#i think maybe it is the same emotion of sitting by a fire with marshmallows and family

[sparxymcfly]

okay but in how one of my absolute favorite moments in the trilogy is in part three when Marty says “Great scott!” and Doc says “yes, this heavy, isn’t it?” and that lovely aspect of friendship where you pick up on each other’s habits? And the idea that one day Jules and Verne are going to say their first “great scott!” because of course they will, and how Marty already has so many little tics from his dad that they made visual gags with it in the first film and how I guarantee he’s picked some up from Doc. How Doc runs around a lot when he’s thinking and planning and Marty just trails after him because running around and just being next to each other is how they roll. How Doc and Marty have an entire thing around physical contact- Doc grabbing Marty all the time and Marty grabbing Doc’s arm or just tapping him and it’s all just so full of trust and comfort. 

The idea of Doc picking up on Marty’s tics and continuing to describe things as heavy or seeing signs of Marty in his surroundings, in the musicians that perform at festivals and in the kids around town continuing it even into that section of time where he’s stuck in 1885 still working on the time machine, and it’s just that little extra reminder of someone he’s working to get back to. How Marty even when he’s feeling the full effects of his trauma might sit in science class and think about Doc, how random facts Doc taught him might come up and remind him. How Clara might point out Doc’s little learned habits to him the same way she prodded about time travel when it was bothering him, how they could talk about that and how the story sharing this could have led to might’ve extended to both jules and verne attending to listen to their dad talk about his best friend. how that could’ve extended to that ever so popular and ever so cute headcanon of how verne takes so much after marty, and how I’ll bet even jules commits some of the stories to memory and takes part in being silly. how once they’re all together again in 1985 or 1986 or wherever and whenever they are and they continue to build on this shared knowledge and presence of touch and memory and habit.

listen I am simply. i’m feeling a lot of things tonight. thanks. love is good and soft. thanks for coming.

[wasithard]

Percy wakes up on his seventeenth birthday in his own bed.

One year ago today, he’d woken up in a room at the Plaza Hotel from a vision of the Titan Lord Kronos planning his attack on Manhattan. One year ago today, he’d woken up in the middle of a war – and that’s not even the most recent war he’s fought.

Percy wakes up on his seventeenth birthday and immediately goes back to sleep.

**

His day goes like this: waking again to blue pancakes and waffles and eating them with his mom and Paul. Having a picnic lunch with Annabeth and Grover in Central Park, then driving with them to camp for dinner and a bonfire with their friends. Roasting marshmallows and singing songs and kissing Annabeth by the fire. Getting too lost in the way the firelight tinges her grey eyes red to notice the rest of the campers gathering around them before they pick them up and throw them in the lake, just like last year. Sitting around the dying embers of the fire, remembering the friends they lost in the war that ended one year ago today, the heavy silence of that moment burying itself in the middle of his chest, sitting there like a weight. Going to bed in his cabin, Tyson snoring in the bunk above him, wishing the love he’d felt from his friends that day would be enough to silence the voices in his head yelling it should’ve been me.

**

Percy wakes up on his nineteenth birthday, three years after the war.

He wakes up and wonders if he’ll ever stop thinking of it as the anniversary of the war instead of a celebration for another year he’s lived, or another year he’s spent with Annabeth.

Annabeth, who’s living on campus in the city they almost gave their lives defending three years ago now and comes over for breakfast that morning with Sally and Paul. He’s sitting at the table with them all, laughing and grateful to have them, but wondering if he should be worried that it’s been three years and he still wakes up on August 18th with a tightness in his chest at the thought of getting another year older than his friends who will never see another day. He knows they’re in Elysium. The thought should bring him peace.

Breakfast trickles into the afternoon and he and Annabeth go for a walk in Central Park before driving up to Camp. On the way there, Percy takes a detour to a small beach he’d scouted out a few weeks before and surprises his girlfriend with a picnic on the sand. He helps her build a sandcastle that’s almost taller than he is, holding the waves back so that they can use the hard, wet sand near the shoreline to make their castle stronger.

By the time they get to Camp they both smell of salt and seaweed and his spirits are high. It makes it worse, somehow, when they have their annual memorial to those they lost three years ago that he’s had such a nice day so far. Annabeth notices his change in mood, presses a kiss to his shoulder as she entwines their fingers.

After the campers start to trickle off to bed, Chiron catches his eye and Percy follows him to the Big House. They are sitting on the balcony, crickets chirping around them and a glass of cool blue Coke in Percy’s hand when Chiron fixes him with a stare that has seen countless tragedies and asks him if he still blames himself for being alive.

It’s jarring to hear someone so bluntly say out loud the thoughts he hasn’t dared to speak for so long. He swallows, can’t bring himself to hold Chiron’s gaze so flicks his eyes down to his feet instead, the only part of his body that doesn’t feel like it’s shaking. His fingers clench around the clear glass in his hand and he watches beads of water slide down the outside of it. Chiron doesn’t speak, but the silence is heavy and Percy feels like it’ll suffocate him if he doesn’t break it.

“I don’t– ” he clears his throat. It sounds too thick. “I don’t blame myself.”

He takes a sip of his Coke, swallowing it completely. “I don’t blame myself. I just don’t understand…”

He doesn’t want to finish the sentence, doesn’t want to say the words, I don’t understand why it wasn’t me, but when his eyes meet Chiron’s again he knows the centaur understands. How many other heroes has he seen feel the same way? Does he feel the same way?

“Percy,” Chiron says, his voice steady and deep with thousands of years of wisdom and loss and hope. “You help no one by holding on to guilt that isn’t yours.”

Percy exhales roughly, running a hand through his hair. In his head, he understands this. He just doesn’t believe it. If he had been a little bit better, in any sense of the word: faster, stronger, smarter. Maybe Charles wouldn’t have gotten caught in the engine room of the Princess Andromeda. Maybe Michael wouldn’t have been caught in the earthquake Percy had caused on the Williamsburg Bridge. Maybe Clarisse could have been convinced to fight in the war earlier, so Silena wouldn’t have had to impersonate her.

“Percy.” Chiron repeats, voice firmer. “You might be a hero, but you are also a person. And all a person can ever do is their best.”

Percy closes his eyes, bows his head. Chiron continues speaking. “The gods have done wonderful things, but they have also made many, many mistakes. More and far more devastating mistakes than the ones you have made in your short life. The benefit and curse of immortality is seeing how the actions of a moment can fade over time. How they can be made up for when a similar situation arises in the future. How it is not one’s past that defines them, but how they learn from it.”

Percy doesn’t want to look up at Chiron now, because there are tears in his eyes and it’s embarrassing, frankly. But he owes it to him.

He looks up. Chiron’s gaze is as steady as before, and Percy exhales one more time, releasing air all the way down to his belly. One tear slips down the side of his face and stops at his upper lip. He licks it away, using a hand to wipe his eyes as he turns his face to the now quiet camp. He can see the volleyball court, the rock climbing wall, the smoking embers of the campfire and the beginning of the circle of cabins. He sees his home: safe, intact. Filled with his friends, the survivors. He breathes it in.

“Thanks, Chiron.” He says, turning back to the centaur who gives him a soft, understanding smile in return.

Percy finishes off his drink and leaves the empty glass on the same wooden table he saw Chiron and Dionysus playing pinochle at when he first arrived at Camp, all those years ago. He stands up, wishes Chiron goodnight and starts walking back to the cabins.

Cabin 3 stands there: dark, alone and familiar. He feels tiredness tug at his eyelids and muscles but inside he still feels too wired to lay down just yet. He heads for the beach.

Annabeth is already there. Her legs are bent in front of her, arms tucked underneath them and chin resting on her knees. He sits silently beside her and they stay there, no sound between them except the gentle crash of the waves on the shore. After a few minutes she leans her head against his shoulder and he rests his atop hers, closes his eyes.

“Do you remember when we were in the Sea of Monsters and I wanted to hear the Sirens?” Annabeth asks, voice quiet. “I would’ve killed myself on those rocks swimming to their island but you dove into the ocean and pulled me out of their range, even though I was kicking and screaming at you to stop. We were thirteen.

“And remember in Mount St. Helen’s? I know you didn’t have a plan, but you made me get out anyway. You made sure that I was safe before even thinking about how you would survive.”

He feels her weight leave his shoulder then, glances over to see her sitting up and turning towards him, crossing her legs under her. The light of the full moon washes her in an ethereal glow, and her eyes are gleaming wide and bright as they lock onto his, pinning him in place. Annabeth is always beautiful, but when she’s determined – whether in battle or in convincing her boyfriend that he doesn’t deserve the pain he inflicts on himself – she has a face that could launch a thousand ships.

“And in Rome,” she says, her voice catching. “You wouldn’t let me face Tartarus unless we could face it together. I don’t know how many times you saved my life down there…” Percy sees her eyes begin to well with tears. “When we were fighting the arai…” She closes her eyes as a few tears escape them. Percy reaches forward and wipes a few away with his thumb. She opens her eyes into his again and gives him a small smile.

“My point is,” she continues, her voice thick. “Being a demigod is a high risk life that none of us asked for. An occupational hazard of us just being alive is death by monster attack. This is the first thing we learn when we find out who we are. All the friends we’ve lost over the years…they knew that too.

“And that doesn’t mean that their deaths were ok or justified or that we can forget about them, but I think that shouldering the burden of their deaths is stopping you from remembering the beauty of their lives. And it’s stopping you from remembering all the people who haven’t died because of you. Every single person in this camp owes their life to you, either directly or indirectly. Yes, a lot of people died on this day three years ago, but even more people were saved, and you had more to do with the last thing than the first.”

Percy’s getting teary again, but he doesn’t feel embarrassed this time. Annabeth shuffles closer to him on the sand and grabs both of his hands, squeezing them tightly, bringing them up and pressing her lips against them. “Percy Jackson, you have the purest heart of anyone I have ever met. It’s glaringly obvious to anyone who knows you – except yourself, apparently. I will spend the rest of my life trying to help you see it, but until then you’re just gonna have to trust me.”

Her face changes. It goes from open and pleading to playful, one eyebrow raised and a challenge in her eyes that makes his heart skip a beat, even when the rest of his system is in emotional overwhelm.

“Do you trust me, Percy?” Annabeth asks him.

He lets out a laugh, shaky from tears, and nods, “Yes, Annabeth. I trust you with my life.”

She beams at him, sitting up on her knees to bring her face closer to his, until it’s close enough that he can feel the warmth of her breath as she speaks, her eyes still locked onto his. “Then believe me when I tell you that you deserve forgiveness. And you need to give it to yourself.”

It’s too much. Percy swallows, jaw clenched and glances down. Annabeth releases one of his hands and grabs his chin, not letting him get away that easily.

“You. Deserve. Forgiveness. More than anyone in this world.”

He’s searching her eyes, frantically almost. It feels too easy. There has to be a catch.

“Ok?” Annabeth prompts, her voice still soft but firm, uncompromising.

He opens his mouth to speak but any words get caught in the knot at the base of his throat. Tears are leaking down his face and he can’t. He can’t. It can’t be that easy. It shouldn’t be.

Annabeth exhales, removing her hand from his chin and instead running it through his hair, stopping at the back of his head and bringing it forward until their foreheads touch. She doesn’t say anything else, just sits there with him.

With him, while he closes his eyes and thinks about the Minotaur choking his mom when he was twelve. Thinks about imaging Tyson drowning in the Sea of Monsters when he was thirteen. Thinks about losing Bianca di Angelo and Zoe Nightshade later that same year. He thinks about the campers that fell in the Battle of the Labyrinth whose names he didn’t know, and the campers that fell in the Battle of Manhattan whose names he made sure he did. He thinks of a Titan and a Giant at the Doors of Death, sacrificing themselves so that he and Annabeth could get to safety.

Percy sits on a beach at nineteen years old and thinks of all the death he’s seen in such a short time, all the death that’s been haunting him for years.

A cool breeze passes by him, coming from the water. As it brushes his skin, he comes back to the warmth of his best friend’s forehead pressed against his, her hands: one clutching his, the other tangled in his hair. He feels her soft exhale of breath and thinks about how she is alive, here, with him. Against all odds. He thinks of the campers asleep in the cabins just metres away: alive, here, with him. He thinks of his mom and Paul and Rachel, his friends from Camp Jupiter, all the people he cares about who are alive, here, with him. He thinks about the fact that they outnumber the dead, and realises he’s never really thought about that before.

Percy lifts his head and looks at Annabeth. She cups one side of his face with her hand, eyes still trained on his intently.

“I love you.” He says. “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

Her smile is small and bittersweet, her eyes wide grey pools of understanding.

“Me too,” is all she says.

It is enough.

[ushidoux]

Be My Last - Iwaizumi x  Reader (Pt. 5)

Summary: You have trouble getting over a past relationship and it’s preventing you from moving forward. (~1.6 words)

Warnings: angst, mention of kid and implied marriage.

A/N: We’re at the end here! I hope you’re okay with the way this ended, and if not... *shrug* LOLLLL, we can talk about it. Thanks for reading up to now!! <333 See you in my next fic!!

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

-

Iwaizumi returned late that evening to realize that you were nowhere to be found.

It shouldn’t have been this alarming for him to not see you hanging upside down off the edge of the couch watching tv, futzing around in the kitchen, maybe staring out off the small balcony or snuggled up under the covers.

