn’t think much of the snow when he saw the flurries drifting outside his bedroom window. It had clearly just started snowing– didn’t even seem like it was sticking. He really didn’t think he’d need a coat. His bus route took him less than a block away from the institute and he resented the way his puffy winter coat made him feel: bulky and heavy, restricted at his joints. His thick white woolen sweater, made with oversized yarn and thrown over his collared shirt, would work fine. He thought he looked rather fit like this, hair half-knotted and curling over his shoulders. Tim would give him shit for having an “academia” aesthetic but, he “worked in academics, Tim. Every aesthetic I have is an academia aesthetic.”

Jon was, as usual, the first person to arrive at the archives. Diligently, he began his workday ritual, cranking up the thermostat and pulling the day calendar on his office wall to reveal the 23 December and chuckling to himself at today’s cat: all grey and massive, green eyes staring at the observer innocently. Sasha was next, blustering in her red peacoat, calling a greeting, and shaking it off before hanging it on the coat hook in the bullpen. Then came Martin and Tim, who had begun carpooling after realizing they lived less than two blocks away from each other. Greetings from the pair, “Happy Early Christmas”es. Now, the quiet, empty archives hummed with life and warmth. Jon, now seated his desk in his small office, could hear the chatter taking place in the main office space, the electric kettle humming in the breakroom, the Christmas music being argued over from the small speakers. All felt right. The Archivist smiled to himself and settled into work.

“What the hell? Tim!”

“That wasn’t me, Sash! I’m right here!”

“Calm down, you two. It was just the lights.”

The commotion outside his office confirmed to Jon that he wasn’t the only one whose office lights had suddenly blinked once and cut out. For just a moment he was reminded of Julia Montauk’s story about Mr. Pitch, but shook his head. They were fine. He stood and made his way to the breakroom, eyeing the also dark room, now lit by three phone torches. Being the underground section of the Institute meant they didn’t have much by way of windows, save for the single squat one high up in the breakroom, and Jon could see from here something was blocking the light that usually streamed through.

“I think it’s the whole Institute,” Jon offered unhelpfully. “Can one of you ring Rosie and check?” He turned and wandered absently into the breakroom to investigate the window. It was covered with snow. Frowning, Jon grabbed a chair and dragged it beneath the pane, climbing and pushing on the window.

“I think you need to unlatch it.”

“Jesus Christ, Martin!” Jon swayed and recovered his balance. How could he not hear such a large man come up behind him? He did try the latch though and pushed again. Once, twice, th-

“Fuck! Cold, cold, cold!” The snow that had piled up against the window had shifted and fallen through the gap Jon had so helpfully created; his face, glasses, and sweater generously dusted with cold and white. He sputtered and brushed it off himself, feeling dot of cold seep into his skin. The pane had been cleared though, and Jon could see, as he shoved the window closed again, blustering snow sweeping through the alleyway the window looked out on to. Jon turned back, seeing Martin’s face red with the effort of suppressing a laugh. “It’s snowing. Hard.”

“Yeah,” his voice wavered, lips parting in a warm smile. “I-I guessed that.” Even so, Martin offered Jon a hand and he took it, stepping off the now-wet chair with little grace. “Let’s see if there’s word from Rosie. Sasha was calling her when I came in.” Jon nodded wordlessly, holding Martin’s a little too long (it was so warm! And he was so cold) before letting go and leading Martin into the bullpen.

Sasha was lounging in her office chair, a finger curled in her thick hair, with her legs on her desk and her free hand holding her mobile to her ear. She was nodding, brow furrowed, and kicking Tim idly, who was perched on her desk, feet perched on the handles of one of her desk drawers and shining his torchlight in her eyes while she scowled at him. “Alright, brilliant Rosie. Tell Elias we send our warmest, fondest regards. Especially Tim. Oh—What’s that, Tim?” She eyed her perched friend mischievously; his eyes were wide, and he shook his head vigorously. “Oh. Tim says to tell Elias that he’s deeply in love with him and has been since the day he started.” She listened for a moment and nodded gravely. “Mmhmm. Thank you Rosie. I’ll let him know. Happy Christmas!”

“You little-”

Jon cleared his throat and Tim snapped his head up, eyes alight with mirth. “Bossman, I’m being slandered! You can’t expect me not to defend myself.” Jon chose to ignore his comment, though his expression was soft.

“Sasha, any word from Rosie?”

“Mhmm. Two things. Firstly, power’s out in the whole building. Apparently there’s a bit of a blizzard. Elias said we can have the day off. Secondly, Elias said he’s promoting Tim to his personal ass-isstant.” Tim howled and lunged at Sasha, who was giggling madly. Martin had lost it now too and was chuckling behind his hand at the scene of the taller woman scooting away on her rolling office chair from her dear friend. Even Jon scoffed, eyes following the pair affectionately. Jon didn’t notice he was shivering until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw the silhouette of Martin.

“Are you cold? I’m feeling it too. I think the heat’s off with the power.”

Jon shrugged noncommittally, turning his eyes back to the vague forms of Sasha and Tim, who had given up on their wrestling and were sharing the office chair, Tim lounging across Sasha’s lap and scrolling on his phone. At this, Sasha perked up, nudging Tim. “If it’s gonna get cold in here and we have the day off, we should go get coffee! There’s a cute new place across the street from the park. Steamed Beans or something.”

“Beaned Steams,” Tim mumbled under his breath, extricating himself from Sasha’s lap and getting to his feet, smoothing back his hair before refluffing it expertly. “I’m game. But Sasha’s buying my drink because she’s being a bully.”

Martin nodded, rocking on his toes behind Jon. “I’m in. But the snow is intense. Bundle up if you don’t want frostbite.”

Silence stretched in front of Jon. Of course he hadn’t thought to bring a coat today. There was no way his sweater could weather the snowstorm going on outside. He’d have to say no and wait it out, hope the snow dies down. Or he could just embrace it. The park wasn’t that far away…Four or five blocks. Not far enough to call a cab and too far to walk unprotected. Shit.

He’d been quiet for too long. The other three were poised, waiting for his response. “I don’t think you would let me say no if I tried,” he relented. Tim whooped and clapped Jon on the shoulder as he passed him, grabbing his coat and winding a scarf around his neck.

“That’s the spirit, Sims! C’mon, get your coats and we’ll leave before the weather gets worse.” Jon meandered into his office, the chill hanging in the air, and searched the room for any abandoned coats he may have left behind. He was a bit forgetful (and a bit of a packrat) but he was pretty sure he’d taken home his forgotten clothes before Halloween, when Tim was threatening to dress up as him for the archive party Sasha had hosted. The only thing he found was a pair of fingerless gloves, abandoned in his desk drawer. He slipped them on, flexing his hands against the knit fabric, and shrugged inwardly. It would have to do.

Jon closed the door to his office, locking it as he did so, before turning to see his assistants standing in the hallway, wincing at the lights they shone at him. “Jon? Where’s your coat?” Sasha’s voice was equal parts accusing and patient, like reminding a child to wash their hands.

“I-well, I didn’t bring one today,” Jon flushed like he had been caught in a lie. “The snow wasn’t that bad when I left the house. And I, I don’t like the way it feels to wear one.” He held up hands helplessly. “I have these.”

Martin crossed his arms over his vested chest and the tails of his scarf. “It’s too cold for you to go out there without a jacket on. Too windy. You’ll catch pneumonia and die or something.”

“You can’t catch pneumonia like that, Martin. It’s a wives’ tale.” “You get what I mean! You can’t just wear a sweater and button up and fingerless gloves of all things and call it winter gear.”

Tim was stroking his chin thoughtfully, head cocked. “Would the old married couple shut up? I think I have something.” He took off his coat and unzipped the inside, extricating a fleece lining from the waterproof shell. “Here,” he draped it over Jon’s shoulder when he refused to take it. “If you don’t wear it, Martin has to buy all our coffees. You wouldn’t want to do that to sweet ol’ Marto, would you?”

Jon shrugged on the coat, grateful for the dark to hide his scowl and blush.

Sasha let out a noise of realization. “Oh! I have something too.” She disappeared and returned in less than a minute, holding out a knitted cap of some kind. “I keep a spare for when it’s too cold down here.” The inside was soft, lined with silk or satin or something, and Jon could feel some sort of applique on the side. Realizing there was no way he was going to win this fight, he tugged on the hat, frowning at the way it squished down the knot of hair he had so carefully arranged to be just the right amount of messy and structured.

Martin was stepping forward now as well, stooping slightly to wind a scarf around Jon’s neck and gently tucking the ends into the neck of the fleece. “Uh, here.”

“I-hm,” Jon struggled for words, feeling warm from more than just the new apparel. “Thank you, all of you, I suppose. I’ll-ah, I’ll give them back to you after.”

“No rush!” Tim nudged Jon with his shoulder as he grabbed Sasha’s hand, pulling her through the hallway to the stairwell. “Come on, I need the most expensive drink they sell in my belly, pronto!”

As the Archival staff left the Institute, they waved goodbye and wished a Happy Christmas to Rosie, who was packing up her own desk. They pushed themselves through the rotating door, immediately bowing their heads against the blinding white snow and the buffeting wind.

“Shit,” Martin said, pocketing his glasses. “No point in having these out. The one day I don’t bother with contacts. Are we sure we shouldn’t cab?” Jon glanced at the road, somewhere between slush and ice.

“I don’t trust lorry drivers on a good day.” Martin hummed an agreement.

Sasha led the way, the four keeping tight together against the wind and cold, the whirling of the snow drowning out all conversation, save for Tim’s occasional directions via his smartphone. Jon removed his own wire-rimmed glasses eventually, tired of them fogging up and of the snow melting into blurred spots, obscuring his vision even more. Martin held out his hand and Jon passed them over for Martin to put in his pocket. There was no one else out on the streets, no cars, no people. Jon imagined as they walked that they were the only four left in London, cursed to wander alone forever. His theory was proven wrong, however, when eventually the warm orange lighting of the coffee shop beckoned, the name Bean Village painted on the window.

“I think Sash’s name was better,” Tim declares in a low voice as they stamp their feet against the welcome mat and shake off snow from their hair and clothes. Jon removes the knitted cap to see the faux leather flower applique and the embroidered “S” he hadn’t been able to see in the dark, chuckling to himself and stuffing the mauve hat in his pocket. Their faces were all various toned shades of pink and the heavy heat of the air of the café, smelling strongly like coffee beans, vanilla, and cinnamon, made Jon’s once-numb nose and cheeks tingle as they were brought back to life.

Jon squinted at the chalk-written menu, moving to push up his glasses only to feel his hand falter when he found the nosepiece not there. “Oh-uh, Martin. Can I have my glasses?”

Martin frowned. “Ah, huh? Oh! Yes-yes, of course, sorry!” He fumbled for Jon’s glasses, drying the remaining melted snow on the hem of his shirt before handing them back.

The Magnus Institute’s archival staff were the only four customers in the store at present and made a point to order probably more than necessary, scones and muffins (blueberry for Martin and Sasha, cinnamon for Martin, a pumpkin muffin for Jon) in addition to the teas and coffees (chai lattes for Jon and Martin, a caramel latte for Sasha, and some sort of ridiculously sweet mocha for Tim), despite it being barely eleven in the morning. Jon saw Martin make a point to slip some extra money into the tip jar as well, feeling warmth bloom in his chest as he decided to do the same.

Honestly, this, squeezed into a booth, leaning into Martin’s side, with Tim and Sasha across from him, chatting, swapping stories, and sharing some institute-related memes Tim had drawn up on his phone, was the best Christmas gift Jon could have imagined.

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfic #season 1 archive gang #s1 polycule #kinda?#not officially but its the vibes that count #timsash #jmart #at the least #holiday fic

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vespertine-legacy · 4 years ago

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I know this game is theoretically an mmo/fighting game, but it’s too much fun playing space Barbies. I’ve started putting together compare-and-contrast shots of the toons of mine that have different versions of the same outfits to try and figure out who is the best-dressed (even though none of them will ever match up to certain of my mutuals’ toons *coughMerkaracough*) and show off some of my favorite outfits.

Fashion show under the cut!