But you were absent, and on top of everything, the sight of a dark home proved to be too much for him to handle. Moreover, the home hadn’t always really been his, had it? It was yours and Ushijima’s far before he’d even come into the picture.

He had just been filling a space, just as he’d promised you.

He checked his phone only to be further defeated by the lack of a text message to let him know you were going out. You always let him know.

Iwaizumi turned on his heels and went back to his car. The roads were clearer now and he needed to drive. He needed to go, somewhere. It didn’t matter where to.

Years pass.

“Hot cocoa, please!”

Your daughter collapsed in your arms as she made this request, having run in your direction from the opposite side of the sitting room. She grinned widely, her brownish-green eyes seeming to sparkle despite the low light of the room. She is truly the happiest child, you thought for a moment, smiling as you mussed her hair affectionately.

“Okay, baby, we can get some,” you agreed, pulling her close for a kiss on the forehead, because how could you say no to that pure joy on her face?

“Did you have fun with your new friends?” You asked, rising.

You’d been watching her for a while now, seated in an overstuffed armchair by a roaring fire, thankful to be insulated from the frigid winter weather (turned out the cold of Eastern Europe was an entirely different type of cold than you were used to). It was a pleasure to see her discharge energy, bouncing around the other little kids at the ski lodge resort you’d been residing at since this past weekend.

She nodded. “That’s why I’m gonna drink it really fast so we can play some more!”

You chuckled, and held her little hand tightly. At least someone was having fun.

You on the other hand had decided you hated skiing with a passion six hours into the vacation after spilling spectacularly more than enough times on one of the beginner slopes. Not wanting to ruin your husband’s fun, you’d convinced him to let you stay behind with your four-year-old so that she could socialize, you could have a break, and he could try one of the more exciting slopes. 

Everyone won.

Well, sorta. He’d pouted as he set out on his own, and now you felt a little bad. Maybe you’d try again the next morning for him after you left your little one at a kids’ event.

“Is Daddy coming back soon?” 

Your little princess’ legs swung excitedly as she sipped her hot cocoa with far too many marshmallows, just after you’d blown at it a little to make sure she didn’t burn herself.

“Daddy will join us soon,” you assured her, your own hands warm with a cup of tea.

---

“I’m sorry.”

Before you is a glass of water with too much lemon. You’re seated at a diner, the very diner where you’d first confessed your feelings for him, and he’s speaking to you but you barely hear him - all you hear is the rushing of blood in your temples. 

Why now? What do you do with sorry after all this time?

Wakatoshi sees your expression and cracks a weary smile. 

“I shouldn’t say that, should I? It’s too little, too late.”

He’s right but you don’t answer.

It’s weird to see him after all these years, seated just across from you as though you were on a date as usual. You can imagine a heaping stack of pancakes between you, covered in too much fruit and too much syrup and him chastising you before you force a berry into his mouth. You can imagine laughter. You can imagine gentle touches, kisses, hugs. You can imagine the words ‘I love you.’

Is that what he’s sorry for?

“To-... Wakatoshi, why did you message me?” You don’t mean to sound curt, but if you speak longer you feel as though your voice will give out.

He winces almost imperceptibly at the use of his full name. But he’s always been steadier than you, emotion-wise. At least you think so.

“I wish it had been different.”

“So do I,” you say, quickly before thinking. But you don’t really, do you? 

There’s a man who loves you, possibly more than he loves himself, than he loves anything in the world. And if it weren’t for this, for Ushijima ‘releasing’ you, no matter how harshly, you wouldn’t have had the experience to be loved by him.

“I was wrong.”

He was. He was absolutely wrong. But what’s wrong and what’s right no longer matters. What matters is what is.

He pauses and sighs. You can see his hands now grip the end of the table as though to keep steady. 

“Thank you for coming.”

There is another pause, one that is suddenly too great for you to handle, where you want to sigh but instead you draw in a double breath.

You’re embarrassed because you do not intend to cry. Not after all this. Not in front of him. 

“You didn’t love me enough to compromise,” you end up sputtering out.

Your tears aren’t falling yet but your eyes swim and you blink them back furiously. “Why all this? Why now?”

He blinks once and you can see his fingers tighten around the edge of the booth, knuckles white.

“I was stupid then. I’m different now.”

The fact that his eyes are so sincere makes your heart wrench. You know that he doesn’t lie, he’s never felt a need to.

It’s a response that infuriates you but your anger is cool rather than hot and it’s diffuse, deafening and directionless. There’s no one to be mad at except the very fabric of time.

What do I do with this? What can I do?

Your heart settles, and you measure your next words carefully. 

---

“Daddy!”

Your daughter’s eyes widened immediately as she saw him approach behind you, and in mere seconds, she jumped out of her chair to embrace her father, nearly knocking over her hot cocoa in the process. You managed to salvage it to your credit, and you turned in your chair to flash a teasing grin.

“How were the slopes?”

---

“There was once a time where I would have followed you anywhere if you asked me to. Maybe it was unhealthy, maybe it was naïve, but I truly loved you to that extent. I would have left everything behind if you asked.”

The solemn look he sports on his face, so stoic as a defense mechanism that it seems almost caricature-like, only confirms that he knew. He knew that every word you said was true, and yet... 

“I thought it was the best decision at the time. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Maybe he was right. That sort of reckless love, especially when not reciprocated in earnest could only result in pain. 

His intentions were good. They were good. That’s what matters.

He had a reason.

----

Hajime frowned at you, which in turn made his little princess, now perched on his hip frown as well. 

“Your mother’s not being very nice, now is she?” He murmured, as he approached, now settling her back in the chair across from you. “She didn’t even want to ski with me!”

His arms crossed over his chest as he stood beside you now, a pretend-grumpy look on his face.

Your four year-old gasped. “What?! Mommy’s mean? Are you a bully?”

“Hey!” You nudged Iwa in the ribs. “Don’t make me out to be the bad guy! I’m coming with you tomorrow!”

To this, your husband’s eyes lit up, and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, resting his chin on your head.

“You’d do that for me, my clumsy little penguin?” He whispered, just low enough that your little girl, who had now contented herself back to drinking her hot cocoa couldn’t hear.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“If you keep making fun of me, you’ll be on your own again, and possibly so for the rest of this vacation,” you grumbled back, but he laughed in earnest to your threat, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek before dragging the nearest chair towards your table to complete your circle.

“So what do my favorite girls want for dinner?”

---

When Ushijima’s hands finally relax, and he places them clasped together on the table, you find yourself reaching for them. It’s no longer a natural, intrinsic movement of the arm and hand, the way it was years ago when you always yearned for physical contact. It’s now measured and intentional.

You squeeze his hands and they feel different. They’re larger, colder, rougher than Iwa’s are. It’s not a bad thing; just not the same. You can imagine that intertwining your fingers with his would feel imperfect, maybe even wrong.

You’ve changed. And he’s changed.

“Wakatoshi…”

You pause, and your hands linger. 

It’s hard to look in his eyes when you say this, but you do anyway. Their eyes are almost the same color, but Iwa’s are greener. An old idiom comes to mind and you banish it from your mind.

“You will always be my first love, but Hajime will be my last one.”

[tinysidestrashcaptain]

It's Only Logical - Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Confrontations and Justice

First Chapter Previous Chapter

Pairings: Logicality/Prinxiety

Warnings: TW for Jason Bryce, Violence, and swearing!

His flowers, he thought. Plants that he’d raised from seeds, bulbs, babied along their whole lives, now lying ruined on the ground. Twisted, trampled and ripped. Innocent, and he took a silent moment to grieve before racing around the corner of the building.

He skidded to a stop as he saw Jason Bryce swing a baseball bat, shattering a window. “You son of a bitch!”

He saw the surprise on Jason’s face as he whirled around, followed by rage. “Heard you were busy today. Figured I’d be done and gone before you showed up.”

“Well, you figured wrong.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He swung the bat again, shattering another window in a hail of jagged glass. “You think you can get away from me? Humiliate me, sick the police on me?” Another crash, another window gone. “Someone needs to put you in your place.”

“You humiliated yourself, and if you don’t put that down and get the hell off my property, I’m going to do a lot more than sick the cops on you.” Logan raised his chin, clenching his fists at his sides.

“Is that so? Just you and me now, isn’t it?” Jason slapped the bat against his palm, glaring at him. “Do you have any idea what you cost me?”

“I have a general idea, and it’s going to be a lot more soon. Trespassing, destruction of property.”

Jason didn’t use the bat on him, but he could see the look in his eyes when he considered it before tossing it away. He lashed out, slapping Logan across the cheek with that familiar, brutal force that snapped his head to the side.

Logan felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest as he faced Jason down, ignoring the throbbing of his face. “That the best you’ve got? Seems like your dick isn’t the only thing that’s soft anymore.”

“You mouthy little bitch!” Jason snarled, throwing himself at Logan. “That fucking nobody ruined you, that stupid clod with his little brat! You’re mine, you’ll always be mine!”

Logan caught Jason and used his own momentum to throw him against the wall, lashing out with his fists, which clearly caught Jason by surprise. “I don’t belong to anybody but myself, you arrogant piece of shit!”

Jason grunted as he took the lighter blows before pinning Logan’s arms down and tossing him to the ground. He was bigger, and stronger, and he used his own body to force Logan down in the dirt. “Maybe you just need to be reminded. Isn’t that right, pet?” He gripped the back of Logan’s neck in a familiar hold that had his stomach churning with fear and disgust.

“Get your goddamn hands off of me!” Logan snapped, kicking up and out until he connected hard enough to make Jason wheeze and loosen his grip.

He heard shouts and running feet, and Logan scrambled away to slowly stand on rubbery legs as Virgil tore around the corner two steps ahead of Patton.

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” Logan said calmly, although his head was spinning like a carousel. “This bastard might need medical attention, though.”

“Fuck him!” Virgil snarled, reaching out to Logan. His hands feathered over Logan’s face as he checked for injury, scowling. “He HIT you? Jesus fucking Christ, he hit you?!”

“I got him worse, believe me. And we’re going to press all sorts of charges.” Logan gave a wan smile and patted Virgil’s shoulder as he slowly took stock of himself. He scowled as he spotted the tear on the knee of his pants. “Goddammit! I got this suit especially for today. All sorts of charges.”

“The police are on their way. Barbara called on her cell on her way back to Roman’s to get us.” Patton’s voice shook, and Logan could tell from the look on his face it was a combination of fear and rage.

“Good. That’s good.” Logan sagged a bit, the adrenaline draining out of him. “Virgil, can you do me a favor? Bring this piece of shit around front. I don’t want to see him any longer or I might grab that bat and do something that’ll land me in jail.”

“Let me stand him up first.” Patton reached down and hauled Jason up on his feet with one hand. He turned and looked at Logan, all steely blue eyes. “Sorry.” And plowed his fist into Jason’s face, sending him sprawling to the ground again.

“I don’t mind a bit.” Logan could feel a wide grin spreading across his face as his knees wobbled dangerously. “Not one damn bit.”

Virgil hauled Jason up by the back of his collar and started marching him away, grinning meanly as he kicked the bastard’s feet out from under him as they walked. “Oops, you’ve got to watch where you’re going, Brycey.” He looked back at Logan with a grin. “You sure kicked ass today, Lo.”

“Thanks. And if he so much as twitches wrong, you go ahead and hit him as hard as you want. No complaints from me.” Logan gave a tremulous smile as he leaned against the wall of the shop building. “But I think all this ass kicking has left me out of sorts, so if you don’t mind, I’ll sit right here and catch my breath?”

“Here.” Patton took off his suit jacket and laid it on the ground. “No need to mess up your suit any more than it already is.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Logan sank gratefully down, leaning against Patton to take in the warmth and support he offered. He sat quietly until his heart rate slowed to normal, until the tangle of nerves, rage and disgust in his belly had eased a bit. Broken glass glittered in the sunlight, scattered on the ground around them. Glass could be replaced, he reminded himself. He’d mourn his flowers, but he’d save some of the wounded, and he’d grow more. An abundance of more.

“How’s your hand?” he asked Patton.

“Fine. Good.” Patton all but spat it out. “He’s got a chin like a marshmallow.”

“Big strong man.” Logan turned to wrap his arms around him, and didn’t mention Patton’s raw scraped knuckles. Patton gently helped him to his feet, and he leaned in close, refusing to let him go just yet.

“He must have been crazy to think he could get away with this,” Patton muttered, glaring in the direction Virgil had dragged Jason off to.

“A little, I guess. I imagine he planned to be done wrecking my place before the wedding was over. He’d figure we’d blame it on kids -- or the police would. And all I’d have was a mess on my hands. A man like that has no respect for others. He doesn’t believe anyone can best him.” Logan replied softly, resting his head on Patton’s shoulder.

“One did.” Patton shot him a look, clearly indicating he wasn’t referring to himself. Logan rubbed his arms, then clutched gratefully at the lapels of Patton's jacket as he picked it up and draped it over his shoulders, wrapping an arm around him. Logan burrowed into his warmth, unsure if his bones would ever be warm again.

“I can hardly believe this happened. If you hadn’t come when you had--” Logan cut himself off, refusing to entertain that line of thinking.

“We could hear you shouting.” Patton said quietly. “You cost Virgil and I several years off our lives. So I’m going to say this once.”

He turned, taking the lapels of his jacket into his hands and holding Logan steady so he was facing him. “And you are damn well going to hear it. I respect and admire your steely will, Logan, and appreciate your temper and capability. But the next time you so much as think about taking on some lunatic with a bat all on your own, I’m going to be doing some ass kicking. And it’s going to be your ass with the bullseye painted on it.”

Logan angled his head, studied his face, and saw he meant every word he’d said. Son of a gun. “You know, if I hadn’t already decided on this thing I’m about to ask you, that would have done it. How can I resist a man who lets me fight my own battles, then when the time is right steps in and cleans house? After the dust is clear, he gives me a good piece of his mind for being an idiot. Which I was, no question, no argument.”

“Glad to hear we’re agreed on that.” Patton replied dryly.

Logan took a step closer, and wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling his boyfriend closer. “I really love you.”

“I really love you back.”

“Then you won’t mind marrying me.” Logan felt his body jerk, just a little, just once, then settle in against his own, warm and true.

“I don’t see a problem with that. Are you sure?” Patton murmured, gently sliding his hands around Logan’s waist, holding him close.

“If you had asked me that a few months ago, I’d say no, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I’m a logical person, a person who thinks things through, and then over-thinks them, and then thinks about them some more, and some more still – and yet I don’t know that I can define love. Yet the cliche about love, of course, is that you’ll know it when you’re in it, right?” Logan asked, looking up at him. Patton lifted a hand to gently cup his face, smiling softly at him. “I used to think it happened explosively. That love was something astronomically powerful that not only swept you off your feet, but knocked you down on your ass and soaked through your skin and became an overarching force that was impossible to ignore. But, what if that’s not it? What if love is quiet and soft? What if love is gradual and delicate? What if love isn’t an explosion, but is instead this calm feeling you get when you wake up one golden Sunday morning and realize that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than next to this person whose quirks make you laugh until you can’t breathe? Lately, I think I’ve stopped trying to define it and have started to believe that being in love is about more than just explosive emotion. And yet, it’s also about more than just finding someone to coexist with in the same space at the same time. Love is about finding someone who lights even the tiniest parts of your soul on fire. It’s about finding someone who makes you more you, who will even surprise you every now and then by knowing you better than you know yourself.” Logan leaned into Patton’s touch, feeling his heart leap even now.

“Am I that person to you, Lo?” Patton’s voice was thick with emotion, his blue eyes shimmering with tears.

“I believe I have found that person in you, and no one else will suffice.” Logan’s hands fisted in his boyfriend’s hair, his face intense. He didn’t talk about emotions, didn’t do this very often, so he wanted to take the opportunity to pour out all the words he’d probably never say again while he still could. “I want a safe place to rest my lips, and a soft place to land. I want someone who will keep me in his heart because that’s where I’ll be warm and safe. I want someone who will look at me when I’m at my messiest and kiss me on the forehead, someone who thinks I’m lovely in the morning, and at night, and during all the in between times. Someone who knows how much I like to be whispered to and who isn’t scared off when I’m crying, rare though that may be. Someone who can sense when I’m overwhelmed, who just knows when life is too much and who will, in those moments, stand close enough to me to block everything else out. Most importantly, I want someone who will stand beside me and face my battles with me, rather than standing in front of me. I want you, for the rest of our lives. I want Thomas and Parker and messy pizza nights and and everything that goes--”

Patton cut him off with a fierce kiss, swallowing whatever words Logan may have said. Logan made a soft sighing sound and melted into him, happily yielding in that moment. He leaned on him, knew without a doubt that he could lean on him--and trust him to step back when he needed to stand on his own.

Everything inside of Logan calmed, even when they broke the kiss and he snuggled against Patton’s chest, looking out at the destruction of what was his. He would fix it, save what could be saved and accept what couldn’t. He would live his life, plant his gardens, and walking hand-in-hand with the man he loved, he would watch both bloom. It wasn’t how he’d planned to do this, not by a long shot, but it was still the happiest moment of his life. “Do you think Thomas will be okay with it?”

“Are you kidding? He’d been pestering me for weeks now, asking when I was going to marry you and when we’d get to come live with you forever. Pretty sure he’d already decided you’re his stepfather.” Patton grinned, rolling his eyes fondly at the thought of his energetic son. “Now come on, slugger. I think we’ve got a police statement to give.”

“Mmm. But let’s hold off on announcing our engagement for a few days. I want Roman and Virgil to have their moment. Even if Jason put a dark cloud on it.”

“Are you serious? Virgil got to see him get his ass kicked. He’ll probably thank you for the wedding present.”

Logan threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing in the sunlit air around them. No matter what else came next, he knew he had faced his demons and won. And he would never have to face it alone.

A/N: And that's it! We're done! Welcome to the end of It's Only Logical. I cannot believe I started this fic in 2017. Or that I finished it. I'll probably do some one shots or drabbles from this universe, little stories and bits of things that couldn't fit into the main fic, but the bulk of it is here. And all done at last! Apologies again to my former tag list. I lost it, and I feel terrible that for the end I couldn't tag you all. This chapter won't be any different on Ao3 or Wattpad. For those who weren't aware, Ao3 has the Explicit version of this fic, and Wattpad has this non-explicit version, possibly in an easier format. I've linked both, so if you feel like going back and re-reading all over again, you can. I love you all so, SO much and I appreciate all the support and patience you have given me. <3 Also? Roman stayed behind to keep the wedding guests calm, but he's going to be overjoyed when he hears what happened. And I like to think Virgil finally got to punch Jason Bryce right in his stupid, stupid face.

[thiswasinevitableid]

for the meet uglies, 55 indruck sfw? sorry apollo

Here you go! For those wondering, Apollo originates in my Amnesty Super Hero AU

“Okay sir, I’m gonna say this as nice as I can.”

Indrid looks up from his drawing of some mushrooms. The ranger, a man about his age whose little bronze name tag reads “D. Newton”, has the look of someone choosing his words very, very carefully.

“You are this close to me writin you up. And I mean this. Close.” He puts his thumb against his finger.

“I, is this not allowed?” The log he’s sitting on is technically on the trail, just next to it.

“This ain’t the problem. It’s everythin you done since this morning that’s the problem.”

“I-”

“First there was leavin your breakfast trash on the picnic table by the visitor center so chipmunks got into it--it’s real bad for them y’know, makes ‘em too bold--then there was the selfies on off-limits spots, then you had the fu, uh, freakin nerve to be rude to Juno when she asked you to stay in safe areas, you littered left and right, then you left a beer can in the reeds by the plover nestin’ grounds. I don’t even know where to start with that one; you know we don’t allow alcohol in the park. Campgrounds sure, but we don’t want fellas like you gettin drunk and then fallin off a rock. How can you be so careless, or not give a shit for a place people put time into protectin?

The smile that’s been spreading across Indrid’s face since the word “selfie” is wide enough that the ranger spots it.

“Man, if you think this is funny, you won’t when you’re too drunk to swim or run from a bear. Then I’m gonna have to bail your ass out, which I will, and you’re gonna eat a slice of humble pie big as that overinflated ego of yours.”

Indrid snickers. The ranger glares. Slowly, Indrid pulls back the hood of his sweatshirt and retrieves his glasses from the front of his shirt (he doesn’t wear them when drawing in color due to their red lenses). The other mans expression slides off confusion and tumbles into horror.

“Aw hell, I’m sorry sir. Thought you were your, uh, well, guessin you got a twin runnin around this park.” He pulls the brim of his hat down in a charming attempt to hide his face.

“I do, and this is far from the first time I’ve been scolded in his place. Less so since I dyed my hair” he indicates the artificial silver framing his face, “I’m mostly amused by how accurately you captured his orientation towards the world. It’s also bitterly funny to discover he made someone else's day as unpleasant as he made mine.”

The ranger studies him, seems to notice the creases by his eyes and mouth, “Seem a little old to be gettin forced into family time. Not that you look old. Just, uh, I mean, you might be younger than me, hard to tell with the hair, uh, yeah.”

Indrid points in the direction of the beachside campsites, “The Cold Family Reunion can only be begged off so long.” His phone dings, the reminder that it’s his turn to help his aunt with dinner, “speaking of which, I should pack up.” He quickly gathers his supplies, sends the other man a final smile, “thank you for the laugh, Ranger Newton.”

“You’re uh, you’re welcome. And tell your twin to throw his damn trash away.” He smiles as he says this, suggesting a joke, but Indrid resolves to remind Apollo of his manners anyway.

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

The fog caresses the coastline, hiding the dawn entirely. Indrid pulls his hood up against the chill, the wooden bench and viewing deck damp from the weather. He’s not going back to camp until he’s captured the sight before him; dozens of fishing boats on the dark water, their lights beautiful and soft against the grey world.

Sandy gravel crunches to his right, and then Ranger Newton appears. He keeps glancing at Indrid as he writes something indecipherable on a clipboard.

“I’m the nice one.” Indrid says in response to the quick, searching, looks.

“Thank fuck.” He turns so they’re actually looking at each other, “guess we’re both on the early shift.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but the cold and quiet is preferable to my twin snoring. I brought my own one person tent, but then my aunt and uncle had their monthly argument and she needed a new place to sleep.”

“That was mighty kind of you.”

Indrid shrugs, “Not really. I just want to get through this reunion with as little conflict as possible.”

“How’d you end up on this thing? Said you couldn’t get out of it but-”

“I just moved to town a month ago. Turns out this is a place my parents have always wanted to visit. Not enough to see me, mind you, or refrain from criticizing my choice of towns, but enough to host the reunion here so I had no escape. And if I want to eat with the family, I have to spend the night in the camp and not at home. And since money is tight after moving, well..."

The ranger whistles, “Damn, that’s rough. But uh, since you live in town you’ll actually get to see this place in nice weather.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He shivers, “though I enjoy the cold when I can be in my nice little apartment. In a tent, not so much.”

“If you get a good sleepin bag or good company, gets a lot better.” The ranger smiles, then looks at his notes, “sorry, that ain’t appropriate talk around a visitor.”

Indrid meets his green eyes, “If you have recommendations for either, I’m all ears.”

A gust of wind carries salt spray all the way to the platform, Indrid shivering as it mists his glasses.

“Here” the ranger holds out his hnd, “I gotta go open the visitor center; nice and warm in there.”

“...Could you possibly come back in ten minutes? I’d like to finish my sketch.”

“Sure, won’t kill me to check on the tide measures while I’m out here.” He tips his hat and soon Indrid sees him winding down a path to the beach. Eleven minutes later he’s back, telling Indrid about a huge starfish he saw.

On the walk to the visitor center, he learns the “D” on his nametag is for “Duck,” that he’s a transplant from West Virginia, and that they’re actually the same age. When Indrid explains that he’s a tattoo artist who sells his drawings on the side.

“You’ll appreciate this, then” Duck bends down to roll up his pant leg. Indrid appreciates the view and the well executed geometric tree tattoo on his ankle.

“Juno and I got ‘em together. Had to go with the ankle because I already got some on my arms. Can’t show those off right now though.”

“My, my, Ranger Newton, you’ll flash a scandalous ankle at a guest but not take him to the gun show?”

Duck laughs, the sound like the mating call of a strange tropical bird; absurd and enchanting.

“Glad you’re in town to stay, Indrid. Think you’re the kind of fella I’d like to get to know.”

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

Maybe he’s being childish. It’s not wrong for Apollo to say he’s making their father proud, that he’s successful, that he’s a golden boy of his field.

It’s just obnoxious for him to do this the one time their extended family expressed Indrid’s professional accomplishments. With that smile, the one Indrid knows for a damn fact he had fixed, that tone, that, that….

That voice sounds familiar.

He reverses course, takes the path he passed by that points towards the amphitheater. What he gets is more a firepit with a small stage, but standing at the center and addressing fascinated families is Duck.

Indrid sits on the rickety bench furthest from the stage, lets Ducks explanations of night blooming plants and the creatures that pollinate them drown out the echoes of family dinner. When the program ends and the parents shepherd their children off with instructions for bedtime and brushing teeth Indrid stays, not ready to leave but not intending to attract Duck’s attention.

He gets it anyway.

“Enjoy the talk?” Duck stays two steps down from him, rests a foot up on the bench, “this one is always real popular; when it gets warm, the little animal rehab place south of town brings education animals in. Y’know, bats and owls, stuff like that.”

“I’ll have to come back to see them.” The thought of seeing bats up close excites him, but he’s too tired to sell the emotion.

Duck frowns, “You okay?”

Indrid shakes his head, tells him about the constant comments, the threat of living forever as the family disappointment, a threat he can deal with until he’s around them all. Then he’s right back to being seventeen and afraid of failing them.

“....Apollo’s always been the golden boy, ruthless and goal focused like our father. He always knows just what to say to get under my skin and dig out the scar tissue,” Indrid sighs, “All I wanted tonight was to roast marshmallows and go to bed early.”

The ranger moved from the steps to the bench beside him as he told his story. Now, Duck looks at him, smile more soothing than the thrum of the distant waves, “I got an idea. Guessin’ you don’t gotta tell your family where you’re goin, right?”

“No, most of them will assume I’m off sulking and Apollo will hope I’ve fallen off a cliff.”

“Then leave ‘em to be their shitty selves and come home with me. Uh, not, not-not like that, fuck, like what you’re thinkin, uh. Fuck. What I mean is; I got a fireplace and some marshmallows. You want in?”

Indrid watches the dying fire flicker of the curves of his face, thinks back on the last week. The ranger has been a frequent companion, brings him hot cocoa from the little cafe and tells him where he’ll be for chunks of the day in case Indrid needs a break from his family. Last night, all Indrid could think about was wanting Duck to be in the tent beside him.