The Impulsive Adventurer set is just too versatile. Pretty much everybody gets to wear it for a little while! Agents while they’re trying to Not Look Imperial, Smugglers just because it’s a good casual look, Bounty Hunters because forearms.

Everybody looks good in the Resilient Warden set, with or without the rebreather mask, and it looks good with almost any dye module.

The Alliance Emissary set (at least the chest piece, I don’t like the leg wraps too much, and I can take or leave the gloves and the belt depending on the toon) is another one that looks good on just about anyone and with just about any dye module. And the hood stays down so you don’t have to worry about going bald with it--and amazingly, the Togruta central lek tucks nicely into the hood on the back instead of clipping through it!

The Armored Diplomat/Armored Interrogator sets give me life, and I can’t really say why. Did I have to buy both of them, even though they’re basically the same just different colors and a slightly different pattern on the skirt and the gloves? Yes, absolutely. (oh, @sunsetofdoom if you’re looking for an in-game armor set for Sohnya, this set has little finger-caps on the gloves, FYI). Also! Notice how different Kestrel and Nustia’s outfits look in Republic vs Imperial lighting (they are wearing the same top and no dye module, so it should be the same color, but Imperial lighting is so much bluer)

The Bold Hellion set is a tasteful, nearly tits-out, bared midriff look that is completely impractical for all of these ladies, considering they get shot at a lot, but I love it anyway. (I would like to know why the pen in the breast pocket is bright pink on Coda and Vysh but not on Tulia and Moxie though? is that a tiny “I’m a medic don’t shoot”? It isn’t an artefact of the dye module for either of them, I don’t think--Coda’s dye is brown/black. Maybe it’s just a slightly glitchy armor set...)

The Force Apprentice set is fun because Shoulder Pads and little mini capelets and Fingerless Gloves! I adore the original color of it, but it also takes most dyes well too. The collar has some pretty bad clipping issues (RIP Kestrel’s lekku), but it is what it is.

The Lucien Draay set gives me life, and not just because of the Lite Bondage look (promise). Beware though, it does give BT4 female toons a massive ass. Like, the biggest-looking ass you’ve ever seen. Like, they’ve already got some junk in the trunk to begin with, but DAYM. I’m not a huge fan of the skirt it comes with, so I often swap it out for a variety of different pants.

I don’t know what I love about the Sith Cultist set exactly, but I love it. There is something about the original color though that trips out my eyes sometimes and makes it looks a little like an optical illusion at some angles, so, I guess be mindful of that?

TIDDIES. OUT. The Able Hunter set is a distraction technique for my Bounty Hunters, plain and simple.

The Distinguished Warrior set makes my teeny Warriors look like they’re playing dress-up in a Much Bigger Warrior’s armor and I love it. But the set dyes really well, and it looks like something that would, you know, actually protect them.

The Wayward Voyager set was my newest impulse buy, and it was mostly because I decided that Vysh wasn’t really that much of a tits-out kind of girl and needed a more modest look, and I absolutely love it, so I gave one to Moxie too.

#swtor fashion #i love my babies and i want them to look nice #especially since i spent the first several months that i played having no idea how the outfit designer worked #and just letting them run around looking like hobos

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hitsuackerman · 4 years ago

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What in the World? (Akaashi Keiji x Reader) pt.12

a/n: it begins >:)

Akaashi’s lineup: @alluring-akaashi @oikawalmart-hq @extrasugafree @bbykiyoomi @apricotjihyo @awings @simpformiya @sayakaaaaaa @colorseeingchick @demursv1ogs @chrisrue15 @beanst0ck @something-that-idk (i have no idea why i can’t tag some of you :( huhu )

links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 13

Time flew by so fast in this dimension. Now that you were well adjusted and loving the new life here, it had not dawned on you that 7 months had already passed. Things were moving smoothly and pleasantly.

“Here you go.” Akaashi handed you a snack bar. The two of you (well maybe three if Bokuto is included) were practically inseparable. The team had finally managed to pin the both of you down and confirm that you two were indeed dating. “Did you sleep well?”

Walking to school was still a thing both of you did. Except this time, fingers were intertwined and barely any distance between the both of you. The only time you two let go was when the school gates were near. Still, walking down the hallways, Akaashi made sure to always brush his fingers with yours.

“I did!” You pulled him in to kiss his cheek. The small smile he gave you still made your stomach butterflies flutter. “I did have a weird dream last night. You and Bokuto-san switched personalities. Seeing you do his ‘HEY HEY HEY’ was just so wrong on all levels.”

“Is there a quirk that can do that?”

At this point in time, you barely relied on your quirk. The feeling of accomplishing things without it’s aid was much more satisfying. Of course, Akaashi still reaped its healing benefits and took note of how his stamina had improved.

“High chances. If we can have a washing machine as a pro-hero, then there’s bound to be a quirk swapping quirk.”

“A washing machine?” He brushed his thumb on the corner of your lip to wipe off a crumb. “Even now, your world still surprises me.”

“It’s great if you hear it.” Leaning on his shoulder, you tightened your hold on his hand. “Living in it is a completely different story. It’s been, what, 7 months since I arrived here and I am more than content with not having to rely on my quirk.”

“What about your combat skills? Shouldn’t you still be sharpening them?”

“I wish I could.” That was true, though. “I’m pretty much useless at 30%. Even if I wanted to lift boulders or shit, I have to maintain at least 40%. The difference is small but the output is huge. I don’t get my quirk’s logic.”

“Well, it’s still early.” The gates were now in sight but he refused to let go of your hand. “I’m pretty sure you can work on your quirk. The others won’t arrive within 30 minutes.”

“It’s been 5 months and you’re still curious to see how I fight?” You giggled.

“Yes.” He nodded. “If my girlfriend trained to be a hero, I’d love to see how you move.”

“Well, you made that sound sexy~” You nudged his elbow. “Think we can have a little action before we head to the gym?”

“It’s 6:30am, (y/n). It’s too early for that.” He teased. Yet his steps were a little faster than before. “But, I guess I can’t oppose the idea.”

The next thing you knew, your back hit the wall as Akaashi hungrily kissed you. With your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers found themselves coming through his hair. Pinning you even more, Akaashi’s hand undid your ribbon and unbuttoned the first two. Letting go of your lips, he trailed kisses from your cheek down to the crook of your neck.

As he was softly sucking on your skin, you loosened his tie and undid the two buttons as well. Tugging his hair, you were face to face with him again. Lust filled eyes staring back into yours. Leaning in, you gently kissed his lips before returning the favor. Activating your quirk, Akaashi felt his feet leave the ground. Knowing what you were about to do, he could feel you turning the both of you around.

Skillfully placing the both of you on the floor, Akaashi leaned on the wall as his hands began to roam higher and higher up your skirt. Having you straddle him this early in the morning was rather pleasant in all aspects. Tilting his head a bit, he gave you much easier access and felt you sucking on his skin a little harsher this time.

“Make sure it’s hidden under the collar.” He managed to whisper. Hickeys were a common thing to have both your bodies. He smirked at how your only response was a nod.

Caressing your cheek, he admired the way your face glowed even more. Pulling you in softly for another kiss, he felt his stomach fluttering when you smiled.

“We should probably head to the lockers now.”

“Fine.”

“We can continue this in my room later.” He whispered before kissing you deeply.

“Counting the hours~”

Moments later, you were now pumping air into some volleyballs. Morning practice for today would only take an hour so there was plenty of time to freshen up before the homeroom. Now that the gym was packed with your boys, you rolled out the volleyball cart and positioned it beside the net.

Everyone was now used to having you as a ball girl. In fact, some of them even tried to challenge you by purposely hitting the ball too hard or too low. With your hero training, it was nothing but a walk in the park. You did notice, however, that your body began to sweat a bit more. The after effects of not using your quirk for a long time was showing.

Nothing bad happens, though. Just panting and sweating.

“Aghkaashe!” Bokuto yelled. “Can you and (y/n)-chan help with my math later?”

“I don’t mind. What about you, (y/n)?”

“Sure thing~” You approached your two favorite boys. “Bokuto-senpai, how well did you do on your previous quiz?”

The captain’s golden eyes sparkled.

“HAHAHA! Thanks to you both, I managed to get a 32/50! Whatdya think?!” He punched the air and grinned widely. When the both of you applauded he began to jump up and down while shouting his trademark.

“Calm down, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi tried to stop him from jumping up and down. His friend obeyed and gave a cheeky thumbs up.

“God, I love you both so much~” You giggled at their exchange.

“But you love Ahkaashi more, don’t you (y/n)-chan?” Bokuto added as he shouldered Akaashi. This time, his deadpan face was holding a soft smile.

“Of course!”

When Konoha’s alarm sounded, each of you began to clean up and prepare for the rest of the day. With how often you did it, it had now become second nature to you. Yukie and Kaori even admitted that you adapted much faster than they had anticipated. Once all of you were now freshened up, the gym was locked once more and each player looked forward for the after school practice.

“Exams are approaching.” Akaashi said as he let you step into the classroom first. “Have you prepared your notes?”

“I did. But, you do remember that the subjects you have here are way too easy for me, right?” Placing your bag on your desk, you took a seat and faced Akaashi. “Shall we study in your room or mine?”

“we can take turns.” Now that he was seated, he fished out one of his notebooks and placed it on his desk. Not that it was needed, it merely became one of his habits. Watching as you dragged your chair closer to him, he offered you a pen and flipped the notebook open.

“So, what do you want me to draw?” This had become one of your recent traditions. Before the start of homeroom, Akaashi noticed how you liked to doodle on his notebooks. Deciding that a special one was needed, he took the liberty of buying a blank journal for you to fill with whatever it is you saw fit.

“Hmm, I recall you saying that you designed your own hero costume.” He saw how your eyes lit up. “May i see what it looked like?”

Starting the sketch, you began to draw a figure and dressed it with your costume.

“So, my costume isn’t flashy unlike the others.” You explained. “A quirk like mine doesn’t really need a lot of support items so I went with mobility and comfort. I decided that simplicity was key. Just the normal jacket, shirt, pants, and boots. The only support item I had were my gloves.”

Sketching your gloves, Akaashi couldn’t help but adore just how focused you were. Tucking in a loose strand of hair, he felt the butterflies in his stomach churning once again as the corners of your mouth formed a smile and your cheeks turning a faint hue of pink.

“What do your gloves do?” They looked like standard fingerless gloves.

“The material was specifically designed to aid in manipulating my quirk. It concentrates the energy I release and wraps around my hand. Sorta like a human torch~” It was a bit difficult to explain how it worked knowing you didn’t listen to the man who gave you the item. As long as it aided you, it was fine.

“What were Todoroki-kun’s support items?”

“Shoto’s support items were mostly temperature regulators. Wristbands and a big one he wears like a backpack to help even him out.” You drew his support items rather well.

“Can you try to sketch Todorki-kun’s face?” Letting you draw your friends was something he wasn’t so comfortable with. Not for that reason of course. He merely assumed that it would be a sensitive topic knowing the circumstances of how you arrived in his world. When you giggled, he tilted his head.

“About time you asked~” Beginning to draw your childhood friend, you continued. “I honestly wouldn’t mind drawing my friends for you, ya know? There’s no way I can introduce you to them so sketching them would be the best alternative.”

“I’m sorry.” He held on to your free hand. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfy.”

“You never make me uncomfy. Keiji~”

It was a quick sketch of half and half but a good one. He squinted his eye when he took note of the scar. He had heard of Tokoyami and Mina, but this one merely showed a boy about his age with a nasty burn on his face.

“Shoto’s got one helluva back story.” Your thumb began to brush Akaashi’s knuckles. “That scar was given to him by his mum when he was around 5 or 6 years old. It’s sad but he grew to accept it and is now healing.”

“You were engaged before, right?”

“For a while, yeah.” You handed him back the pen and closed the sketchpad. The bell had now rung and right on time, the teacher entered the room. Just as she was relaying a message, you were rummaging in your bag for a notebook.

“Please introduce yourselves~” The teacher said.

“Bakugo Katsuki”

“Midoriya Izuku.”