“Absolutely.”

On the drive over, Indrid points out his apartment complex and Duck points out the best places to eat and the cheapest laundromats. His house is tiny, looks like it was built when the town was a logging hub and not a tourist destination.

“Make yourself at home, it’ll take me a sec to get the fire goin’--uhuh, Taco, stop tryin’ to open that cabinet.” He hoists a yowling, blonde ball of fur on the couch. The cat directs a suspicious look Indrid’s way and then settles on top of the pile of blankets.

“You a s’more man?” Duck calls from the kitchen.

“No, thank you. I prefer my sugar in a single bite.”

“You eat marshmallows in one bite? I’m always worried I’ll choke.”

“I have an accommodating mouth.” Indrid smirks when Duck audibly drops the bag. He’s not always the best with social cues, but if the way Duck kept brushing their hands together on the center armrest in his car is any indication, the ranger is trying to pick him up.

Once the fire is going Duck sits on the rug, patting the spot to his left. Indrid joins him. Caramelizing sugar and increasingly sleepy laughter soon fills the air. Neither of them keep their knees from touching, and Duck keeps dropping his head to Indrid’s shoulder when he giggles. The whole scene is so heavenly Indrid isn’t paying attention to their marshmellow consumption. He reaches into the empty bag and makes a disappointed noise.

“Damn, we really went through ‘em.” He catches Indrid’s eye with a playful grin, “you still cravin’ sugar?”

Indrid licks his lips, “Yes.”

Duck cups his cheek, guiding him into a sleepy, close-mouthed kiss, brushing their noses together when he pulls back to murmur, “That do the trick?”

“Hmmmmm?” Indrid cocks his head, “no.”

The other man guffaws as Indrid pulls him down on top of him, kissing him happily and wiggling his hips when Duck digs his fingers into his hair. His own hands migrate under Duck’s shirts, finding his body just as warm and wonderful as he hoped.

He nips Duck’s lower lip. The ranger growls and Indrid is no longer tired.

“Care to see just how accommodating my mouth can be?”

Duck rolls them twice so they’re a safe distance from the fire, “Hell yeah.”

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

Indrid saunters into camp late in the morning, some of the Colds already packing up to depart. His twin is stuck on dish duty, grins like a barracuda when he spots Indrid.

“I don’t know why you’re here. You missed breakfast, and you weren’t in camp last night, so you don’t get lunch or dinner either. May as well skulk back into the shadows.”

“Mmm, yes, I was rather undutiful.” Indrid spots a figure checking campsite permits, who stealthily blows him a kiss, “but at this moment in time, I don’t particularly care.”

[phoenix-downer]

Autumn Mending Chapter 3: Firelight Confessions

~1650 words. Romance, Angst, Pining, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Comfort, Healing, Making Up. For SoKai Day 2021.

Sequel to Kisses and Lies because I couldn’t just leave Sora and Kairi hanging, now could I?

Happy SoKai Day!

Summary: Sora and Kairi are still broken up, but with the help of old friends and Twilight Town’s fall festival, the spark between them just might be rekindled.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Sora felt lightheaded from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside his heart. So much had happened today. Kairi had shown up here on Twilight Town and had apologized for breaking up with him. Was it possible she still loved him? That she still cared? 

The way he kept catching her looking at him sure made it seem like she did. And now this hayride. He didn’t want it to be over. He wanted her to be snuggled up next to him, holding his hand, for the rest of his life. 

But while his heart and body cried out for joy and begged him to be closer to the one he loved, his brain was yelling at him to put on the brakes, to slow down, to be cautious. What about that guy he’d seen her with? What about the past year and a half of anguish and torment? Could all of that really be forgotten in a single day? 

He wanted to forget. He wanted to put it all behind them. He wanted to forgive and move on and mend things with her. Even if it meant risking getting hurt again. The chance of being with her for good was worth it.

So all that kept his mind occupied to the point he was barely listening to the ghost stories. Before he knew it, the hayride was over and it was time to pile out of the wagon. A pang went through him when Kairi had to let go of his hand, and he wondered if she was as starved for his touch as he was for hers.

Hopefully they’d get to talk about it soon. Hayner, Pence, and Olette had rented one of the campfires nearby for the evening, and that was enough to temporarily distract him. Their little group spent the next couple of hours hanging out, cooking hot dogs and roasting apples and making s’mores. Sora loved sitting by the crackling campfire and spending time with his friends, but as the minutes ticked by, his eyes kept wandering to Kairi. She was seated across from him, and she looked really beautiful in the flickering firelight. Their eyes met, and she smiled and looked at him the way she always used to look at him. 

“Oh gosh, I almost forgot!” Olette said, clasping her hands together. “Our pumpkins! We should grab them so we can light the tea candles in them.” She stood and stretched. “Hayner, Pence, come with me so we can grab everyone’s pumpkins and bring them back.” 

Hayner and Pence finally got the hint and followed after Olette, leaving Sora and Kairi alone. He stood under the pretense of roasting another marshmallow, but really, he just wanted an excuse to sit next to her. He loved being close to her, and her natural scent mingled with the campfire’s smell in a way that reminded him of all the times they’d gone camping as kids back home. 

“The embers are best here,” he said to explain his sudden change in position, and she smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Oh are they now.” 

“Yeah.” A few seconds passed, and he added, “Listen, Kairi, about earlier—”

“I’m still in love with you,” she blurted out, and he dropped the marshmallow and stake into the fire. Didn’t even care about them anymore. Something far more important was at stake here. 

“But—I saw you, with that guy—It’s why I left again—”

Kairi shook her head, and her eyes watered. “After our mission, I was hoping you and I could work things out, but I felt like you were avoiding me. I figured you didn’t love me anymore, and I couldn’t blame you. So when that guy asked me out, I thought, why not give it a shot. Why not try to move on and give you your space. But then he tried to kiss me, and I just… I couldn’t.” Her voice broke and she was crying in earnest now. “All I could think about was you,” she sobbed. “How badly you’d be hurt if you knew. How wonderful it feels when you kiss me. And I knew I was still in love with you. I knew my heart would always be yours. I knew it was pointless to try to move on.” 

Sora stared at her, his heart pounding in his chest. Kairi still loved him? Kairi still wanted to be with him? That guy he saw her with was nothing more than a quick fling that made her realize the one she truly wanted to be with was him? 

She wiped her teary eyes. “Say something, please.” 

He gently caught her hand and tugged it away from her face. She searched his eyes, and he smiled and cupped her cheek. 

“I love you too, Kairi,” he said, softly, tenderly, then brought his lips to hers. He kissed her with all the pain and homesickness he’d felt the past year and a half, all the pining and aching and longing, hoping she’d realize just how much he wanted this, how much he wanted her. And she kissed him back, so unguarded and wild and joyful that his pain started to fade away. What had happened couldn’t be undone, but it could be mended and healed, could be turned into something beautiful and good, could become another part of their love story. 

When it was over, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. She leaned against his heart and gently touched where his scar was hidden under several layers of clothes. She knew it so well that she didn’t even have to look to know where it was. And he didn’t have to look to know where Xehanort had struck her down either; his hands had held the very spot countless times before and remembered exactly how to comfort her.

“I love you,” he said, his voice full of emotion. 

“I love you too.”  

He kissed her head and stroked her hair. “I’m gonna make you a new promise,” he said. “You mean everything to me, and I want to settle down with you, get married, start a family. The past several years, I’ve been saving up munny so we can do just that. Maybe we should go to college first though, that would probably be good. We’ve gotta provide for our family and for each other somehow. And I know it’ll be an adjustment for me. I’m not naive enough to think it won’t be. But you’re more than worth it.”

She sniffled and clutched his hoodie. “I’m sorry for doubting you.” 

“It’s okay. You had a lot of reasons to be concerned. I’ve left you behind too many times before.” 

“But you always come back to me,” she said as she looked up and searched his eyes. 

“That’s right. I made you a promise, to always return.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out her lucky charm. 

She teared up again and curled his fingers around it. “Keep it till we get home. For good, I mean. Then, and only then, will I take it back.” 

“Deal.” 

He tucked it back into his pocket and held her and kissed her and comforted her. He shared his hoodie with her too because even with the campfire nearby, she was getting a little cold. Plus it was just nice to be this close to her. He’d missed her, so much. And something about the fire was cozy and calming and enchanting. He could hold her like this and stare into it forever. 

Well, until Hayner, Pence, and Olette returned with the pumpkins. They had big smiles on their faces, and Olette told them to close their eyes. Sora heard the lighter flicking a couple of times as their friends lit the pumpkins, and then when he and Kairi opened their eyes, he could see why Olette had wanted this to be a big surprise. 

Kairi had carved the same drawing of him that she’d drawn in the Secret Place when they were kids, complete with the paopu fruit she’d added to it years later. It matched perfectly with his pumpkin because he’d carved the drawing he’d made of her with the paopu fruit too. A big smile lit up her face as she saw the two pumpkins side-by-side, and he grinned and kissed her cheek, only for her to kiss him properly on the lips. There was much whooping and hollering from Hayner, Pence, and Olette, much to he and Kairi’s amusement. 

“Operation-get-the-lovebirds-back-together is a success!” Hayner crowed, high-fiving Pence. 

Sora raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you guys planned this?” 

“Maybe,” Olette said with a teasing lilt to her voice, and Hayner and Pence both had triumphant smirks on their faces. 

“I can believe you did,” Sora said to Olette, “but these two interrupted Kairi and I so much tonight I was convinced they were trying to keep us apart,” he finished, jabbing his finger at Hayner and Pence.

“Reverse psychology, it works wonders,” Pence said. “We figured it would get you more desperate to talk to each other.” 

“I guess it worked then,” Sora said wryly. “Because as great as that hayride was, it was not worth all the interruptions.” 

Hayner, Pence, and Olette laughed, and Kairi giggled and nuzzled his cheek. Sora soon joined in with the merriment. He couldn’t hold the scheming against his friends, especially because it had worked. He and Kairi were together again, and while it would take time to mend all the hurt between them and forge a path forward, he knew they would. Tonight was a good start, and he was determined to make this work and so was she. 

When their eyes met, he knew something else, too. He loved her and she loved him, and that was more than enough for them to make their own storybook ending and happily-ever-after.

~~~

A/N: Last year I wrote nine kiss prompts for SoKai based on this list, and I wanted to write one more to hit ten, so, this story fits... 

11. ...in joy, 

30. ...as comfort, and 

50. ...out of love.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[milazka]

Distraction — Drew Starkey.

image found on pinterest

summary: the one where the quaterback of the football team helps you forget about your bad grade.

request: yes

content: fluff & smut

author’s note: it’s my very first story about a member of the cast of outer banks! i would like to clarify that all this is fictional, i only use the looks and the names of the actors and actresses. my masterlist will be linked at the end of this story if you feel like reading some other fics. this one is for my babe cort ( @pogue-writings ) because she is drew’s soulmate.

warnings: most of my stories may contain mature themes such as swearing, underage drinking, substance abuse, sexual language and scenes, fights and more. also, i do not intend to be offensive towards anyone who reads this blog, if anything written can be perceived as hurtful to any community or person, i apologize, it was never my purpose while writing it.

word Count: 1957.

The campus library has always been her favorite spot to study. It's quiet and the atmosphere is always soothing, the exact opposite of her dorm room where her roommate seems more interested in experimenting the male anatomy than studying it in her textbook. A few weeks ago, after catching her once again during the act, she had decided to find a new place to study. She had walked around the campus and eventually found this spot around one of the large hardwood tables that stand between the bookshelves full of old books about psychology. The perfect place to set her in a study mood. 

For the past few hours, she has been sitting in her usual place, her textbook open in front of her eyes and her black notebook on her right. She only has one midterm left in two days and it will cover all the topics seen in her subconscious psychology course, which is one of her most interesting courses, but also the one that requires the longest hours of study in order to pass the exams. 

The sound of a chair gliding on the floor makes her look up and she’s surprised to see Drew, a boy from her psychology of the subconscious class, sit on the chair in diagonal to her. Normally, the library is almost empty at this time of the night and she never saw him here; he seems like the kind of guy who spends more time on the football field than he does in front of his textbooks. They’ve been in the same class for four months, but she never really paid attention to him, except when he is disturbing the class with the two other musketeers, Chase and Rudy. She smiles nicely at him when their eyes meet and he raises his coffee cup which he pretends to drink all at once while they both laugh silently, hoping not to be warned by Mrs. Jones, the librarian who looks strangely similar to Roz from the movie Monster inc.

She tries to put her nose back in her book, trying to focus on the pages suggested in the study guide and highlighting important sentences from a passage about Freud and his discovery of psychoanalysis, but she can't help but look up discreetly at the boy. He is wearing a navy flannel shirt which, half-buttoned, reveals a white shirt that moulds his muscular chest. His trademark cap, which he always wears backwards, rests as usual on the top of his head, still letting a few strands of hair slip out of the hat. She particularly lingers on his muscled arms covered by the navy blue cloth, it's not surprising that he's the quarterback on the football team. The  studious look on his face and the way he’s chewing on the tip of his pencil while frowning makes him look cuter than usual, she can’t deny it. 

When she sees the lateness of the hour, she delicately puts her books back in her red bag, not noticing how intensely the boy is staring at her. He simply can't help but admire her sweet angelic face, her tired-looking little eyes, the thin, shiny layer of lip balm covering her lips that he would dream of kissing; he likes everything about her and cannot help but smile foolishly. 

“Hey Y/n,” he whispers, catching her attention. “Me and the boys are throwing a party friday night, you should come.” 

“Oh, yeah, of course!” she smiles at him, noticing his blushing cheeks and the little spark in his gaze.

“Great! Good luck on your exam.” 

“Good luck to you too. I’ll see you friday.” 

─── °• ❀ ───

The room goes from purple to blue, then from blue to pink, courtesy of the spotlights that change the colour of the room's luminosity along the rhythm of the music. The parties hosted by the university football team always do justice to their reputation, no matter what’s the occasion. It's not the first time she attends one, but it's the first time she’s been invited by the quarterback. Her mind did not stop playing back the memory of the little sparkle in the young man's eyes when she had accepted his invitation. Maybe it meant nothing, but a part of her wants to believe it didn't. Plus, she really needs to take her mind off things after receiving her mediocre grade from the last exam. She knew her teacher was strict, but not this strict. 

As she makes her way through the dancing crowd, an arm slips around her naked shoulders, making her startles. She's used to being approached by boys at parties, but she hates it when they think they can do anything and touch her even if she doesn't want to. Looking up, she loosen up when she sees Drew's familiar face smirking at her and she's glad it's not a drunk who's asking her to blow him.

“I'm so glad you came,” he says to her as he hands her a red cup filled with beer. “How did your exam go?”

She pouts, taking a big sip of the golden liquid that tickles her throat.

“Really bad.” 

“That sucks,” she raises an eyebrow at the boy as when he takes back the cup that he just gave her and drops it on the countertop behind him. “C’mon, I have the perfect remedy for a bad grade.” 

Drew takes her tiny hand into his big one, guiding her to the backyard where several tables are set up to play beer pong. Small lights illuminate the yard where games have already started. People cheer each other up and yell like crazy when someone manage to get the ball in a cup. She recognizes Rudy’s familiar blond hair when he jumps into Jonathan's arms and she deduces they just won their game against Madison and Austin. Everyone laughs when the two boys lose their balance and crash into the grass, grunting at each other. Her hand is still holding Drew's firmly when he walks up to Chase who is sitting in a chair close to the fire pit with his girlfriend on his lap, grilling and eating marshmallows. 

“Yo Chase! Me and Y/n vs Maddie and you?” Drew challenges his friend, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Game on, baby!” Chase exclaims as they both stand up and follow them to the table.

She and Drew make a fire team, throwing a series of winning shots and gradually getting Madelyn and Chase drunk. All the way through the game, she never worries about her bad grade, it's like it never existed. The alcohol in her bloodstream seems to be opening her eyes to Drew's attractiveness. The girl never really paid attention to how he is totally her type of guy. She bites her lower lip, obviously checking him out when he pulls off his hoodie and his shirt comes up, revealing the prominent V-shape above the hem of his pants. 

“Like what you see, don't ya?” he teases the girl, an irresistible smile on the corner of his lips. 

She blushes up to her ears, making Drew laugh, and he just adds to her embarrassment by putting his arm around her shoulders before throwing the last ball who lands directly into the last standing cup. Maybe it's the emotion of the moment for her, whereas he's been dreaming about it for months, but their eyes meet each other and suddenly their lips collide. The kiss doesn't last long, not long enough in his opinion. The flight of butterflies in the young woman's belly doesn't disappear when their lips separate, she needs to kiss him again, to feel him touch her. 

“I need you, Drew.” she whines close to his ear, making his heart skips a beat. "God, Y/n," he breaths out, pulling her closer to him. "Do you know how long I've been dreaming about you saying that to me?”

She just winks at him and grabs his hand, pulling him toward the front door as he pinches himself on the arm, not believing that this is really happening. He throws a murderous look at Rudy and Chase who make fun of him by pretending to make out sensually. They pass through the living room which is still full of people swinging their bodies to the rhythm of the music and climb upstairs where Drew guides them to his room. He slams her against the door, his hands grabbing her hips as he kisses her again. She bites his lower lip, making him growl against her mouth. Drew starts to place open mouthed kisses on her neck and she tiltes it to give him full access to her burning skin. He leads her to the bed, pinning her on the mattress and he removes her short as he is now hovering over her half naked body. His hand slides down her thigh, making her squirm under him as he gets closer to her core. He plays with the waistband of her panties, smirking against her lips.

“Drew,” she moans, looking at him with her eyes filled with desire. He grabs her waist and flip them over so she is now straddling him. She unbuttons his khaki shirt, slipping his hands over his muscular chest. She starts to grind down on his lap, making him whine and dig his fingers into her buttcheeks

“It's not about me tonight, I'm not the one who needs to be distracted.” he whispers to her ear before  flipping her over again so that he is now hovering over her. 

She lets out a few muffled moans as he leaves a trail of kisses between her breast and on her stomach. He sucks and nibbles at the skin on her inner thighs, only increasing her desire to feel him on her already wet womanhood. 

“You’re so pretty, all wet and spread out like this, just for me.”

“Drew, please…” she begs, but he cuts her short by placing a kiss on her clit, slipping her underwear off. He places an open-mouthed kiss just above her wet folds, making her buck her hips up. 

“So eager, baby, I like it.” he hums just above her bundle of nerves, sending vibrations on it. She runs her fingers through his light brown hair, pushing him closer to her heat. He finally licks a full stripe through her folds, making her back arch to the so desired feeling. 

“Oh fuck,” she groans as he inserts one finger in her, his tongue sucking on her clit. His hands are  firmly wrapped around her thighs to keep her spread open for him. She clenches the sheets between her fists, her eyes close under the wave of pleasure that runs through her body when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. His nose rubs up against her clit as he moves his face, pumping his tongue in and out of her.

“Fuck I’m so close, please don’t stop,” she moans, making him pumps his tongue faster. A few profanities mixed with loud moans leave her lips as she reaches her high, legs shaking on his shoulders. He licks her folds a few more times to clean her up, sending electric jolts through her body when he touches her sensitive nerves from the orgasm. He lies down beside her, pulling her towards him with his arms wrapped around her body.

“What about you? I’m no the type of girl who doesn’t give back,” she starts but Drew shushes her with a quick kiss. “I’m sure you’re not, but tonight it’s about you and only you.” 

“Fuck, you’re perfect, y’a know?” 

“It was about time you figured that out!” he mocks her and she giggles, burying her face further into the crook of his neck. 

─── °• ❀ ───

mila’s masterlist

taglist (send me an ask if you want to be added)

@milaonthemoon @spilledtee @pogue-writings @thebutterflyonhischest @ilovejjmaybank @bananasfromtarget @drewstarkeyobx @void-maybank @prejudic3

[chemiste]

Voicemail. ~part 2~

a/n : you want it? go get it! heres the second part to voicemail!! I’m thinking a 3rd and final part for this??? if y’all want it tell me! ALSO I’ve linked what the reader is wearing and maybe what others are too so if you see a link thats what it is. also wanted to say thank you so much for the support on this one shot!! i would put those big eye emojis but im typing on a laptop and i dont think O.O is the same....

first part!!!! go read

mah masterlist

“Next on the red carpet is singer/song writer Y/N L/N, wow look at that beautiful dress!! This year at the Grammys she is up for 3 awards, Song of the Year, Best Dance Recording, and Best Solo Pop Artist!” 

The interviewer exclaimed excitedly from her podium along side the paparazzi wall. It had been a week since the songs were let out for the world and so there was definitely an electricity in the air at the awards ceremony.

“All you fans are probably watching for the most anticipated performances of tonight! Harry Styles will be singing one of his new songs from his album FineLine! Twitter is going ballistic from the recently leaked songs about is break up with L/N, we all know the cameras will be on her tonight whenever he’s mentioned! Oh look, here she comes now!”

You walked over in your beautiful award dress, safe to say you were the best dress star there. Your hair was done up and the red long dress seemed to flow around you effortlessly as you walked. 

“Hello Diane, it’s lovely to see you again.” 

You said in a polite voice, smiling to her and the camera, she handed you an extra mic, ready to drown you with questions.

“I’m going to cut to the chase— did you listen to the songs?”

Wow, this lady’s cut throat I’ll give her that.

“Oh yes! I’ve listened to all the albums nominated this year and I’m so excited.”

“Oh I was talking about—“

“I’m so incredibly grateful for the nominations, I put my blood, sweat, and tears into this album and I’m glad the fans love it as much as I do.”

You could see the Diane deflate a little, understanding you’d keep dodging questions about Harry until it was over so she moved on. 

“Yes, you’re nominated for Best Dance Recording, the music video for your song Clouds was crazy! How long did it take you to figure out how to dance while flying?!” 

You laughed, thinking back to the many rehearsals of choreography on the ground and then being connected to cables and hoisted into the air to perform it. 

“A girl never tells her secrets,” you said with a wink. 

“Well speaking of flying in a music video, I know one performance tonight will be—“

Cheers and hysteric screaming filled the fan area as someone came on to the carpet. 

“Is that? Oh look, Harry Styles enters the stage in a—, my goodness! You and him are matching!”

You couldn’t believe it.

Harry was decked out in a full red suit, hair beautifully fluffed and glimmering in the light. He had red heels that looked like Dorthy’s slippers.

And he had the faintest amount of red lipstick on, making him look like an ethereal being in red.

“Wow, we really are matching.” 

You mumbled to yourself, half forgetting you were being filmed. 

You turned back to the camera the moment you remembered, making your face emotionless so hopefully the interviewer wouldn’t pick up on your thoughts at the moment. 

You quickly thanked her and slipped off into the sea of celebrities, hearing his voice ‘hello love! So happy you could come’ to the fans hoping he would give them a signature.

You entered the award room, looking for your assigned seat. Luckily you were strangely one of the only people in there aside from a few techies working on the stage lights.

“Lady Gaga, Taylor Swift, Selena Gomez, Billie Elish, Kahild… Harry….” 

You gasped, basically scoffing at what you saw next. 

“Y/N L/N? Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

You started to breathe a little faster, “Oh god, I don’t think I can do a whole ceremony next to him, after the whole thing online… and not responding to his texts.”

It’s true, when he had texted you that morning, it took you 5 hours and a shot of tequila to actually open his messages.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Hey… I don’t know if you’ve gotten a call from one of your PR people yet but, I just wanted you to know I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I don’t wish to put you through anymore than what I already have…

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

Um, but uh, if you’ve listened to the songs, just know that I really do mean the words I sang. I wish we could have, uh talked, but I understand I’m not in any position to ask for that. Just, there were a few others songs that didn’t get leaked, and uh, I’d like you to have them. You don’t have to listen to them but, it would mean a lot to me if you did.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