- - - - -

a/n: sooo... what yall gonna do now? :’)

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi haikyuu #akaashi keiji #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x bnha

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emy-loves-you · 4 years ago

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Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 3

Welcome to the Chat, Virgil!

Virgil meets Logan and Patton, and learns that the three of them are more than just friends.

Morolo, endgame LAMP

Chapter 2 | Masterlist | Chapter 4

What d'ya say, storm cloud?

Virgil bit his lip, the question looping through his brain. What would he say to that? On one hand, he barely knew Roman. They only had two conversations, with Virgil having an anxiety attack halfway through one. How could Virgil trust him? On the other hand, having more people to talk to other than Janus and Remus… a part of Virgil, the part of him that wanted to cry at the thought of an injured animal, practically sang at the idea. If Patton and Logan were anything like Roman, Virgil knew that they would get along quite nicely. Worst-case scenario, I'll say something stupid and proceed to block their numbers forever.

V- (12:45 PM) As long as your friends are cool with it, I’m down.

R- (12:47 PM) Alrighty then. Just one moment, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance.

Virgil blushed at the nickname. Before he could even try and think of a response to that, Princey had already set up the group chat.

R- (12:48 PM) Hello my friends!

?- (12:48 PM) Hi Roro!

?- (12:48 PM) Salutations

V- (12:48 PM) Hey

?- (12:48 PM) Hi! You must Virgil! I’m Patton, he/him pronouns!

?- (12:49 PM) Good afternoon, Virgil. My name is Logan. I also use he/him pronouns.

V- (12:49 PM) Thanks, so I guess Roman’s already blabbed about me? You guys can call me V or Virge if you want, I’m not picky. He/him

L- (12:49 PM) Roman did not tell us much, beyond “He’s a creepy cookie with Pat’s humor and Lo’s smartness.” I also assume that you’re the one Roman assisted last night. I hope the exercises were beneficial.

V- (12:50 PM) They were, thanks

P- (12:50 PM) So, what do you like to do, Virgil?

Virgil bit his lip, glancing around his room. He really didn’t want to tell them about his music career. What if they recognized him and hated him because of his music. Or worse, what if they pretend that they’re friends with him so they can live off of his popularity? His eyes landed on sketch pads and suitcases. That could work.

V- (12:51 PM) I commission art. I also travel around with my friends.

P- (12:51 PM) Ooh, can we see some? Only if you're comfortable of course!

Virgil quickly flipped through his sketchbook. Most of his sketches were designs for The Dark Sides, so they were a no-go. Other drawings had some sort of gore or hellish imagery, and Virgil had a feeling that they wouldn’t like those drawings like Janus and Remus did. He eventually found a drawing that with no blood: it showed three men in dresses, each with their own style. The one on the left wore a black ball gown with yellow accents and yellow elbow-length gloves. The figure on the right had an emerald green mermaid dress with black accents and black fingerless gloves. The one in the center had a purple princess-style dress with black accents and no gloves. Virgil smiled as he sent the photo to the chat. Remus had explained that the only thing he missed from being a girl was the pretty dresses he wore. Janus and Virgil had responded by going to the mall and buying dresses for the three of them, saying that they didn’t need to be girls to wear dresses. Remus had been so happy he almost ripped the dress in his haste to put it on.

P- (12:54 PM) Ohmygosh that’s so pretty! Are these real dresses?

V- (12:54 PM) Yeah. My friend Remus (the one on the right) felt bad for wanting to wear a dress so me and Janus (the one on the left) went dress shopping with him.

R- (12:54 PM) Well, he shouldn’t feel bad. You three SLAY those dresses!

L- (12:55 PM) I also agree. While I don’t believe that I look good in a dress, you three successfully “pull it off.”

Virgil couldn’t help but blush at the compliments. Even though they bought the dresses for Remus’ sake, wearing more feminine clothing was an… invigorating experience. Virgil turned back to the conversation, attempting to change the topic of conversation.

V- (12:56 PM) Okay, I showed my stuff, now it’s your turn. What do you guys like to do?

P- (12:56 PM) I own a bakery/cafe! I just LOVE to bake sweets! Especially cookies! I also LOVE punny jokes!

L- (12:56 PM) I am currently working part-time at a local library. I am attempting to get a master's degree in astronomy and wish to work at the local planetarium. I enjoy reading and stargazing.

R- (12:57 PM) I’m currently an actor at the local theater, though I hope to soon reach my full potential on Broadway!

Virgil smiled at the descriptions. Three VERY different people, all with different dreams and ambitions. And now they’ve roped me into their merry band of misfits.

V- (12:58 PM) So, how did you guys meet each other?

P- (12:58 PM) Me and Lolo were neighbors before we got together. We met Roro in high school. I swear, I thought they hated each other for the longest time! Then I caught Lo and Ro making out junior year, so we sat and talked it out. Now we’re all happily living together!

Virgil blinked, rereading what Patton just typed. Got together? Are they…?

V- (12:59 PM) I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but… are you guys all dating each other?

L- (1:00 PM) Yes, we are. I assumed that Roman informed you of this.

P- (1:00 PM) Ro?

R- (1:04 PM) I apologize, Virgil. I wasn’t sure what your opinions were on polyamory. I hope you can forgive me.

Virgil snorted, imagining the four-minute delay was of Princey getting verbally beaten by Patton and Roman. He imagined Roman wearing a prince outfit (because he’s Princey) with his head in his hands. Patton would be standing over him, hands on his hips, and a disapproving scowl on his face. Logan would be standing next to Patton, arms crossed with an open book still in hand. He quickly turned back to the conversation, not wanting to make them worry.

V- (1:06 PM) It’s fine. I’ve got nothing against polyamory. I would be a hypocrite if I did,

L- (1:07 PM) Are you also in a polyamorous relationship?

V- (1:07 PM) I’ve never been in a relationship. But I WAS thinking about joining Janus and Remus’ relationship when they started dating since we all cared about each other and they offered. I thought about it for a while, but I eventually said no. I see them more like brothers, y’know? And they’re happy together, so it all worked out.

P- (1:08 PM) Good for you, Kiddo! I know it’s hard to tell people that you care about what you want, especially when you don’t know if they feel the same way. You made the right decision. Are you guys still friends?

V- (1:09 PM) Yeah, they’re my best friends. We do everything together

V- (1:09 PM) And “Kiddo”?

P- (1:10 PM) Sorry, you’re all my Kiddos, Kiddo!

L- (1:10 PM) Patton, there is the chance that Virgil is older than all of us.

P- (1:11 PM) Virgil, how old are you? We’re all 24!

Virgil sighed. Patton just gave away his age to someone he just met. I’m not dumb enough to do THAT. Oh, wait, yes I am.

V- (1:11 PM) 25

R- (1:12 PM) He’s just saying that so he’s older than us!

P- (1:12 PM) Ro! Virgil would NEVER lie for something so petty. Would you, Kiddo?

V- (1:13 PM) I mean, if I did you would never know so

R- (1:13 PM) SEE?!?

L- (1:14 PM) While this conversation has been truly invigorating to be a part of, I’m afraid it must end here. I have a shift at the library soon, Patton needs to go manage the lunch rush at the bakery, and Roman is SUPPOSED to clean the apartment while we’re gone. It was a pleasure meeting you, Virgil. I hope to continue this conversation at a later date.

P- (1:14 PM) HOLY SHMOKES YOU’RE RIGHT! I GOTTA GO! BYE KIDDOS!

V- (1:15 PM) Bye Lo, Pat, Princey. Nice talking to ya. See you guys later.

Virgil smiled, setting his phone on the bed as he went to grab his guitar. He was in the mood to play some music, and he needed some lyrics for their next song. He heard his phone go off and waited until he was sitting comfortably on the bed before reading it.

R- (1:17 PM) I knew you guys would get along. Welcome to the chat, Virgil.

V- (1:20 PM) :)

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Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!):

@bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess

#sanders sides fic #useless gays #LAMP fic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #men in dresses #texting fic

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clonecaptains · 5 years ago

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A Different Kind of Music - a Llewyn Davis x reader fic

rating: T - future M

a/n: this movie has become a comfort movie for me - and im emotionally attached to him so this was just a chance to write some of my emotions out. it’s self indulgent~

A Different Kind of Music

Your mouth drops open in disbelief. Emotion wells up in your heart, your chest feels tight and all the feelings have nowhere to go but in tears down your cheeks. Your hand comes to rest over your heart as if that would somehow heal the ache.

You’re at the Gaslight, and Llewyn Davis’s beautiful melancholy voice is tugging at your heartstrings. You knew his voice was lovely, that’s why you’ve come. To hear him sing, and to see him in person. Nothing could pull your attention from him singing. His mop of curls bounce as he sways slightly. His guitar rests on a thick thigh, and you blush. You’re even entranced by the veins on his neck – showing his passion as he sings.

He’s even more beautiful than the album cover suggests.

Yes, you have his album.

Inside Llewyn Davis.

It was a random find at a record store, there was a whole box of them untouched. You’d just begun to work at this little shop, and when the shipment came in you wondered by no one was buying it. You took one home and gave it a listen, and you’ve hardly listened to anything since.

So, when you heard he was going to sing at the Gaslight, you jumped at the chance.

Once his set was over, you anxiously got up from your seat to follow him. He walked up to the bar to speak to someone, then he went outside. You’re sure you looked like a little lost puppy following him up to the bar, only to be met with a greasy mustached man.

His eyes raking over you makes your skin crawl.

“When will he be back?” you ask, planting your feet a little. You won’t let this creep ruin seeing Llewyn.

“He went to see a friend out back,” he snickers. You don’t like his tone, and you don’t know what he means by ‘friend.’ “You can go on out there if you’re so eager.”

You brush past him in the direction of ‘out back.’

It’s a dimly lit alley, and you get the feeling you should be back here. You cling to the record in your hand, you almost forgot you had it with you.

A soft pained groan tells you that you aren’t alone in this alley. You look down at your feet to see that mop of curls, Llewyn is on the ground in a heap. You gasp.

“Mr. Davis? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” an obvious lie. He grunts and brushes off his pants as he stands. “Mr. Davis is my father,” he snorts out through his nose, he’s brushing off his jacket now. His fingers poke through holes in fingerless gloves.

“I just wanted to say, I love your music,” you blurt out.

“Thank you,” he seems to cast it aside. Then he looks up at you finally, and you can see his face in the dark alley. “Hi,” his voice is suddenly gentle and less cold; dark brows were knitted together but they relax when he sees your face.

You can see him looking you over, but it’s not like the man at the bar. You’re clinging tight to that record, his record. His expression softens even further when he sees how tight you’re holding the album. He seems shocked in fact.

He takes a step further into the light and you see his lip is split and there’s a bruise on his cheek.

“Are you alright?” you ask him again, knowing he isn’t.

His dark soulful eyes look down at his feet then back up to your face.

“Would you like to get some coffee?” he asks, his feet shuffle under him.

“I know the perfect place!” you nod and tug on his shirt sleeve.

“Llewyn,” he offers after you tell him your name, “but it seems you already know that.”

“I love this album,” suddenly you’re embarrassed now. It’s late and you’re sitting across from him in a little coffee shop. You just had hoped he’d sign it; you didn’t think this would be how your night would turn out.

“You’re the only one I think,” he seems sad taking a long drink of coffee. He sighs at the warmth.

“The Death of Queen Jane made me cry,” you laugh shaking your head. You munch on a little cookie, hoping he can’t see the tears well up in your eyes. His eyes haven’t left your face once.

“I’m glad you liked the record,” he nods, his eyes flicking away when you catch his gaze.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” you blurt out. You’re not sure why. Your question seems to catch him off guard, his eyes widen a little and he almost smiles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that how it sounded. I own a record store, and I thought maybe you’d like to come look around?”

“Sure,” he shrugs. You feel like a fool, why would a musician want to go to a record store? Or would they? What if it discourages him?

“You don’t-“ now you’re just nervous.

He laughs, his eyes crinkle in the corners and it’s the first time you’ve really seen him smile this big. “Let’s go,” he takes another sip of coffee. “Lead the way.”

There’s a chill in the air as the two of you walk towards your apartment. You explain to him that you’ve just moved to New York after your father died. He left you the record store and the apartment attached. No one else wanted it, but you couldn’t let the music die with your father.