“Mrs. Styles.”M4A. Click to open.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

“I Should Have Fought.”M4A. Click to open.

Bastard (wasn’t allowed to block, fuck PR)

“I’m Sorry.”M4A. Click to open.

You didn’t listen to them, like the others. 

You just… couldn’t. 

It had taken you so long to get over him and grind it into your head that you didn’t do anything wrong, he did. 

Your PR team decided the best thing to do was acted like nothing had happened because if you didn’t give a response the public would have nothing to go off of, so here you were, looking at one of the scheming ideas from someone on the Award Team to see if they’d be the first to get some action between the two of you.

“Fuck that.” 

You said to yourself, looking around to make sure no one was looking, you snatched your name paper and walked about 15 seats over and changed with Lana Del Ray. 

Because you were all in the front row, you couldn’t get farther than that, but this would have to do. You quickly put Lana’s paper in your previous seat and walked out of the room, escaping the ‘crime scene’.

At least I’m sitting next to Shawn now.

You and Shawn had gotten to be friends around a year ago when you bumped into him at the recording studio and....maybe spilled your marshmallow milkshake down his shirt.

“I’m so fuckin sorry! Oh god please don’t sue me for this, or worst, tell your fans!!” 

You rambled, padding him off with the napkins from your fast food bag. You looked up at the tall Canadian in front of you that just had a smile on his face.

 “Hey don’t worry about it, uh, I’m Shawn but I guess you already knew that.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been listening to your music for a while its fantastic, I’m—“ 

“Y/N L/N, America’s Favorite Child and Feminist thats not faired to fuck you up?” 

You grinned, “Oh you saw that video?” 

He laughed, “Hell ya I did, You punching that old misogynist groping that girl on the street is one of the videos saved on my phone!”

After that day, you both caught on like a house on fire since you seemed to be in the studio at the same time, it was great having someone to throw ideas around with at 3am when everyone else had left the studio.

“Y/N! Girl! I haven’t seen you in forever!” 

You looked up from the corner of the red carpet you had been hiding standing in. Hailee Steinfeld made her way over to you in a black dress that hugged her perfectly. 

You let out a sigh of relief, you gave her a big hug, breathing in her sweet perfume. 

“Hailee you’re a life savor, I feel so out of it here.” 

She gave you a soft look, “Cause he’s here right?”

You clinched your jaw, “And we’re fucking matching! How did that even happen? It’s literally the same shade of my dress and everything! There are so many shades his team could have chose but they went with that one! And the lipstick! He’s basically a devil personified! But he’s got style!”

You quietly rambled to your fellow singer, she squeezed your hand when the bell chimed telling everyone it was time to enter. 

“Y/N, before we go in I wanted to ask if you had listened to the songs.” 

“Uh, no… I… I couldn’t hear his voice staying those things to me so I just read the lyrics.” 

Hailee gave your bare shoulder a squeeze, “Well, I don’t want to play devil’s advocate,” you smiled at her little quip, “but I did, and what’s not in the lyrics just written is the emotion you could hear in his voice. During Drunk Thoughts, theres a part that people are speculating he’s crying while recording, trying force sing it out and, it’s just, I think it’s time you spoke to him.”

Hailee was one of your most trusted friends and to hear her say this, wasn’t surprising.

You were starting to think it too.

“But, I’m scared H, what if makes it worse?”

The final bell chimed and you both started to walk inside. “I have a feeling it won’t."

                                                        ........

“What an incredible performance by Ariana Grande, next up is the show we’ve all been waiting for, or well I’ve been waiting for, here’s Harry Styles performing a new song from his nominated Album, FineLine!” 

James Corden announced from the side aisle. You felt Shawn subtly queen your hand, knowing there was bound to be a camera on you the whole time while Harry sang.

You took a deep breath,

No facials.

No twitching.

Calm.

The curtain came up from the stage, the set was a back cube cut diagonally so the audience could see the inside. 

Harry stood in a white suit sans a shirt. He wasn’t wearing shoes so you could see the painted red toe nails peeking out from underneath the too long suit pants. 

His hair had been messed with a bit, giving it a soft and fluffy just out of bed look.

Now he looks like an angel.

He held a red mic in his hand, and spoke into it.

“Before we start, I’d like to inform you that I will be singing an unreleased song not from my album called.”

He took a breath.

"Red.”

You curled your toes in your heels the only way you’d be allowed to release the tension you felt in your body since they were covered by your dress.

Fuck, that’s why we match.

A piano started playing, a sort of dark melody that reverberated through your bones and into your soul.

It’s all I can see,

It’s all I can hear,

The sound is loud,

But it’s not clear.

The tone of your voice,

Plays in my head,

That look in your eyes,

I can tell you want me dead.

Grays are the only color I see,

Black and white and in between.

But then I saw you in that dress.

The color of blood always suited you the best.

You and your red dress.

You and your red…… dress.

Thoughts swirl around, in my mind.

Pretty eyes and satin clothes,

They plagues my dreams, in the night.

Grays are the only color I see,

Black and white and in between.

But then I saw you in that dress.

The color of blood always suited you the best.

You and your red dress.

You and your red…… dress.

You watched as he struggled to hold back the emotion in his voice, you sucked in a small breathe when his eyes made contact with yours, unwavering.

Oh… I wish could take it back.

Oh… I wish I could take it back.

Oh… I wish could take it back.

Oh… I wish I could take it back.

You and your red dress.

You and your red…… dress.

You and your red dress.

You and your red…… dress.

The song ended and the audience was silent.

 Everyone could feel the tension in the room, so you did the only you could do.

You stood and started to clap.

Shawn and Hailee immediately followed your cue and soon the rest of the auditorium was erupting with cheers and roars of excitement.

But all you could focus on was the smile on his face, looking down at you.

And the one forming on yours too.

<3

3rd part right here!

alsoooo i’d like to say a big wtf to people that white wash reader inserts! it’s so damn easy to just put a little colleague together like i did and add it so everyone can envision themselves and like,,, need a hairstyle? literally say ‘you did your favorite hairstyle’ thats perfect and a neutral way to keep everyone happy!!! people that bitch about going the extra mile are worthless writers smh

[xbaepsae]

the ebb and flow | part four

“In the five years you’ve known him, you’ve never really stopped to notice how much he has changed. Long gone is that awkward thirteen-year-old boy.”

[demigod!jeongguk x demigod!reader]

genre: percy jackson!au, mythology!au, demigod!au, enemies to lovers!au

word count: 1.9k

rating: pg-13

warnings: the usual character tension, nothing really too crazy...besides a shirtless jk lol

a/n: omg i love this chapter so much! eeek. it’s just very exciting imo lol. hope you all enjoy :) xoxo

→ series masterlist!

the fifth summer – in which you come to a realization

“How come I’ve barely seen you these last few days?”

It’s the third day of you fulfilling out your punishment with Jeongguk, and surprisingly it hasn’t been that awful. When you both are busy cleaning, you guys rarely talk. There is just always so much to be done, it leaves little room for conversation. But this is ideal anyway; the less you have to interact with Jeongguk, the better.

Looking up from your lunch, you see Haru blinking at you. She’s the head counselor for Aphrodite’s cabin now. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

Even though she’s technically not supposed to, she takes a seat at your table anyway and gives you a concerned look. However, on her pretty face, even concern looks beautiful. “There’s a rumor going around that your cabin got in trouble.”

You freeze. “Who did you hear that from?”

“I heard some of the younger Aphrodite girls gossiping last night,” Haru says, “and they mentioned your name and Jeongguk’s.”

“Oh,” you don’t even know what to say. Styx. If the Aphrodite cabin knew, then everyone is bound to find out sooner or later. “Yeah, it’s a long story.”

Haru cocks her head. “Well, good thing I’m a great listener.”

As one of your closest friends here, Haru knows much about the history between you and Jeongguk. When you tell her about the attempted capture the flag game and how you’re stuck cleaning stables with your enemy, you can tell she’s struggling not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” she lets out a giggle. “This is all just too perfect.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, getting up to throw the rest of your meal as an offering. Walking out of the dining pavilion, Haru follows you closely behind.

“What I mean is,” she begins, looping her arm through yours, “that I can’t be the only one here who notices something.”

You have zero idea what she’s talking about. “Notice what?”

Haru suddenly forces you to stop in your tracks, angling your body towards the volleyball courts. “Notice that.”

Narrowing your gaze towards that direction, you notice there are a number of people there—especially girls. Rarely does a large crowd like that gather during this time of day; it’s the afternoon and an incredibly hot summer in Long Island this year. Your eyes move from the crowd to the players, and that’s when you see what Haru was talking about. You realize Ares’s cabin is playing against Poseidon’s, which means Jeongguk is—

“Why does he have to be so hot without a shirt on?” Haru muses, fanning herself.

From this angle, you can see the way his shorts ride dangerously low on his hips and the sweat that glistens across his skin. His hair has grown considerably long recently, and he has to continuously brush it back to reveal his eyes. As he moves to receive the ball and jumps to land a spike, you can understand why the girls are looking at him like he’s a god and not just a half-blood.

In the five years you’ve known him, you’ve never really stopped to notice how much he has changed. Long gone is that awkward thirteen-year-old boy. Obviously, training here at Camp Half-Blood makes campers leaner and more muscular, but Jeongguk looks…good—really good—which you hate to even think about.

“He looks okay,” you manage to say before you tear your eyes away from him.

Beside you, Haru huffs. “You’re so lame, y/n. Can’t even admit that Jeongguk is hot.”

“He’s annoying, that’s what he is.”

“Whatever you say,” she rolls her eyes. “I think he looks especially delicious these days.”

After you drop Haru off at Cabin Ten, you walk towards yours and proceed to finish some summer work. Well, it’s not really work per se, but more like something you just really wanted to do. Since you’re going to college in New Rome this fall and majoring in architecture, you’ve been redesigning a few buildings and even creating your own. Like most Athena children, you love creating and can’t wait to see what your future holds in the field.

You are so caught up in your work that you don’t even notice that much of the day has already passed by, and you should probably grab a quick dinner before heading to the stables. As you rush through dinner, a few of your half-siblings bring up your punishment, clearly feeling bad that you’re the one who’s taken responsibility for everything.

“As head counselor, I had to,” you explain.

“Yeah, but it’s not really fair,” one of them says. “I mean, we all wanted to give Poseidon’s cabin a run for their money.”

“They’re all so arrogant since their godly parent is one of the big three.”

“Zeus and Hades campers are the same.”

You listen as your cabin begins complaining about all the other cabins and their various faults, but their voices fade when Jeongguk passes by your table. He’s walking with Jimin and gives you a look that you can’t decipher. But before you can delve too deeply in it, Aphrodite’s table calls him over. Flashing them his signature smirk, he leaves without another glance.

“How’s it been having to work with him?” Namjoon sets his plate right in front of you, breaking your attention away from Jeongguk.

You shrug. “He’s an asshole, but it actually hasn’t been that bad. Could honestly be worse.”

“Think you’ll last the rest of your punishment?”

“I hope so,” you sip from your goblet. “Or else Chiron is going to have my ass, and not to mention Mr. D is supposed to come back next week.”

“Oh yeah,” Namjoon muses like he forgot that the god of wine runs the camp. You don’t blame him—you often forget that too. “Where is he anyway?”

Thinking back to the head counselor meeting you had a few weeks ago, you try to remember what Chiron had told you all. “I think he just had some business to take care of in Olympus. You know, twelve stuff. Meetings perhaps?”

Namjoon nods before you tell him that you have to leave. “I’ll see you guys at the campfire later.”

“Sure; see ya.”

***

You finish your portion of the stables quick—cleaning has gotten easier as the days have gone by—and wait outside the stables.

It’s not like you want to wait for Jeongguk’s slow ass, but you have the key anyway and there’s no way you trust him enough to just leave it. So, you settle for watching the last remnants of the sunset in the sky. From here, you can begin to make out the smoke from the nightly campfire. And slowly, the smell of burnt marshmallows begins to fill your lungs and thought brings a smile to your face. 

For a moment, you’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t even realize that Jeongguk is already beside you. When you realize that he’s awfully close to you, a gasp leaves your lips. “Holy Styx, you scared me!”

You except him to respond with something snarky, but he doesn’t. Instead, he begins to walk away, and you frantically attempt to lock the gate and follow him. On the way to the campfire, you stay a few feet behind Jeongguk, and you can’t help but think about Haru’s words from earlier today.

As much as it pisses you off, Jeongguk is super attractive these days. However, although he looks good, you can’t get over his attitude that often clouds your judgement. He’s a pain in the ass, and you can’t wait for the rest of the punishment to fly by.

When you both arrive at the campfire, the singing has already begun. Well, the singing by Apollo’s cabin at least. You try to get as far away from Jeongguk as possible, finding a seat beside Min Yoongi, son of Hades. The pale boy gives you a weird look, probably wondering why you’re sitting beside him.

“What in Zeus’s name do you think you’re doing?” he asks, confirming your thoughts.

You feign innocence. “What do you mean?”

“Y/n, you never sit here.”

He is partially correct—you usually sit beside your own cabin or Haru—but you two are friends…right? You voice this thought to him, but Yoongi just rolls his eyes—clearly not enthused by you or Hoseok’s lyre playing. “Oh, don’t be like that, Yoongi. We are friends.”

“What have you been doing with Jeongguk?” he suddenly changes the subject, and everyone’s singing seems to fade into the background. “You two aren’t…sneaking around, are you?”

The suggestive look on Yoongi’s face would be hilarious any other moment—because he rarely shows any emotion—but you choke at his assumption instead. “Oh gods no. Why would I do something like that?”

“Beats me,” Yoongi shrugs. “All I know is you both look suspicious as fuck.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” you huff, “Jeongguk and I aren’t sneaking around. That’s disgusting.”

“Then what are you two doing coming to the campfire together?” If Yoongi doesn’t know about your punishment, then most people probably don’t know either. That brings you a little relief.

Although you don’t want everyone to know, you also don’t mind telling Yoongi. As a Hades kid, he mostly keeps to himself anyway. So, you answer his question and reveal that you actually got in trouble, which is why you’ve been spending extra time with the son of Poseidon.

“So, yeah, Chiron’s making us build teamwork skills,” you practically spit out.

Yoongi hums, eyes moving from you to glance at the fire. You take a moment to observe him, glancing at his dark hair and dark clothes. How does he manage to get away with not wearing the camp t-shirt? Maybe he just doesn’t care.

“Interesting,” is all he says.

“How so?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer your question; instead, he asks, “So, how’s it been building teamwork skills with Jeongguk?”

“I mean,” you begin, “it could be worse, I guess. Jeongguk and I usually fight all the time; but we really haven’t these last few days.”

“That’s some progress, yes?”

You nod. “I suppose.”

“Think you’ll hate the poor kid forever?” Turning your head to face him, you notice a weird expression in his eyes. You don’t really know what it means.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. “Forever’s a long time.”

Silence passes between you after that, the both of you paying attention to Chiron’s announcements. Afterwards, more music is played, and more singing is done—some campers even get up to dance with the nymphs. Eventually, the night ends and everyone slowly begins to walk back to their cabins. You’re about to join Namjoon and the rest of Athena’s cabin when Yoongi’s voice holds you back.

“I think you should give Jeongguk a chance.”

You raise a brow at that. Is he being serious? “What?”

“He’s not as horrible as you make him seem,” Yoongi says, which causes you to roll your eyes. “I’m serious.”

“Are we talking about the same person?” You almost want to laugh. Where is this even coming from? “Because if so, you have a really different perception of Jeongguk than I do.”

“Maybe I do because I’m a child of the Big Three too, which means I empathize with him; but at the same time, you’ve only seen one side of Jeongguk—the side you want to see. The side he shows when you two are at odds.”

You think about this for a moment, but quickly shake your head. “I don’t know, Yoongi.”

“Trust me,” he says before leaving you to stand there all alone.

[binnie-loves-dark]

Strangers in the night (Changbin x Y/N)

A content sigh left your lips whilst reading a book, sitting atop your camper van admiring the beauty of the luscious green fields and valley below. You lived a simple life. Just you and your faithful feline friend Ziggy to keep you company. The sun was beginning to enter its journey of setting, a signal that it was time to move on to your next location for the night before night truly fell.

You turned the keys in the vans ignition only to be met with a merciful groaning sound scaring both you and Ziggy in the process.

You held back a chuckle at the poor cats response “Sorry buddy! I didn’t mean to spook you, sounds like Daisy doesn’t want to start. Let’s try that again shall we?”

Grrr....grrr...grrr

Nope she definitely didn’t want to go. “Great” you cursed aloud and hit the steering wheel. The night sky was begging to draw ever closer followed by the quiet echos of coyotes howling in the distance. You knew you should have left earlier rather than risk getting stuck in the middle of unfamiliar territory.

Opening the drivers door you grabbed the torch stored away in the glove compartment. Popping up the hood of the campervan nothing looked unordinary or suspicious. A few taps and nudges here and there usually did the trick to fix any problems, but this time it was not the case.

You knew the basics of how to fix and take care or your campervan but never anything too technical. The nearest garage repair shop was at least a few miles away, much too far to walk this late at night - especially alone.

Admitting defeat you were busy fishing out a couple of blankets from the trunk which you kept for emergencies such as this deciding the only choice you had was to spend the night here. That was until a set of headlights came into view nearby. Seeing this as an opportunity to potentially get some help or at least a ride to the nearest garage you stepped out towards the rubbly road and stuck an arm out to try and grab the drivers attention.

It didn’t look like whoever was driving had noticed you and wasn’t going to stop. However a few meters past you down the road red brake lights suddenly appeared. You slowly paced up to the drivers side hoping it wouldn’t be anyone with sinister intentions. The window wound down and you were met with a set of sparkling bright eyes paired with a rather sharp but also elegant looking face which took you aback slightly.

“Can I help you?” The stranger coughed.

Dammit! You didn’t realise you had been staring for such a period of time that would be deemed uncomfortable to anyone.

“Oh umm I’m so sorry. Aha!” You giggled awkwardly. “Umm I kind of could do with some help. My campervan doesn’t want to start and I’m out of ideas of what it could be. Would you possibly mind taking a look and see if I’ve missed anything obvious?”

“Sure.” Was all the stranger hesitantly replied, his cold attitude and words certainly didn’t match his looks.

Turning away from his truck you slowly plodded back to your van not holding out much hope for him to find a solution. You tossed the keys over to him so he could start looking at what could be the issue.

Grrr...grrr...grrr was all that could be heard from your beloved van again. He stepped out from the drivers seat and moved to the hood of the vehicle and started doing the same basic examinations and tests you had previously done under your torch’s spotlight.

“Can you keep the light still, I can’t see where anything is if you keep moving!” He grunted.

“Sorry! I’m just cold that’s all” It was almost the dead of night after all.

“Here, take this” suddenly you were engulfed by the hoodie he previously wore. “Oh thanks” you shyly blushed. No one had ever made this sort of gesture towards you before, always keeping yourself to yourself resulted in spending a lot of time on your own. Not only was he helping try to fix your van but you now had his hoodie to stop you freezing from being exposed to the elements. It smelt faintly of his cologne, a woody scent with a slight citrus spice to it. It strangely comforted you for some reason which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“My names Changbin by the way.” He said looking at you whilst scratching the back of his head.

“I’m Y/N” you quietly replied. “And thank you for all this. Having any luck yet?”

He sighed “I think it’s something possibly to do with the conversion unit. But I’m not entirely sure, that kind of thing is way past my expertise level and is probably gonna be costly to get fixed.” Disappointment was strewn across your face, you felt absolutely devastated. A slight tear started to emerge from the corner of your eye, the reality of the situation starting to dawn on you that your most beloved and prized possession had given up.

A hand reached to your shoulder “Hey don’t be upset. I may not even be right! Guess he means a lot to you?”

“It’s a she actually!” This came out much colder than you anticipated it to but blamed it on your emotions getting the better of you. “She’s called Daisy and yeah we’ve kind of been through a lot together. Apart from dear old Ziggy sleeping in there she’s the most special thing to me.”

“Daisy, oh it’s a cute name” He had rested his back on the now closed hood of your van. “You had her for a long time then I guess?”

“You could say something like that. I’ve had her since high school, we’ve travelled a lot which kept me sane and helped me find my true self along the way.”

“Oh right. It’s nice you have a story and she’s in really good nick. Just a shame she’s decided to pack up now”

“It’s fine honestly. I’ll just wait for sunrise and take a walk to the nearest stop and see if they can help get her started again. Thanks for trying though.” You circled round to the other side of the truck gathering up the blankets once more as a puzzled Changbin took a hold of your wrist.

“You’re not seriously going to stay out here all night on your own are you?” He looked down at you, creases forming between his eyebrows from frowning.

“I’ll be fine!” You brushed him off of your arm. “I have blankets, some spare food and some water so I’ll be fine until then. Honestly you don’t need to worry about me.”

“Y’know you could always come back with me. I’m only a couple of miles away from here. Only if you’re comfortable to though, don’t feel pressured. I just can’t consider myself a gentleman if I don’t even offer.” He scratched the back of his head again, this must be what he does when he’s nervous. Initially you thought there was no chance you’d go anywhere with this stranger, but a part of you also realised the contrast to how he acted towards you in the beginning. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you first thought.

“Okay, but don’t try anything funny. Otherwise I’ll... I’ll set Ziggy on you!” He smiles followed by a giggly laugh and you once again realised how breathtaking his features were. His smile kind of made you feel weak at the knees like you were school girl all over again.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” He grinned whilst raising an eye brow at you.

“You betcha it is! Are you sure you don’t mind? Hopefully it will only be for one night.” “Of course not! Why would I offer otherwise. Now come on, grab your basic things and put them in my trunk.”

You scrambled some of your essential belongings together into a satchel as quickly as you could. Also making sure Ziggy has his harness and lead securely fastened before picking him up from his luxurious pillow seated on the front passenger seat.

Locking Daisy up you felt a pang of guilt for leaving her here for the night. “It’s alright old girl. I’ll be back in the morning and hopefully we can make you as good as new again”. You made your way to Changbins truck and found Ziggy already asleep in the backseat. He probably had no care as to what was going on and was just happy to be in a warm cozy bed wherever it was situated.

Securing your seatbelt you turned to face Changbin to thank him once again for all of this. “Y/N you don’t need to keep thanking me. What kind of a human being would that make me if I left you out here all alone tonight.” He set off on the journey home. You both made awkward small talk the whole journey and realised you actually had more in common than first thought. Sharing a passion for photography and travelling amongst other things.

The journey wasn’t too far and you were soon met with a log type cabin which you assumed is where you’d be staying for the night. It didn’t look much to the eye but considering the beauty of the surrounding area it blended in perfectly.

You dumped your satchel by the front door and went over to help Changbin who was busy preparing two hot chocolate supremes to warm you both up. It was the most delicious looking drink you had ever set eyes on. The deep dark chocolate at the bottom of the glass soon blended into a more faded colour the closer it got to the squirty cream which was topped with marshmallows, grated chocolate and a slight sprinkle of cinnamon.

You both sat on the sofa facing the wood fire, hot chocolates in hand, sleep starting to overcome the both of you. It was you who gave into sleep first. Changbin was in mid conversation when he heard your slight breaths turn heavier and indication you were sleeping. Instead of disturbing you he grabbed one of your blankets and placed atop of you before lightly brushing back a streak of hair with his index finger that had fallen into your face. It was at that moment he realised the natural beauty you carried so effortlessly. How had he not noticed sooner? For some reason unbeknownst to him he felt a pang in his heart. He felt like he had known you forever, not just mere hours and could have watched you peacefully sleep all night.

Instead he slowly got up and placed a small kiss to the top of your head “Sweet dreams love” before placing himself in his own bed and allowing sleep to consume him too.

[leggomylino]

Starry-Eyed | Han Jisung

Genre: silly, nostalgia, college au, theater au

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

Word count: ~1.1k

A/n: Masterlist in bio, yeehaw! 🤠 | For Hunter 🧡 (@hanniiesuckle17​)

~⤞★⤝~

Han Jisung was a boy with stars in his eyes. He was a boy you’d come to admire for quite some time; even if he did have a tendency of occasionally running into glass doors and barely maintaining a 2.0 grade point average. He was still your first waking thought at sunrise, and your last coherent one at dusk.

And now...here, in this moment...

“...Is that it? Is that all I am to you? Just...an empty vessel? Someone to dump your emotions into when you don’t know where to turn? Heh,” you scoffed. “Well what about me, Jisung, what about my emotions?! What about MY feelings?!?”

The boy you thought you once knew turned away, a barren wasteland of his former self. The late afternoon sun accentuating the hidden highlights in naturally brown hair. “...What about them, Y/n? What about them? Since you like repeating words so much, I’ll ask you again...” 

His eyes shifted onto yours like the changing tide. 

“What about them?”

You were lost for words. You didn’t know what to say, what to think...and all because...all because...

...There was a boom mic blocking your vision.

“C U U U T!!!” An angry Director Lee Know roared. His voice was a growling sonorous from his cat-stickered megaphone. “Dang it, Hyunjin, I told you guys to knock it off!! What could be so funny this time?!”

Hyunjin and Felix, both stagehands and sound support, were (once again) kneeled over in hissing laughter from something or another they’d found amusing, causing the boom mic in Hyun’s grip to slip-n-slide...right into your face. You backed away from it, relaxing your posture as the set lights faded and the little red recording light gave out.

“I’m sorry,” Hyun wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Seungmin keeps making faces, it’s not our fault!”

All eyes turned to Camera Man Minnie as an accusatory finger went his way, including the snapping of Director Lee's head, who whirled around faster than anyone, but...the boy merely raised his brows in innocent curiosity. 

“Who, me?” he blinked. “I didn’t do anything. I’ve been paying attention to the camera this whole time.”

“Liar!!” Hyun and Felix called in unison, to which Minho reeled his head back to let out a groan of annoyance.

“Uuuuuugh, okay, whatever. Everyone take ten…I need a drink...”

As the set slowly dissipated, with Hyun and Felix chasing down Seungmin, the boy genius leaping over low-sitting equipment while managing to take poor Assistant Jeongin hostage, and Minho venturing off to the green room (tent) for that much-needed drink, you stretched out your arms and came to sit on one of the park benches not far off from the makeshift filming set. It was a lovely day in Brightwell Park, but sort of a shame; such a beautiful day to be filming such a heart wrenching scene between the crumbling relationship of your character and Han’s (whose names ironically were the same to each; courtesy of one meddling Bang Chan and Seo Changbin, who knew of your little crush and convinced Minho to alternate the names). 

A short film for your theater final...who’s bright idea was this again? What happened to just taking an exam and putting on something Shakespeare...?!

“Hey,” said Han. Right in your ear. 

Startled, you nearly fell backwards into the bushes, gripping the fabric of your sweater over your heart. How did he sneak up on you like that?!? You hadn’t even heard him sitting down...

The bench was barely big enough for Han Jisung and his spread out manner of sitting, and conservative old you, curled up on the edge. But Han didn’t seem to mind, and honestly, neither did you. 

“Here, catch,” he said, and quickly you fumbled to keep a bottle of water from exploding onto the pavement. Han Jisung swung his down, the way he always did during Minho’s ten-minute anger-management breaks where he disappeared to collectively admire pictures of his cats over a bottle of something strong. He sighed afterward. “...You’re doing great out there, as usual. But one thing I noticed...”

Oh? “Yeah?”

“...” He smiled. “There it is again. That goofy gleam in your eyes.” He flicked a fallen cherry blossom petal from your hair. “You looked like you stepped out of an anime, but we’re filming a drama here.” He took another swing of agua, then connected his elbows to his knees. “So what’s the good news? Did you finally get that apartment? Or maybe a magical fairy came and zapped all your debt away? Did your letter from Hogwarts arrive?”

Something hot laced your cheeks, the reflection of a pink glow shimmering in the water bottle’s surface. A gentle breeze whistled by, carrying with it spring cherry blossoms and something sweeter, something warmer and brighter and more fuzzy-like.