“I have to get my key out of my place,” you tell him, and he quietly follows behind.

“Do you want me to sign that for ya?” he motions towards the record when you set it down on the kitchen table. There’s a teasing tone to his voice, but he’s sweet.

“Yes, actually,” you laugh. “Where are those keys?” you mumble to yourself while you look for them. Llewyn wanders around your apartment looking at all your things, and for a pen. “Got it!” you exclaim. He looks up from your living room to see you still in the kitchen. “We should do something about that bruise,” you tell him and open your freezer.

“You don’t have to-“ he tries to stop you. But he doesn’t argue when you gently press ice wrapped in a rag to his cheek. “Did someone pay you?” his eyes were closed but they open to look your way. You’re still holding the ice to his cheek.

“Pay me?”

“This is just the shit I need.”

“What?” you take a step back, letting him hold the ice to his face.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” he buries his face in his palm, wincing in pain when he touches his lip – and in guilt for upsetting you.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna get out of your hair,” he starts to walk past you, but you grab his arm to stop him. He seems surprised at your action, and the firmness of your hand tells him you mean it. With a sigh, he sits down on your couch and tells you his story. He doesn’t know why he’s telling you everything, and you don’t know why he decided to trust you with this information.

“So, what you’re saying is, you need somewhere to sleep tonight,” you smile at him.

“This is a nice couch,” he bounces on it a little, testing the weight.

“It doesn’t have to be the couch if you don’t want it,” you bite your lip. “You can sleep on my bed, I mean alone! Unless you want me to join-“

“The couch is fine,” Llewyn smiles again at how visibly flustered you become. Then he sees the slight disappointment in your eyes when he says no. “Someone told me it would be a favor to women everywhere if I never fucked again…” his voice trails off.

Shifting your weight, a little, you come to sit by him on the couch.

“I never do this, I mean I’ve never brought a guy home,” you look at your knee bouncing, then up to his face. He’s watching your every move. His soulful eyes under that big mop of curls are breaking your heart. “I don’t expect anything, I just meant the bed is more comfortable. I will sleep on the couch.”

“I can’t sleep in the bed, it’s yours. I’ll feel bad. Unless, you did join me,” he grins softly. He shifts in his seat, turning to face you. He reaches for you and cups your cheek in his hand. He holds your gaze for a moment, testing. Waiting to make sure you’re not going to pull away when he leans forward to capture your lips.

The gentle kiss breaks and you hop up from the couch. Now full of nervous energy. Awkwardly you both get ready for bed, unsure of the next move. Llewyn is quiet, he can sense you’re skittish. He simply undresses, leaving him only in boxer shorts and a white t-shirt.

Laying on the bed waiting for you to change, he sinks into the mattress with a sigh. He can’t even remember the last time he slept on a bed, especially one this nice.

Jittery and excited, you’ve changed from your clothes into your pajamas in the bathroom. You step into your room to find Llewyn fast asleep on your bed. A smile curves on your lips and your heart aches. From what he’s told you – you know this sweet soul hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in a long time.

So, you turn off the lights and slide under the covers with him. You curl into him like he’s a long-time lover. You smile to yourself, because in a way – he is. His music has been speaking to you for awhile now. This time you have the man the music comes from. Maybe tomorrow you will hear him sing, but right now in this moment hearing him snore softly beside you is music to your ears.

idk who to even tag??

@pascalispedro, @damndamer0n, @darksideofclarke, @tintinwrites

#llewyn davis #llewyn davis x reader #mine #my writing #im just kinda #experimenting???

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faecaptainofdreams · 4 years ago

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I do not own Marvel. Yes, Wade drew this with crayon. Marvel HC: www.deviantart.com/foxdragonlo… Peter HC: www.deviantart.com/foxdragonlo… Wade HC: www.deviantart.com/foxdragonlo… If you don't like this ship i don't care. Don't talk to me about it, find something you do enjoy. If you're into it, then thanks for stopping by! --------------------------------------------------------------------------- TW: strong language, mature themes ~~Humble Start~~ When Peter was 19, he met 25-year-old Wade in January when the merc was teaming up with the Avengers to help him find his target, who happened to be involved in something the Avengers were trying to undo. When the men first shook hands and Peter introduced himself, he removed his mask, to which Wade suddenly replied "Hot DAMN! What are you, a Disney prince?!" Peter, startled, backed away, and Tony urged Peter to put his mask back on. As it was, Spiderman and Deadpool got along. Before they all parted ways (with the problem resolved and Deadpool having gotten his man), the latter thought it might be fun to pop in once in a while and visit the Avengers. While the others drily insisted that he don't do that, Spidey thought Deadpool could be a potentially good friend. Despite Tony's aversion to it, Peter gave Wade his number and suggested they hang out sometime. Wade showed up a couple weeks later after having texted Peter off and on. Still shy about his appearance and preferring to not be seen at a lower profile, he came to the facility wearing fingerless gloves, concealing clothing, and his Deadpool mask. After he and Peter hung out the first couple of times, the younger of them asked if Wade would let him see his face. With lots of self-deprecating jokes, Wade said no. Sometimes Peter would go meet up with Wade and go mess around with him, and soon enough he introduced the assassin to his friends, Ned and MJ. They all talked to each other regularly, forming a tight little friend group. Wade sometimes felt like he didn't belong with them, like he was too old to be their friend, but they all had the same childish sense of humor. And given how intelligent the younger trio was, they felt mature to him. Many times, Wade forgot that he was older, even if it was only by a couple of years. As months passed, the Avengers got used to Wade's presence and didn't take much issue with Peter hanging out with him. It was innocent (although Tony loathed the sex jokes and vulgarity, especially when it was directed at his boy). It was clear that Peter had a vastly different moral compass and a much more sensible head on his shoulders, and was not going to be influenced by Wade's mercenary ways. He was trusted with the friendship. ~~The Crush~~ Wade fancied Peter from the start. The second the mask had come off, Wade was smitten, but he figured it would go away or just stay stagnant. He'd been attracted to and thirsted after people loads of times (hence all his sexual escapades), but he was never the settle-down type. He joked about Peter being attractive and sexy and made all kinds of quips, but given he was so crass by nature, Peter never took it too seriously. He did believe Wade thought he was attractive, but he knew he was like this with multiple people and figured it was harmless. Which it was, but he didn't understand that it was serious. The more Wade stuck around and the more he got to know the Spiderman, the more his feelings grew. He eventually had to face facts and accept that he didn't just like Peter for his body -- he liked his character. The boy was an absolute magnet; bright and sunny, happy, forgiving, generous, kind, merciful, hilarious, intelligent, and non-judgmental. He was the ultimate package. Wade also knew he was bisexual and knew that if he really worked up to it, asking Peter out wasn't out of the question or too far-fetched. What was far-fetched, to his mind, was the idea that Peter would ever say "yes." And even if he did say yes, was that fair to the Ironman's golden child? Wade was a self-sustaining disaster with baggage so heavy even Spiderman couldn't pick it up. As far as he was concerned, it was best to keep his feelings to himself and spare Peter the misery. What he didn't realize was Peter was starting to notice him, too. By Autumn, Wade sorely opened up to Weasel about his feelings. --- "Ew, do you like...love him?" "Maybe." "Gross. What are you gonna do?" Wade shrugged. "Nothing, same as usual. He doesn't need my insanity in his life, he's too kind and innocent." "But you wanna fuck him, right? Maybe just try to do that." "No, Jesus! Are you even listening? Peter's not that kind of guy, and even if he was into it, I can't take advantage of him like that." Weasel's face scrunched in mild disgust. "God, you have it bad for him..." "Yeah. It's like, he's a total bro, but fuckable. He's soft but strong, masculine but feminine, fierce but graceful." " " "He's the kind of guy you take on like fifteen dates, buy flowers and candy, get one of those stupid little Hallmark cards with some sappy bullshit saying how much the sender loves him. Then, you fuck him. Not at your place, but at his place, so he's more comfortable, and only after you've made him spaghetti and chocolate-covered strawberries, by candle light. You fuck gently. Passionately, but with strength, but you don't wanna hurt him. But he's secretly a sex tiger under the sheets, and it kinda scares you, but you love it, but you're still afraid to fuck him any other way than gently." "I feel like this is a fantasy you've had for a while." "No, of course not." "So...he's your friend, you want to fuck him, but you don't wanna just fuck him because that would be taking advantage of him. Because you'd rather have a relationship with him, but you don't wanna have a relationship with him because you think he deserves better, but you're gonna keep hanging out with him and torture yourself. Is that... I mean, am I close?" "Like a Hawkeye arrow through a nutsack with a target drawn on it." "Ow. I think my left testicle just rose back inside of me in fear." "Balls are very perceptive." "Okay, well here's my advice." Wade learned forward. "... You're fucked." "Thanks, I totally needed help figuring that out." "Who is the guy, anyway?" "...Peter Parker..." "Pete-- like Spiderman Peter Parker?" "Yup." "How the fuck...?" "I know." "I feel like I saw his face on the news last year when he got all discovered, but I don't remember. You got a picture?" "Yeah," Wade grumbled while reaching in his pocket for his phone. "Heh, 'course you do, you sick-o." After glaring at his friend, Wade pulled up a picture of Peter and zoomed in on his smiling face. "WHOA, holy MOSES, that guy is good looking!" "I know." "He looks like a stallion and a buck had sex with an Irish setter!" "Yeah, told ya. Fierce, but graceful." "I've always been a pussy-man, but I gotta say... He's making me question my sexuality." "He has that affect on people." "That is MAJORLY out of your league." "Thank you." Wade put his phone away. "How old is he?" "Nineteen." "Whoooa, a little on the young side, huh?" "Just a little, but he's mature for his age." "..." "...That sounded a little creepy, I take that back." --- Wade began an off-and-on effort of keeping Peter at arm's length. He went through periods of texting and hanging out with him less, but whenever it was clear that Peter could tell something was up, he snapped back into the picture. He couldn't bear to make Peter worry or feel as though he'd done something wrong. This went on for a couple of months. Peter too, was beginning to feel a little bit of romantic sting. Wade hooked up with a couple of people over the months, including Vanessa. There was a brief period where the two of them copulated like rabbits, and that was with the ex-prostitute knowing that Wade had feelings for someone. In the merc's mind, maybe he could get his needs out of his system, but it didn't work. If anything, he felt emptier after each fling. Peter was attracted to Wade before he even realized he was. Always seeking him out, making sure their friendship was solid, feeling a constant need to have a hand on him in one way or another. He also played into some of Wade's lewd jokes and would tease him. Then there was the dancing and singing, of course, which only got more intense as time went on (a natural instinct of the jumping spider to try and woo a mate through display). Tony and Steve began to notice the men getting closer, and Tony was very unhappy. Steve convinced him to stay quiet and let Peter figure it out. In late Fall, Peter turned 20. Wade was there for his party, as were Ned and MJ. It was a lot of fun! Come December, Wade turned 26. He'd tried another couple of times to get away from Peter again, but the boy wouldn't let him go. They were like a binary system of stars, unable to pull away from each other, constantly drawn back into one another's path by an unseen force. For how long could this go on before they collided? And when they did, would they blow up and break apart, or make one bigger, more beautiful star? ~~Spoken Interest~~ By January, Peter came to terms with his own crush, and secretly told Ned about it. For the next month and a half, the boys gabbed about it, and Ned found it adorable and kind of funny. Peter said he wanted to ask Wade out, but was nervous that Wade wouldn't be interested. "Well you're not gonna know unless you ask," said Ned. Peter flirted a little more with Wade, but it mostly came across awkwardly. It basically felt like he was just humiliating himself over and over again, but Wade was noticing the difference in him. Regardless, he tried to respect the space, and refused to give himself up. In February, Peter asked Wade to hang out with him at a park somewhere and "people watch," since Wade enjoyed that activity. He felt it would be a nice, serene setting to keep Wade's attention and finally admit his feelings. He told Ned about his plan; the latter was exhilarated at the thought, and said he'd be standing by. Peter put on a warm but nice outfit and drove off to their spot to talk. Even though it was casual as always, they could both sense tension. They sat and chatted for a while, and with a racing heart, Peter finally found the right moment to confess. --- "Hey, so... I've kinda been wanting to talk to you about something." "Hamburgers." "I... What?" "Hamburgers! They're weird, right? I mean, ham comes from pigs, and beef comes from cows. Hamburgers are made with cow meat, but we call them ham-burgers." Wade threw his hands up, head rolling about. "The fuck is up with that??" "O-oh, hah, I guess it sounds more appealing than...beef...burgers...?" Wade nodded thoughtfully. "Hm. Yeah, sounds kinda naughty." Peter could hear Wade's grin, and he stifled a laugh. His own smile was more earnest, but his desire flitted behind it. "Like beef curtain, or beef stick--" "Wade." "Yeah?" "Look, um..." He turned to face his company better, now getting nervous. "You and I are...really good friends, right?" "Why yes, broski dear." "Hah, well... It's just... Ahh, I don't wanna say anything and...mess that up." "...Well, what do you wanna say...?" There was a long silence. "...Okay -- okay, total honesty... Wade, I..." He drew in a deep breath. "I like you..." They stared at each other. After a long silence, the older male playfully slapped Peter's arm. "I like you too, beef buddy! ... Yikes, wow, see? Beef is just a naughty word." Peter blinked, thoughts spinning in his head a mile a minute. Wade knew what he really meant, but he couldn't begin to believe that in its suddenness. He was bracing for Peter to call him out on his own crush and possibly disown him, but this threw him for a loop. "N... N-no, no Wade, I mean... I like you...as more than a buddy, or a bro..." He swallowed. "Or a friend..." He rubbed his hands together, slowly and tensely, brown orbs wide while looking at Wade. The cold white eyes of Wade's mask pierced back at him. "...Oh..." "A-and... I just thought, m-maybe, if...you don't think it's weird, or if -- I don't know, if maybe you liked me too, we could...date...?" There was another long pause. This time, Wade understood for certain. When he looked forward to contemplate, stunned expression hidden by the mask, Peter looked off and around, his heart sinking. There were times when Wade was genuinely difficult to read, and this was one of them. Wade was getting his wish, it was like the start of his fantasy had come true! All he had to do was agree to it. "Uh, I don't think we should do that." He regretted it the second he said it. Peter felt his heart drop, and his face begin to turn red with shock and embarrassment. "Oh," he croaked while looking down at his lap. Wade's answer stunned him. When the merc spoke, he tried to bring it back to a place of casualty in the hopes of removing the heavy feeling from the air. "Look, don't get me wrong, you've heard me talk about ya. You're precious, and I'd be beside myself to fuck your brains out." Peter almost smiled, but the desperation for answers overpowered the natural response to do so. Wade continued. "But you're romantic, you need stability. I'm a one-night stand kind of guy, friends-with-benefits and all that. You're not really about that life, right? I mean, come on. You wouldn't sleep with me without getting to know me, right?" Peter swallowed something dry and thick. Looking away, the hope for this to go anywhere withdrew from his gaze, and he shook his head. "No..." Even Wade was at a loss for words for a moment. He may have turned his head away, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Peter's heart breaking. He saw his red cheeks, his pinkish eyes. He could feel the sadness, and a lot of it was coming from himself, too. But he pulled it together again and lightly slapped the back of his hand against Peter's shoulder. "Eyyy, come on, this doesn't change anything, right? We're still pals." Peter quickly nodded. He was polite as ever, but the sensation that he had just gotten hit by a train was easy to read. "No -- yeah, yeah yeah yeah, it's -- it's just... It's a little embarrassing, aha, I mean... You know, I..." "Nah, it's not so bad. It's adorable! Like I said, doesn't change a thing. Now when we get past this, I can tease you about thinking I'm a hot piece of ass." Peter did finally crack a small, broken smile and shook his head. He was glad that Wade wanted to be friends, but the damage was done. "...I mean you still wanna be friends, right?" "Absolutely! I just... It's kind of a hard pill to swallow..." "Yeah, I know. You put yourself out there, then get shot down..." With genuine remorse and a strong but hidden wave of self-loathing, Wade laid a hand on Peter's shoulder. "I'm sorry." Peter nodded again and closed his eyes. He felt emotional, but why? Did it really mean that much to him? Staying strong, he glanced at Wade, mustering a hurt smile. "Don't be sorry, you know I prefer honesty. I mean it'd be really stupid to say 'yes' when you don't want that, right?" As if Wade's heart couldn't sink any further. "Yeah..." "Look man, um... It's -- I'm not like mad or anything, you didn't do anything wrong, but... I think I should go home, and just, like...try to process it--" "Yeah! Nothing wrong with that. I'll give you a couple days to uh...reel." "Yeah, I think that sounds good." When they rose to their feet, they both chuckled sadly. In their awkwardness, Peter offered his hand to shake, which Wade accepted uneasily, but eventually pulled Peter into a side hug. "It'll be fine, we'll get past it. You take your time." "K-ay..." With one last hurt smile, Peter left Wade's company. On the way back to his car, he finally let the tears roll. Wade watched him go until his car was out of sight, stunned by his own foolishness. He wasn't stupid; he knew he had made Peter cry. He knew he'd broken his heart, and he hated himself for it. When Wade got to his apartment, he took out his anger on his environment, taking to breaking a lot of things in his living space. --- Peter did his best to get most of his emotions out before he got home, but the sadness and hurt would linger. When he got inside he pretended everything was okay, but it was obvious his mind was elsewhere. Not too long after getting in, he went to his room and called Ned. --- "Hey, what's up? Did you talk to him?" "Yeah." "...Uh-oh. What did he say?" "He said 'no.'..." "Awww man, Peter, I'm sorry. Did he say why?" Peter tried to keep his sniffles quiet, but Ned could hear them anyway. "Yeah, u-um... He said that...you know, he's a one-night-stand kind of guy, and that I'm -- we're -- ... He doesn't...think it would be a good idea, because he just...likes sex, and I'm romantic, so..." "That really sucks, I'm sorry." "Me too..." "...Hey, I rigged my GTA 4 game to get Carmageddon on the 360." Peter continued to hold back his emotions, but only half-cared about Ned's random statement. "Y-eah...?" "Yeah, it's really funny! Can I come over and show you? It should work on your 360." Now understanding, Peter smiled a little. "Yeah, that sounds cool. We could, um... I could make...popcorn, or something." "Awesome! Is now good?" "Sure, uh -- lemme ask Tony first, just to be sure." "Okay. Text me." --- After they said goodbye and hung up, Peter got confirmation from Tony that having Ned over for a few hours would be fine. While on his way to go prepare everything, May found Peter and insisted he tell her what was wrong, as she could tell something was up. Although he'd wanted to keep it hidden from his elders, Peter (naturally) trusted May and knew it was confidential, so he came clean. Seeing her nephew's broken heart, May consoled him and offered a little advice about how to heal up from it, and insisted that they would, yes, go back to being friends in time. ~~SpideyPool~~ In the days passing, Peter and Wade refrained from messaging each other. Peter went about his usual life, including going on regular patrols. He took down a couple of small criminals, helped a few people in minor danger. This always felt good; even the littlest of ways he could help people made his day brighter and his heart fuller. Wade, meanwhile, had spent the days since the rejection in sorrow and self-hatred. He'd smashed a lot of the stuff in his apartment and all but shredded the couch, laying face-down on the tattered furniture in a mess of stuffing, old food scraps, alcohol and the same outfit he'd had on when he last talked to Peter (minus the coat, boots and mask). It had been five days. But on this fifth day, Colossus happened to pop in. He knocked. --- "Wade? You are playing Elvis again. Are you all right?" "AwwwWWW!! I'm not in the mood, Sputnik! Fuck the shit off!" Colossus opened the door and hunched in, turning off Wade's music. "You should really lock door. Wade, you are a mess; what is wrong?" The merc answered him with his face still down and pressed to the couch. "What's wrong is this big metal dildo man keeps showing up at my door even after I tell him to fuck. the. shit. OFF." Colossus looked around, ignoring him. "How do you live like this..." "I'm not living, I'm existing." "Clearly. Is this another episode? Perhaps I should take you back to the mansion again." Wade lifted his head, tired eyes closed. "GOD, no! No more bland-coated walls with old white men all over them and every other X-Man acting like the studio couldn't afford to pay them to even just walk around and pretend they live there." Colossus raised a brow, but ignored him, as he was so used to doing. "Well, if this is not episode, then what is it?" Wade's face flopped back into the couch, pressing in harder than earlier. "Imn mm bmng m thnntl dmshm." "What?" With a heavy groan of aggravation, he sat up entirely, allowing small bags of food trash to spill onto the floor from its position under his body. Colossus winced at the crinkling and crumbs. "It's me being a total dipshit..." "What did you do," he asked tiredly while folding his arms. "I told you I liked some guy, right? Well... Turns out, he liked me, too." "That is good news." "Yeah, it was, until he told me he liked me and I shot him down like a retarded clay pigeon in a Guantanamo Bay shooting range." "..." "I swear to god, it's like while I wasn't looking, the cancer snuck into my brain and made me even stupider." "Why did you turn him down?" "Because -- he's nice, okay? I don't just wanna get in his pants, I want to date him. I want to have a relationship, but he's not the person I should be trying that out with on account of how fucked sideways with a cactus my head is." "On inside, or outside?" When Wade glared up at him, Colossus chuckled. Squinting, Wade lowered his voice. "Are you The Moby? 'Cos I haven't even taken The Great American Challenge yet, and I feel like you're stretching my ass WIDE open." "Eugh! Listen..." Colossus softened up and sat beside him carefully. "You are...different, very rough around the edges. You are afraid that this guy is too good for you." "No, I KNOW he's too good for me. I can't risk screwing up his life." "How do you know that would happen?" "Uh, do I not ruin everything everywhere I go?" "Only when you really mean to. But he likes you too, yes?" "He says he does... I'm not sure why." "Maybe because, in your own strange way, you are charming man. You have a big heart, you care about people -- most of all, him, it seems." "That's why I gotta stay away from him." "No, that is why you must go to him." Wade glanced up at his company. "You must go tell him the truth, give it a second chance. He deserves to know what you are thinking, does he not?" "... No, I don't want to make him more miserable." "If he is miserable, it is only because you have not been honest with him." "...You really think I should do this? You really think I should go over there and just...tell him how I feel?" "Absolutely." "...Just admit that you want me, Colossus." Colossus sighed. "I don't know,..." "Trust me, if you don't do this, then you will never know what could be. You will spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been, your soul will forever be restless." "..." "...Who is it that you are pining for so badly?" Wade's voice almost cracked. "P-eter Parker..." "Peter Parker?? You mean Spiderman???" "Yeah." "OH, he is a VERY good young man... Erh...over eighteen, yes?" "He's twenty." "OH, good." "Like you said, he's very good. He's not...he doesn't deserve all my shit." "You will never know, Wade. Not unless you take risk." "..." "If you try your best, if you let love in, and it is real, then your messy life will work itself out." Wade looked up at Colossus, who then put a caring, large metal hand on his shoulder. "Maximum effort." "...Okay... Maximum effort." --- When Colossus left, Wade showered and started cleaning up. On the sixth morning after their last conversation, Wade called Peter, but the latter was around other people while in the facility. Not wanting to talk to him in front of anyone, he declined the call, but texted Wade saying "Hang on i'll call in a sec." He went to his room and did as was promised, calling Wade back while sitting on his bed. --- "Hey, Spidey!" "Hey, Wade." He sounded a little tired, but was kind and open-minded. "What's up?" "Uhh not much, I was with Tony and Wanda and didn't want to talk in front of them. Just...sitting in my room, now." "Gotcha." "So...did you want something?" "Aww, you're still upset about the other day," he said with an audible smile. Peter sat up, voice more peppy. "No, no, I mean I'm not upset, I'm just... It... 'Upset' is just such a harsh word, um... I'm just kinda sad, you know? It's -- I'm still just trying to...make sense of it all, figure out what's...going on in my head." "I understand." "I'm sorry..." "Why are you sorry?" "I don't know, I just feel bad, I mean this can't be fun for you, either. I just feel really stuck. And -- I told May, but only because she could tell how down I was." "May is nice." "She's the best..." "...I miss you, Pete." "Me too... Ned...rigged his GTA 4 disk to run Carmageddon on the 360." "What?! That's sick as FUCK!" "Yeah... Maybe sometime we could hang out and play it together. It's really funny..." "I'd like that. Or... I could just come hang out with ya right now!" Peter sat up a little more. "Oh, Wade, I don't know, I... I think I still need a little more time to process everything. It's -- I'm still not mad or anything, you're still my friend, it's just kinda hard..." "Oh... Well that's too bad, 'cos I'm right outside your window." "--What??" After Wade's shadow cast onto the wall and got Peter's attention, he quickly looked to the left and saw Wade in the window, waving happily at him before putting the phone back to his ear. Peter tossed his phone down in shock and ran to the window. "Wade!" He opened the glass pane, shivering at the freezing air. "What are you doing?!" "Just felt I needed to come by and clear things up with you." After realizing he was talking pointlessly into his phone, Wade shrugged and tossed it. "Wha--" Peter quickly fired a web at the little computer, snatching it and yanking it into his hand. Wade crawled into Peter's room through the window, and then the latter closed it and handed Wade his phone. "Why would you throw this??" Wade took his phone back and chuckled. "Ewww, now it has webs on it...!" "That's better than being broken!" Wade shrugged the snow off his shoulders. He was in full suit with a beanie on his head over his mask, and a fur coat. "Plungers make really good building-climbing tools, did you know that?" "Eugh, you -- you used plungers to get up here?" "They're all new, it's fine. Well -- except for the one for my right foot, I wouldn't touch that one." Wade slid off his coat and beanie. "Wade, what are you doing here...?" "I wanted to talk to you about the other day." Peter motioned for him to be quiet, then stepped over and locked his door. Turning back to face him, he kept his voice low, and so his visitor did the same. "Okay?" "Look... The thing is, I like you, too. A LOT. I've had it bad for you from the start, Petey, but... It's like I said the other day; you're a nice guy, and--" "Wait, let me just stop you there." He waited. "I know that you like to sleep around, and that's okay. Some people are romantic, and some people aren't, and there's nothing wrong with that. I'm not judging you, I think what you do is totally fine." Wade nodded. "But... I'm still not that guy, you know? I still need those things, I'm -- I want a relationship. It's okay that you don't want that, you don't have to explain yourself. But if this is a request to just...fool around, um... I'm...not game for that, I'm sorry." "...Aww, you're so cute," he said happily before roughing Peter's hair lovingly. Peter stood in blank confusion, having no response to that. "I'm not here because I want to have sex with you. I mean, I'd like to, but not like...right now, I mean like in the future, when we've been seeing each other for a little while." "..." "When you asked me out, I said no because I didn't think I was right for you. I still don't, honestly, I mean you should really, just...turn around and run while you have the chance. Because I'm about to ask you something, and I don't have a lot of patience, and I might just blurt it, cut and dry." "Wade, what the hell are you trying to say?" "I'm saying... Will you go out with me...?" Peter stood in total shock, staring blankly at Wade. "......Is that a 'no'? That's probably a wise choice, but I'm gonna...need verbal confirmation. I mean if it's not 'yes,' it's 'no,' because basic principle, but ya know. ...?" He finally blinked and shook his head a little, making an effort to make sure he kept his voice low. "Okay, wait... You do want to go out with me...?" "Yeah. I've wanted to since like, last June." "FFFFFFFF-- Wade...?!?!?" "Yeah... Pathetic, I know." "So why did you say 'no' the other day??" "I told you, because I don't think I'm right for you. I'm super fucked up and you're really nice! You're --" "Shh...!" He lowered his voice to something of a shouting whisper. "You have your whole life ahead of you to meet fucked up people, you should at least have some normal, healthy relationships first...!" "Wade, that's up to me to decide, and I know you think you're like the worst person ever, but you're actually really a good guy...!" "Why are we whispering...?!" "Because if Tony finds out we're even discussing dating he'll throw you to the moon...!" "That would suck...!" "I know...!" They both stood a little taller, each sighing some and looking off before focusing again. They stopped whispering, but remained quiet. "So..." "I'm just saying... I've got a lot of baggage, and problems, and a whirlwind of mind shit that falls out of its little shit-filled cabinet whenever it feels like it. I have LOVED being your friend, but I'm..." "...Yes...?" "...I'm scared of hurting you..." Peter relaxed and took a step towards him. "You're not gonna hurt me." "You don't know that." "And you don't know that you will. But if you think that, but you still had the nerve to come tell me how you feel and ask me out..." Wade looked up at him cautiously. "...Then you must have some sort of faith in it being okay, right?" "..." Peter started to smile. "What if we just tried it? Why don't we just...date...? And if it doesn't work out, then that's okay. We can just be friends. I mean that's what we were working up to being again anyway, right?" "That's how it would have to be. I can't lose you, Spidey, you mean a lot to me." "..." "You're like ice on a burn. You have...the BEST heart. I don't wanna hurt it." "Stuff's gonna hurt me, Wade. That's life, it's okay. If you hurt me, we can get past it." "...You promise?" Peter smiled bigger. "I promise. Hey, who knows? Maybe I'll hurt you or something, pfft." Peter couldn't see it, but Wade was smiling, too. "If you're serious, and this isn't you feeling guilty about saying 'no' or asking for a one night stand... I would love to go out with you. PLEASE, let me go out with you." --- And so it was, they secretly began dating. Wade made arrangements to take Peter out that very afternoon. After Wade left through the window, taking his plungers with him, Peter called Ned in a slight panic. He excitedly explained what happened and told him he needed to prepare himself for the date, and they hung up. When it came to Tony, Peter had to keep quiet. Like before, he didn't tell anyone, including May; he just didn't want anyone to know yet. The first date was just spent with the boys wandering around a nice part of the city, discussing how they liked each other and how long each of them have felt it. Wade explained that he was a mess for the days following his rejection of Peter, and that it took Colossus busting into his apartment and yanking him onto his feet to get him to go talk. He also confessed to having slept with a couple of people, including Vanessa, which Peter was more than fine with. But, he emphasized, Wade really needed to look into STI testing just to be safe. The first date didn't end with kissing or anything randy, and Wade still didn't show Peter his face. Instead, they hugged, and Peter drove back home. The dates following were very similar, with food as part of the equation. They even had a "parkour date," where both got in full suit and leaped around the city, showing their abilities to one another for the sheer sport of it. Peter even held Wade and swung around the city with him on his hip. According to Wade, this was terrifying but romantic. By this time, Peter told May and MJ. After a few weeks, Peter and Wade felt relatively steady. Tony and Steve could tell something was different with Peter when it came to Wade, and Tony had his suspicions from the start. Peter knew that Tony could sense something unusual, but he played around it and acted casually. Tony chose to stay quiet about it. During a date one late afternoon when Peter and Wade were on a harbor, in suit, the sun out after a light rain (yes, it must be that specific), Peter pressed a little harder to see Wade's face. He understood why Wade was shy about it, but kindly argued that it was difficult to date someone he'd known for over a year while still not having a clue what he looked like. Feeling that Peter's reaction could really make or break the potential of their relationship, Wade finally conceded and removed the mask. To his surprise, there was no horror or tension, or even the slightest bit of disgust. He looked a little surprised, briefly raising his eyebrows with a blink, and studied him. He said "Wow," and that was about it. Wade started to make jokes about himself, to which Peter put his arms around Wade and told him he wasn't allowed to insult himself whenever he was in the Spiderman's arms. This became a new theme with them. After a minute of talking, and with Wade allowing his new partner to lightly touch his scarred cheeks, he asked if Peter had anymore requests before the mask went back on. --- "...You could kiss me..." Wade stared at him in light disbelief. "...Or -- or not, it's totally optional. Just a suggest--" As the cliche stands, Wade kissed him, cutting off his sentence. When he pulled away, Peter was stunned and glowing. "O-ohhoh... Okay, I-I don't have a lot of reference, but... That was really good..." "I agree." --- Wade put his mask back on, and the two were smitten. A few days after their first kiss, Peter finally sat down with Tony and Steve and came clean about his recent dating situation. Steve didn't love the idea, and Tony hated it, but the former offered support and simply asked that Peter be careful and trust his instincts. Tony was a tad more chilly with his honesty, but when Peter became insecure, he emphasized that he wasn't angry. He just didn't trust Wade on a romantic level, and feared Peter getting hurt. This gave Peter the opportunity to remind Tony that he was a big boy now, and he could handle making his own mistakes, and was willing to face the consequences of his decisions. It ended on a positive note, but Tony couldn't hide the lack of thrill he had over the new relationship. Weeks turned into months, and things when steady. In their time together, Peter got permission from Tony to make his very own original suit. Given how comfortable he was with Wade, and with the relationship also recently going public, Peter felt the desire to start fresh and switch up his look with a lot more blue. For one thing, the blue complimented Deadpool's vast red and helped him stand out.~ That May, when they'd been going out for about three months, Peter started becoming more bold in his physical interest in Wade. He'd been to the merc's apartment several times as well, and had actually managed to convince him to start cleaning the place up and get some new furniture. He wasn't judgmental; he merely worried for Wade's state of mind and the health hazards, insisting that he might feel better and more confident if he lived in better conditions. This conversation brought Wade to inadvertently mention how he was desensitized to the squalor due to being forced to sit in his own waste and vomit for a while when he had gotten ill at the Mutant Factory. This was one of the most serious things Wade brought up right off the bat, but upon seeing Peter's face stricken with shock and concern, he clammed up. Peter assured him that there was nothing to be ashamed of, and that he appreciated Wade talking to him. The conversation helped Wade feel better, much to his shock, and he agreed that it might be good for him to clean up the apartment. So he did just that. It wasn't spectacular, but the improvement was great, and Wade actually found himself wanting better for how he lived. In June, Peter's physical interests were more clear. They'd discussed sex, but Peter was shy, and Wade was never one to push. But finally, while making out one day, Peter came to the conclusion that he was ready to be intimate. They each went home and planned for Peter to go to Wade's. They each wanted to shower and prepare for it first. Peter brought a small bag with a movie and his suit in it (just in case). He told Tony that they were just going to have a movie date. Tony didn't like it, and insisted Peter also take his iron suit (which is tightly compact into a small shape when dormant like the Ironman suit). Peter obeyed, willing to do anything to help Tony feel more comfortable about him being out and about. At Wade's apartment, the pair chilled for a little while, but Wade was eager to show his company how he'd prepared the bedroom. He led Peter to his room, revealing soft pink and orange shaded string lights pinned up around the walls, nice bedding, and an overall sense of warmth. Needless to say, Peter was very impressed, letting Wade know he did not expect this, and didn't require it in the future. But yes, he absolutely loved it, and knew he would have a good time. When they were done, they both fell asleep in Wade's bed. Tony called around 1 in the morning, asking where Peter was. He was a little upset, but nothing Peter couldn't work around. He apologized and said they were both tired from watching the movie and then playing some video games, so Peter crashed on the couch and forgot to tell Tony he was staying the night. After a little back and forth, Peter reassured him that everything was all right and encouraged him to go back to sleep. He promised to come home early in the morning with a box of donuts as an apology. Tony hesitantly agreed, and left him alone. Once more, the next day, Peter made a point to tell Ned about his escapades. The next few times Peter went to Wade's house, he ended up spending the night. And again, he lied his ass off to Tony, saying they just had a new routine of playing video games until they crashed. Tony knew better, and Peter knew that, but neither were willing to give on the subject. By this time, Peter quietly told aunt May that his relationship with Wade was now very serious. She was excited for him, proud and happy and double checked that he was being safe. Embarrassed and a little exasperated, he confirmed this, and just like that May was back in fun mode. She was able to accept that Peter was grown now, and she was glad to try and guide him through this very impressionable period in his life. The morning after Peter's fifth time with Wade, Colossus visited unexpectedly while the boys were still sleeping. Wade got up and addressed him, completely naked, while Peter stayed back and hurriedly put his clothes on before meekly coming out to greet the metal man. He was shy but thrilled to meet the infamous X-Man. After Peter convinced Wade to at least put on some underwear, they all sat down together and had a chat. Colossus was happy to finally meet Spiderman, and when Peter got home, he told his family about how funny it was to wake up and meet Colossus. Later that day, Tony finally pulled Peter aside and broke down, having a serious discussion with him about the relationship. He asked for full honesty on whether they had become physical, and Peter answered honestly. The talk was civil, as Tony loved Peter too much to ever take out any frustration on him, but his concern was clear. He told Peter he respected that, that Peter didn't need to feel bad about it; he was just making sure everything was okay. Not that it was any of his business, but he considered his family to be his business. Peter didn't mind, so long as Tony stayed cool. The Ironman did confirm that Peter understood the fact that he wasn't going to invite Wade to live with them. Peter agreed. When Tony asked if Peter was thinking about living with Wade, the latter said "no." "So what are you gonna do?" Tony asked. Peter told him that he would just keep doing as they had been; dating, hanging out, and if they wanted to have personal time, Peter would go to Wade's. He told Tony he felt he really loved Wade, and was okay with the fact that he was, in Tony's words, "super fucked up." He understood that he wasn't responsible for Wade's mental health, but that he enjoyed helping him through some of his issues. He understood that trauma like this was a long-haul, and he was willing to at least try. After all, everyone he knew was traumatized, himself included. The conversation helped clear the air a lot for the father-and-son pair, and Tony grew a greater respect for the relationship. A week or so after that conversation, Tony ended up having a talk with Wade. The merc shocked him with his raw honesty about his feelings for Peter, revealing his only intention was to be happy with him without weighing him down. He loved him, and he would do anything for him, including whatever he could to please his family. He understood why everyone flocked to shield Peter; he was different, special. It was then that Tony finally saw an ounce of what Peter saw in Wade, and his respect grew. In August, Peter turned 21 and in December, Wade turned 27. In that time frame, Peter began sneaking Wade into his room sometimes to get physical.~ Not long after Wade's birthday, Tony finally came to grips with the reality that Wade wasn't going anywhere. His relationship with Peter was incredibly strong and steady, and despite Peter having his job, his family and friends and Wade, he'd managed to make it all work. They were mature, and mature together, and Tony wanted Peter to have every opportunity possible to make things a little easier. So as a surprise, he told Peter he was going to allow Wade to move into the facility, even though he wasn't being offered any Avenger titles. He even said he didn't mind if Wade and him shared his bedroom, so long as they weren't mindless sex idiots and kept everyone awake all the time. Stunned, Peter was beyond grateful. Together, everyone gathered up and invited Wade to the facility to make the offer. Wade was uncertain at first, asking if they wanted him to be an Avenger. "GOD no," said Sam. Peter informed him that this had no strings attached, and asked if he was ready to move in with him. Wade said yes, and accepted this very unexpected, beautiful birthday present. In being offered to move in, this was the Avengers fully embracing Wade and adopting him into their weird, messed up family. In time, they would learn to see that Wade was in fact, a good man with a big heart, and become used to his mouth. ~~Love Forever After~~ Living together, it was a dream come true. For the first time in Wade's life, things finally seemed to be on a steady path, and he would do anything to keep it that way. He was happy, he wanted to stay happy, and most of all, he wanted to do well for Peter. With them being together (even before Wade had moved in), Peter helped Wade open up about his past and his feelings. He wasn't judgmental, he wasn't off-put by Wade's mannerisms, weirdness, strange coping habits, random emotional moments, nightmares, or even the nastiest of content regarding his past. He just listened and consoled, and even shielded Wade from the harshness of others. With a guy as wonderful as the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, even though he wasn't perfect, Wade had a tough time feeling like he could give back enough. What he didn't tend to understand was Peter already felt Wade did give back. Wade was a passionate, attentive, caring, thorough lover, and exceedingly generous. He did anything and everything he could for Peter. Aside from just being the best mate he could be, he couldn't think of much else, but it was more than enough. Peter needed him, too. And when Peter had problems, his heart was heavy or he had his own traumatic episodes, Wade was there for him. He applied the very things he'd learned from his love and gave back. After some months living with Peter, Wade had his first serious emotional breakdown related to his trauma. Deadpool, Spiderman, Ironman, Scarlet Witch, and War Machine were out on a mission one night. On a rooftop, after the mission was finished and they had regrouped, Peter was wrapping some things up when a casual conversation started between Wade and the others. The Mutant Factory got brought up, which Wade appeared fine with. He joked casually about what he went through, and the others listened. But at a certain point, after making a comment about his torture that initially caused him to laugh, his laughter suddenly turned to tears. At first the others just went along with it, used to Wade's emotional switches at this point and figuring it would be fine. But when the merc's weeps became sobs and he could no longer stand up, everyone finally realized something was wrong. James stood by Wade and Wanda knelt beside him, clueless as to how to help or what exactly was happening. Tony called Peter to their gathering on the rooftop, and when the Spiderman saw his partner in a heavy heap of tears, he sprung into action. Wanda and James backed away to give Peter the space to console him. He was understandably confused and alarmed by the development, but stayed calm. Tony had an idea of what was happening, cluing Peter in with a reminder of how he had suddenly felt okay enough to grieve his uncle when the time came. It clicked; Wade finally felt safe and comfortable enough in his life that his mind was ready to start the healing process. Peter carried Wade away from the group, who let them have their space. He removed his mask, and convinced Wade to let him take his off, and he held him. Wade announced that he didn't understand what was going on and that he couldn't stop, so Peter told him not to stop. He told him that this was a good thing even though it didn't feel like it, and that it wouldn't last forever. After a while, when Wade was calm enough, Peter took him home. He explained to him what he thought was happening. From that point on, Wade was much more prone to having harder breakdowns, but at that point they seemed to happen at more appropriate times. He also had an easier time talking about it, even if it did hurt like all hell. Thankfully, for Wade's sake, his primary trauma response now is sobbing and nightmares. And when it happens, someone is always there to help him. Of course he still has his random weepy moments at weird things, but Peter has always been understanding of that and never judged him. If anything, he only ever helped Wade feel validated. When Peter was 22 and Wade was 28, the Trial of the Gods ensued. This was hard on Wade, and revealed he had a host of dependency issues with Peter. It led to them having a serious but gentle talk, where Peter offered to work with him on easing his mind about the fact that bad things happen, and if anything bad ever happened to Peter, he needed the peace of mind that Wade would take care of himself. Stay clean, healthy, surround himself with his friends, continue to do good things. If not for himself, then for Peter, because he would want that. Wade agreed, even though the conversation was hard. Ultimately, Wade's mind never reached any peace until he went on a mission and secretly killed himself in order to get to The Realm of Silence, Interitus's realm of the dead. After having a quick conversation wherein Wade asked the elk god if he would ever die for good, Interitus told him 'yes.' He said that Wade would not live forever, that his time would come when it was right, and in death he would be with his beloved. This gave Wade all the peace he needed. Someday, Wade and Peter will get married. How, when and under what circumstances remain a mystery. For now, they're just loving life together. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#Marvel #MCU #SpideyPool #Spiderman #Deadpool #Wade Wilson #Peter Parker

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mckinlily · 4 years ago

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shalluraweek day 1: stars/sky

Summary: stars/sky Shiro had a celebrity crush.

read on ao3: here

“Sure you’re not freaking out, Shiro?” said Keith, his voice bland and amused.

Shiro realized he was repeatedly doing and undoing the Velcro on the back of his (one) fingerless glove and quickly put his hands behind his back. Behind him, someone—probably Pidge—snorted.

Shiro breathed and looking around, forcing himself to take in his surroundings. Small office, lots of sound equipment, his and Keith’s guitars against the wall, air conditioner that made that annoying hum. Keith was nearest him, slouched in his leather jacket in a way that made Shiro wonder if he and Keith made it as a punk duo on Keith’s emo vibe alone. Sprawled across the couch was Lance, their PR and social media manager, sipping on a smoothie and clearly snickering at Shiro. Pidge was fighting Lance’s legs encroaching on her space on the couch. She worked on post-production with Hunk, a musical genius who played an impossible number of instruments and had a knack of fleshing out every song idea Keith and Shiro had into a massive hit, and helped Lance out where PR became technical. She was also definitely smirking at Shiro. Really, Hunk was the only one of them not actively laughing at him, and that was because his expression was worryingly close to pity.

Why did Shiro like these people again?

Oh yeah, because his band and the team behind it had become something like a second family.

And sometimes “family” meant “incredibly annoying.”

Shiro resisted the urge to fiddle with one of his piercings. “I’m fine,” he said stiffly.

“Yeah. Suuuuurre, you are,” drawled Lance.

Hunk shot Lance a look, clearly chiding him for not being sympathetic. He looked back to Shiro. “You really don’t need to be nervous.”

“Sure he does,” said Pidge, grinning over her glasses at him. Besides Keith, she has known Shiro the longest, and Shiro could see the blackmail in her eyes as she looked at him. She took on a sing-song voice, “It’s Allura.”

Just the look in Pidge's eyes was enough to make Shiro blush.

“Ugh, why are you like this?” Keith threw his hands in the air. “You sing your heart out to thousands of people an audience, take the lead in interviews, talk openly about being bi and having PTSD on YouTube, but having a conversation with one singer—”

“She’s not just another singer!” objected Shiro, scandalized. “She’s Allura. Do you have any idea the kinds of records she’s broken? Her latest album—”

“Yeah, yeah. We all know about your massive crush on Allura,” laughed Lance.

Shiro huffed. “That's not it.”

They didn't get it. It wasn’t just that Allura was totally hot (breathtakingly beautiful more like) or an incredible musician (which she definitely was) or had a voice that when she sang would make even sirens weep in jealousy (though she definitely did). She also was the kind of social activist Shiro dreamed of learning how to be. A political refugee who climbed her way to the top from nothing, she used her massive following to push for social change and speak out against inequality in all its forms. The way she handled personal attacks—on her race, her gender, her sexuality (pan, as seem on the flag in her Twitter profile)—with grace, dignity, and yet absolutely no apology left Shiro in awe. He respected the hell out of her, ever since the first time he saw a video of her neatly dissecting the intersection of racism and sexism in the music industry, and privately considered her one of his personal heroes.

And she was coming to the studio because someone thought it was a good idea for them to collab, and Shiro didn’t know how to deal.

“Okay, okay.” Lance rolled off the couch, picking up a can of whatever sugary death drink they were supposed to be promoting and opening it to hand to Shiro. “Time to chill out. Take a sip of our ‘paying for Pidge’s new sound system’ drink and remember you’rean internationally known star, too. It’s going to be fine. I planned it.”

“Oh, and that’s never come back to bite us before,” said Keith.

“Excuse you, I made Grumpy Cat Keith a meme! It’s was a stroke of marketing genius!”

Shiro opted to ignore Lance and Keith’s bickering, choosing instead to take a sip of the dubious promotional sports drink—

“I mean, worst come to worst, we could always use the footage to make another meme campaign if Shiro completely falls on his face.”

—only to immediately spit it out again. “Pidge!”

“Sorry,” smirked Pidge, unrepentant. Then her eyes fell on his shirt that he’d spilled his drink all over. “Oh. Uh. Actually sorry.”

Shiro looked down at his chest with mounting dismay. Of all the days to wear a white shirt (this was why he wore black: it wasn’t depressing, it was practical). The promotional drink was an unnatural red and splattered over most his front. It wasn’t something that could be hidden and Shiro could already tell the color wasn’t coming out.

“We could try rising it?” said Pidge, and she honestly sounded contrite.

“Dump the drink over all the shirt?” Keith offered.

“Hold on,” said Hunk. He started rummaging behind the couch. “I think Shiro’s vest from the Toronto show is in here. I know that shows off your prosthetic a lot without anything to go under it but—”

“That’s fine. You’re right: it’s probably the best option. Lance, when is Allura supposed to show up?”

Lance glanced at his phone. “Uh, now, actually?”

“All right. Not much time.” Shiro forced the panic to stay out of his voice. “Hunk—”

“Found it!”

“Good.” Shiro grabbed the back of his shirt, getting ready to pull it over his head. It had stuck to his chest where the drink spilled and was starting to feel sticky.

“Um, guys?”

Shiro yanked his shirt off, turning as he said, “Yeah, Pidge?”

But it wasn’t Pidge who answered.

“Oh my.”

Oh no.

Oh no nononononononono.

Allura—superstar, perfect, idolized Allura—was standing their doorway, blocking the way for the rest of her entourage. Shiro pressed his crumbled shirt to his chest in a vain attempt to preserve his modesty. Which was helped not at all by the way Allura (unfairly hot in skin-tight silver jeans and an adorable crop-top) was staring.

Staring. At him. Shiro. Who could feel that last of that godsforsaken drink drip to his bellybutton.

They both started talking at once.

“Sorry—”

“So sorry—”

“—I was just—”

“—Of course! Abs—I mean! Absolutely—”

“—you too—wait, that’s not—”

Pidge’s cackling laughter put a stop to their train wreck, but only gave more time for Shiro’s blush to attempt to melt his face off. Fortunately (or not so fortunately?), Allura didn’t seem to be faring much better.

“Should we give you two some privacy?” asked Lance, all waggling eyebrows.

“No, you should not,” said Allura, drawing herself up and doing a nice job of returning to professionalism considering Shiro was still half-naked and drowning in mortification. She brushes her hands on her pants. “Let’s return to business.”

Her assistant snorted behind her. “Like you can talk business when you just ogled his chest for five minutes.”

“Romelle!”

Well, at least Shiro wasn’t the only one mortified now.

“We’re here to discuss a collab, which is what we’ll do,” said Allura. But she met Shiro’s eyes looking sheepish and a tiny bit shy. "Unless..."

“Could I buy you a drink after this?”

That was not what Shiro intended to say.

But, holy crow, if Shiro had thought that pink crop-top looked hot on Allura before, it had nothing on the tiny, confident smirk growing on her face. “Hm. Are you referring to the one on your chest?”

Shiro's mouth continued to run without his permission.

“I was thinking we could work up to that.”

Keith pretended to gag behind him, but Shiro didn't care because Allura, freaking I-don’t-need-a-last-name-I’m-like-Beyonce Allura, was flirting with him and Shiro was pretty sure if he tried right now, he could fly.

“Ugh, gross. Gross! Hunk, don’t look!” said Pidge, scrambling to put her hands over Hunk’s eyes. Meanwhile, Lance was smiling like a shark.

“Perhaps we finish this up first?” said Allura. The way she was smiling at him made Shiro feel like there were tiny supernova going off in his chest.

“That—that works.” Frankly, Shiro was astonished his words still worked at this point.

Allura clapped her hands together with an authoritative “All right!” and yep, Shiro was in love. “Enough of this. Let’s get down to business.” She strode further into the room and consequently closer to Shiro. “On one condition,” she said, tapping Shiro’s chest.

“Yeah?”

“You keep that shirt off.”

Well.

Shiro felt his own smirk blooming on his face. He could work with that.

#shallura #shalluraweek2020 #mckinlily writes: VLD fic #can't follow a prompt to save my life but i'm going to try

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #400

“it’s an age-old story: the first will be last, and the last will be kings / the small will be great, and the great will be weak”

Who was the last person you sincerely thanked? My mom; I thank her every time she cooks for me/us, and I really do mean it. What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed as a guest at someone’s house? Somewhere around a month. What was the last thing to really surprise you? My brother has a fiancee and is having another son! :') Have you ever found out that you have been sleep walking? No. Have you ever tried making something from one of those short cooking videos? How did it turn out? No. Have you ever written a review for a product you bought online? No. What was the last thing you had the urge to do? Idk about anything notable. Is there anyone you feel that takes you for granted? No. What is the last thing you had a craving for? A donut. Do you ever read the comments on social media posts? Sometimes. What was the last thing you felt like you wasted money on? It's so rare that I buy things with my own cash that I really don't know. What was the last thing you wanted to buy, but couldn’t afford? Venus' terrarium on my own. Mom has to help me with buying it. What is a recipe you’d like to try to make for yourself? I don’t cook, so. What goes through your mind when you look back at old photographs of yourself? More than anything, I get sad over how much weight I've gained. I was so healthy once upon a time. It also just makes me miss my childhood. What was the subject matter of the last email you sent? I believe it was about setting up an appointment with my therapist. How do you get your news? Facebook articles, really. What do you think about lizards? I love them! I was that kid that always tried to catch them when I saw 'em. Now I just observe because I don't want to terrify them by trying to pick them up. Have you ever done consumer testing (testing products before they come out on the market)? If not, would you ever want to? No, but sure, I'd do it. Have you ever received anesthesia or morphine? Both. The time I received morphine, it did jack-all for me. If you had to choose which video game to be in, which would it be? Hmmm... I would say Azeroth from World of Warcraft, but too much shit goes down, ha ha. Perhaps the top of the temple in Shadow of the Colossus? So long as I could have someone I love with me, I'd be in Heaven. Although... I doubt there's WiFi there, so I might drop that answer, lmfao. I really don't know. Between the two, would you rather live in a place where it’s only night or where it’s only day? Day. I need the natural light of day sometimes, and if I wanted to sleep, I could just find shade. If you had to be an actor/actress in a movie, what genre of the movie would you be best at? Fantasy. Out of fire, earth, water, wind, light, and dark, which element appeals the most to you? Dark. What’s one thing that you wish was real? Friendly dragons, haha. Is there anything (show, comedian, etc.) that you constantly quote or make references to? No. What’s your favorite Disney Channel movie? I have absolutely no idea. I don't even remember almost any of them. What’s your favorite holiday? Christmas. Do you ever have to do yard work? No. Do you have any live versions of songs in your music software? Yes. Did/do you listen to Britney Spears songs? Yeah, sometimes. I genuinely don't mind her. Do you still make Christmas lists? Yeah, because I'm asked to. Do you watch the show Dexter? Never seen it. Which musical instrument do you think sounds the prettiest? I'm torn between the violin, harp, and piano. Is your mom or dad the older parent? Mom, by a year. Do you and your parents like any of the same bands/singers? A lot, actually. Is there any food in your bedroom? What? I have these tictacs I keep in my purse in case of a dry mouth. Medication makes me have that severely, and my psychiatrist recommended me to always have a hard candy available to suck on since it forces salivation. Do you know anyone who has road rage? Who? My younger sister, badly. How far away do your grandparents live from you? They're all dead, but they lived in far away states. Do you know anyone who wants to be the president one day? No. What kinds of chips are in the cupboards? None. It's a bad idea to keep chips in this house, haha. Do you have your mom's or dad's hair? Well, I was born with dirty blonde hair like my dad, but my hair is thick and more similar in color now to my mom's before the cancer completely drained the color. If you were going out with your celebrity crush, what would you wear? OH MY GOD LA;KSDJFAKLWJE I DON'T KNOW I LOOK AWFUL IN EVERYTHING. Have you ever cried when a teacher retired? Teared up, yes, multiple times. Do you swear and yell while playing video games? I might swear under my breath, but that's the extent of it. If you were adopted, would you want to know? At this point in my life, I don't really know. I kinda find myself leaning towards no. Has a best friend ever ditched you for a girlfriend/boyfriend? Pretty much. Do your pets chase after bugs? Roman sure does. When’s the last time you were so excited you couldn’t sleep? Why? I want to say that was the night before I was getting my tattoo redone. Do you own any flip-flops? Yeah, considering they're like... all I wear, ever. Did you ever really believe that the stork brought babies? I don't believe so, no. Have you ever had a dream about sleeping with a celebrity? (You don’t have to give details.) It was the only lucid dream I've ever had and I'm not complaining about it lmao. Have you ever had a dream that upset you or made you cry? Oh I'm sure. Has anyone ever told you that they needed you? Do you think they meant it? Not to my recollection, no, and I don't believe you should ever adopt that mentality and say that to someone. Do you own a laser? No. Is there anything you like to put on a sandwich, that some might find odd? Nah. I do enjoy a layer of potato chips on some sandwiches, like ham and cheese, but I know that's like an actual thing some people just like. What colour are the shoes you wear most often? They're black flip-flops. When was the last time you were required to put on a mask? In the morning when I go to the TMS office. And what colour was the last mask you wore? It's one of those normal blue and white medical ones. The last time you were in a queue, what were you waiting for? To see the woman who would give me my APAP mask. Have you had your Covid vaccine yet? Which one, if you have? Yes, Moderna. If you've had your vaccine, did you experience any side effects? None for the first shot, but my second shot bruised badly and I felt seriously shitty the following day. I was perfectly fine afterwards, though. Can any of your friends sing well? Which one has the nicest singing voice? Sara has an AMAAAAAAAAAAAZING voice. When was the last time you wore make-up, if ever? What shades/colours? I don't even remember, but I'm sure it would've been black. What is something that seems popular, but doesn't interest you personally? Fashion, various TV shows, etc... Are you clumsy or graceful? I am STUPID clumsy. Like it's just ridiculous. Do you like gloves? I like fingerless gloves. Does your sibling(s) have braces? My older sister did as a kid. Do you ever say "OMG" in person? No; it's a random pet peeve of mine, "Internet talk" irl. What was the last thing your parents got mad at you for? Dad, no idea. Mom, uhhhh. Not "mad," but "annoyed" probably better fits how she felt about me leaving the heating pad I use for my cramps on the floor. Do your pets have favorites? I'm definitely Roman's favorite seeing as he is my literal shadow, and I'd assume Venus trusts me more than anyone else, but realistically, she's in contact with almost no one else, so. Who was your first boyfriend/girlfriend? Why did you break up? The first guy to have the title of "boyfriend" was Aaron, and I broke up with him 'cuz I just wasn't as romantically into him as I thought I might be. It was puppy-dog love, and I feel I knew that. My first *real* boyfriend was Jason, who broke up with me because my mental illnesses began to affect his wellbeing. Which I now accept is fine, but he seriously coulda gone about things differently... When was the last time you got a new bed? Is your bed comfy? Late into my teenage years; idk the exact age and don't feel like doing the math. Teddy kept peeing on the bed to where it was just unrecoverable and needed to be thrown away. My current bed is comfy enough. What kind of games did you play on the playground when you were younger? My absolute favorite was digging tunnels in the sandbox, pretending to be a meerkat. The only trend I ever created, haha, seeing as my classmates got into it with me, allowing us to make huge tunnel systems. It was really cool. I also liked playing 4 Square (which I now don't even remember the details of) on the basketball court. Do you remember the first time you ever drove a car? Who were you with? Yeah, my driver's ed instructor and the guy who was on the same route as me. What’s your favorite thing to do when drunk? Would you do this sober? N/A Are you a fan of dogs? Do you have any as pets? I'm picky with dogs. I like interacting with any dog, but I don't plan on ever owning another. I don't like how hyper they can be, and I prefer more independent pets, like cats. Basically, I'll be hyped to meet a random dog on the street and give it some loving, but I don't want to take it home to be my own. Are you an elitist (even a little bit) when it comes to anything? What? No. I cannot stand elitists. Is just being fond of something enough, or does it take more than that to be a ‘real fan’? And I hate gatekeeping in fandoms even more. There are varying intensities of "being a fan," but regardless, if you like something, congratulations, you're a valid, "real" fan. What type of fabric is most comfortable for clothing? I don't pay attention to this, honestly. If you wear one – bras with or without a wire? I'll wear either, but without is way more comfortable. If you wear one – are you able to find cute bras in your size? God no. What length do you like your shorts to be? I don’t wear shorts. What was the last disappointing movie you saw? Warcraft, but not because it was bad. I've talked before how in the theater, the orcs' voices were just so fucking baritone that I couldn't understand almost ANYTHING they said. Kinda ruined the experience for me. What was the last disappointing book you read? Don't recall. Do you ever watch compilation videos? Of what? Very rarely. If I do, they're mostly of animals being silly. Favorite Disney character who isn’t royalty? Probably Dory, but idk. There's WAY too many options to fish through.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''this is the kingdom'' by skillet

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