It was the shifting of a new foundation; all week, you had been trying to muster up the courage to tell Han Jisung how you really felt, how you’d always felt, ever since that fateful day in August when he approached you on stage as both the best and worst Romeo Montague you’d ever seen. You swallowed your pride, the rapid pounding of your heart telling you the time was now, before that accursed Christopher and Changbin ruined everything by blabbing it themselves through their meddling antics.

“I—“

That was all you managed to get out. Rip. “Okay, everyone back to your stations!” Minho announced. “We’ve got twenty minutes ‘til the pizza gets here and five ‘til I lose my patience with anymore distractions.”

“Aw, relax!” Han called, waving him off as he sprang to his feet and hoisted you up too. He gave you that reassuring smile, the small soft one he reserved only for you, before nerve-wracking exams and over the fire’s hearth of marshmallow s’mores and late-night cram sessions. “C’mon, Miss Showstopper,” he winked. “Let’s finish this scene so we can eat, but try to look more heartbroken this time. You looked like my aunt when she found out her husband was gonna be gone on a business trip for a few weeks.” 

Though he chuckled as he wandered off, back into the limelight of rolling cameras and goofy stagehands that did more playing than producing, you couldn’t help but smile— you just...couldn’t help it. For you may have lost one moment, but it would be one you could always come back to later, adding it to pages of unwritten script where your story and Han’s collided. There would be many more chances of impromptu, of moments to advance to the climax and savor the journey downhill, towards the final act.

You wanted to tell him, but there would be other days to come. As long as the camera kept rolling, the show would go on.

~⤞★⤝~

[literaryspinster]

Preview: Forever Yours, Iris West Ch. 11

The Ski Trip, Part II

My ankle throbs furiously between the two ice packs bandaged snugly around it. It’s a moderate sprain, according to the doctor at the small hospital in town, but there’s nothing moderate about this pain. I wince as I sandwich my phone between my ear and shoulder, waiting for dad to answer.

 Since it’s nothing life threatening, our chaperone left it up to me and dad to decide whether I want to go home early, and I already know he’s about to push as much as possible and demand to come pick me up, but God help me, I think I’d rather stay. It may be because of the way Barry is hanging behind with me while the others are already back to skiing, if I go home, he’ll just want to go home too, to save face or whatever. And how unfair would that be?

It takes a good 30 minutes to talk Dad out of driving up here in the snow and taking me back home, where I'll do nothing but rest my ankle the same way I plan on doing in the lodge for the next two days. I have to tell him three times that the onsite nurse is perfectly capable of providing what I need in the meantime, and Barry, aggressively helpful boy that he is, promises to keep an eye on me too, talking loudly enough for dad to hear me on the other line.

“I don’t know Iris,” Dad says. Finally starting to crack.

“Dad, it’s not like I can ski anymore, what other danger could I possibly get into?”

He sighs deeply, and I know I’ve won. “Okay, but you better call and tell me how you’re doing every couple of hours, and if your ankle feels even a little bit worse before the weekend’s out you let me know and I’ll get you right home.”

“I promise, goodbye, I love you,” I say, pressing end in exhaustion and throwing my head back to release an aggravated groan. “That’s a half hour of my life I’m never getting back”

Barry gives me a small, guilty smile from beside my bed, and I return it. “Don’t worry, I’m better than okay,” I say.

“I would ask if you’re sure but I don’t want to sound like your old man.”

“Thank God for that.” I say, and reach for the pair of crutches the doctor provided, ready to get the hell out of here.

****

The next day, I start to realize how very good a call it was for me to stay behind. Everyone else is enjoying their second to last morning on the mountain, taking ski lessons with Sven, while I’m cozied up in front of the fire, reading every newspaper in the lodge back to front and enjoying my second cup of the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had in my life. Barry was right, the Marshmallow really is the size of a fist, and the powdery sweetness of it mixing into the chocolate is taking me someplace else.

Speaking of Barold, he’s here too, sitting on the floor next to the couch, his shoulder just grazing my foot. I couldn’t make him go out this morning. He’s watching Titanic on two VHS tapes, and the screen flickers at the top and the bottom because VCRs are obsolete for a reason. 

“I still say they both could have fit on that door,” I murmur as I look up from the Style section.

“It wasn’t about the size of the door it was about the buoyancy, what’s both of them sinking to the bottom on that thing going to accomplish?” He says with surprising intensity, like this is hardly the first time he’s thought about this.

“Calm down Mythbusters, I’m just messing with you.”

He smiles and rolls his eyes before continuing to watch. By the time I’m done with the style section Jack is dead and I spot the glossy tears at the corner of Barry’s eye. He wipes them quickly, and I don’t say anything because he doesn’t seem like he wants me to notice. But to be honest, he has nothing to be embarrassed about. I like the fact that it actually gets to him a little. Whenever I’d watch a sad or emotional movie with Scott, he’d find a way to suck the air out of the room.

“Sorry, I know this is supposed to be sad or whatever but I can’t get over the acting, so extra and for what?” He’d said during the climactic death scene in Moulin Rouge.

“I don’t know, maybe because the love of his life just died,” I shot back.

“Okay, I need a palate cleanser after that one,” Barry says as the credits roll and Celine Dion sings about her heart going on. He stands up to approach the crate of movies.

“You know you can probably catch the last hour of ski lessons if you go now,” I suggest.

“Are you kidding?” He says. “Without my fake girlfriend? What kind of asshole would I look like?”

“The kind with a super chill fake girlfriend who wants you to have fun.”

“I am having fun,” he says, like he doesn’t have to think about it. And he roots through the crate like the conversation is over.

“Okay,” I say. “But how about something a little less White this time?”

“Fair,” he answers and holds up a copy of Boomerang, my second favorite Eddie Murphy movie of all time. “How about this?”

“Worth putting down the newspaper for.”

After sliding the movie into the VCR, he sits on the couch next to me, gently replacing the pillow my foot is resting on with his warm lap. I’ll allow it, I think to myself.

[ironmansuuucks]

🧡Orange Kisses Part 2🧡

dewey finn x reader

heyoo my guys!! this is part two to mines and @thewolfisapartofmysoul​ little dewey finn x reader fic!! this is a super cute and fluffy piece and we hope you all love it hehe🥰

Are you lost?

Orange kisses Part one

and as always this beautiful aesthetic was made by the amazing @thewolfisapartofmysoul​

“I have a surprise for you”

 You knitted your eyebrows and went to speak but Dewey jumped up and you followed suit confused. He began walking over towards his van and your eyes follow him, but he stops and looks at you, grinning to himself. His arms are out reaching towards his scarf that he had situated around your neck. You look down at his hands as they begin to pull the scarf up and over your eyes. “no peeking” he giggles as you hear him walk back towards the van.

You smirk as you hear him fumble around the van doing who knows what, “you trying to kidnap me Mr. Finn?” you joke. You could hear his smile through his words “no but I’m gonna steal your doggo, c’mere gussy boy, c’mere”. You could hear Gus’ paws crunch on the autumn leaves, galloping towards Dewey before they abruptly stopped.

You were anxious. What on earth had he done? A Surprise? You heard him wince as he banged his head on assumingly the roof of the van or something. What was this boy up to? “ok I think that’s it” he started to walk back over to you nervously. “stay boy, stay” he said to Gus. What the hell?

Suddenly you could feel his breath on your skin as his hands touched the scarf. You could smell that sweet Dewey smell again and it settled your nerves, but brought back the butterflies in your stomach.

“okay, you ready?” he questioned with an skittish grin plastered on his face. “I mean as ready as I’ll ever be” you chuckle apprehensively. You could feel Dewey’s energy in the cool air. He was keen, but you could also feel how nervous he was. He gave off this excitable yet flustered vibe.

Dewey slowly removes the scarf from your eyes and the first thing you notice are those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes glistening in the setting sun, paired with the most beautiful goofy grin plastered on his face. You could easily get lost in those eyes.

But suddenly they shifted to the side before bouncing back to you, leading you to the van. You knitted your eyebrows lightly and followed his gaze towards the van.

What initially captured your attention was the twinkling fairy lights, which led your whole body around to face the van. Your eyes lit up as they absorbed the rest of the sight in front of you. It was magical.

Dewey had (attempted to) hang little fairy lights all around the inside of the van. The twinkling LED’s cast a beautiful orange, warm, candle glow around the whole of the inside of the van. They illuminated the white duvet that had been placed in the middle of the van, on top of a bunch of other cosy bright blankets and soft comforters.

On top of those was an array of pretty pillows and coushin’s. They were all spread across the back and sides of the van and they were captivating. It was stunning. So warm, and cute. And of course, to top it off, your beautiful boy Gus was laying in the middle, on top of the duvet, looking like one cosy pupper.  

Dewey hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. He wanted to witness exactly how your features changed as you took in everything he had set up for you. He was nervous as shit. He felt like maybe is was too much too fast? But then was it? So many thoughts flew around his head. Would you like it? Would you think it was weird? Maybe he should just run for the hills out of embarrassment.

But all of those thoughts faded away as he watched your eyes light up, and how the corners of your mouth gradually creeped up in to one of the biggest and most beautiful smiles had ever witnessed. “w-whadda ya think?”.

You continued to look at the little romantic scene in awe “Dewey its.. it’s perfect” you replied breathlessly. You turn and look at his bashful, goofy face and you feel emotions you never have before.

“I mean I-“ he was cut off as you flung your arms around his neck and put yourself flush against his body, your lips finding his instantly. You could feel him smile into the kiss, and the way he started to relax in your grip, feeling relieved. He chuckles as his hands find your waist, happy to feel your lips against his again.

You pull away from him slightly, “thank you.. I love it” you smile sweetly. The bashful look on Dewey’s face would make you melt like butter. His rosy cheeks, and crinkled sparkling eyes, paired with slightly knitted brows and a side smile. You mentally snapped a pic of how cute and bashful he looked in the setting sun.

Suddenly though he pulls away from you “no wait! It gets better!” he exclaims as he bounces over and sits on the end of the van. You chuckle and make your way over to him, standing in front of where he was sitting.

He picks up a rucksack, hidden in the side of the van, behind a few pillows and starts to pull things out. “in here we have the best bit.. I have marshmallows to toast on the fire, popcorn, M&M’s, some hotdogs for dinner and- ooh! Some treats and a can of dog food for Gussie boy!” he turns round and gives Gus a quick scratch on the end and one of the treats “and that’s just for existing bud and being so awesome”. Gus licks his face, “couldn’t forget the best boy could I”.

You smile at how sweet he is to Gus, but you do notice the one bed situation, and the lack of pyjamas to sleep in.

You fold your arms and raise your eyebrow playfully, smirking “only one bed Finn?”. Dewey places the bag back down and goes all flustered and fumbles over his words “uh-uh yeah b-but only cuddles, I promise!”, his little cheeks tinting red. But you had a rule, no hooking up or anything until at least the 5th date. And that was with all guys. And only if the situation felt right. But sweet cuddles with Dewey under the stars? You could let it slide this time since he had went to all this bother for you.

“a-and I even brought you one of my t-shirts and a pair of joggers for you to sleep in see!” Dewey holds up a Led Zeppelin band t-shirt and some grey sweatpants. You smiled at his thoughtfulness, “that’s sweet but I’ll definitely be taking that hoodie you have on so I don’t freeze to death you joke.

“you stealing from me again?” Dewey jokes as you raise your eyebrow. “first my heart, now my hoodie, what’s next? My last name?” he winks, trying to be charming, jokingly of course. You laugh at him and how goofy he is. “naaah I’m just kidding- plenty of time for that” he teases as he pulls your hands so you’re in between his legs as he is situated on the end of the van.

He intertwines his hands with yours as he gazes up into your eyes “you know, when I talk to you, it’s like talking to my best friend, except.. you know, I like you and I get to kiss you and stuff” he says sheepishly.

“you don’t say” you joke as you lean down to kiss him, smiling against his lips.

* * * * *

The night had been perfect, you guys toasted marshmallows, Dewey played guitar for a little while and you had a little cuddle and a make out session under the stars. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect date. You could feel yourself falling for this dude, hard. He was so kind to you, and amazing to Gus. How did you get so lucky?

You snickered when you came back into the van after your bathroom break. Well... with a lack of bathroom... never mind. 

 You couldn’t help but smile at the sight before you. Dewey had tucked Guss in the bed too... his furry body all under the warm sheets and his nose stuck out on the pillow.

 You looked sternly at Dewey, who had a guilty look on his face. "Hey beautiful... we couldn't leave prince Gus in the cold now, could we?" 

 You rolled your eyes but glanced at your two boys again... and both looked incredibly happy and cozy. You couldn’t decide which one was your favourite at the moment... the love you held for both was equal. 

 You sighed and gave in with a smile and a "...Sure boys..." Dewey cheered and fist bumped with Gus. His nose touched his hand when he held up the knuckle towards your doggo and you snickered. When the hell did he had time to teach him that?!

 You crawled in the improvised bed, craving the warmth that was under the sheets after being in the cold autumn chill for a second. You relished in the comfort of 'your boys'... Dewey on your left, and Gus in your right. You wrapped your arms around Dewey and enjoyed the comforting heat that radiated from his skin. Gosh... that was indeed one hot rock star... you thought to yourself.

 Dewey automatically returned the embrace, wrapping his hands around your lower back, pulling you close, while he threw his leg over yours. He nuzzled his nose at the crook of your neck, and you giggled when his scruff tickled the sensitive skin there. Dewey sleepily trailed little kisses from your neck to your ear. Your neck always was a highly 'sensitive' area... but of course the dork that hugged you was oblivious by that.

 You rolled your eyes when you noticed you held your breath to suppress a moan and you cursed yourself for breaking your own rule. Annoyance at yourself and a flutter in your lower stomachache at the exact same moment. You were slightly relieved as well as dissapionted when the kissing stopped, Dewey’s dark voice filled in the silence when he mumbled: "Hey babe...?"

 You hummed softly in response and Dewey continued: "Can i tell you something? Promise you won't laugh?" You hummed again and Dewey whispered softly in your ear: "You erhm... you make all my dopamine levels go silly..." 

 You laughed and turned to face Dewey. His hands moved immediately to your hips once you were comfortable again, like they belonged there. Dewey gazed into your eyes and you reached out to play with his hair. Dewey mumbled again, still holding your eyes with his piercing soft gaze: "You remind me of mac and cheese..." You giggled and looked at his gleeful mischievous smile: "How so, champ?" Dewey kissed the tip of your nose and continued: "...I love mac and cheese..."

 You rolled your eyes and kissed his lips through your smile, his thumbs tracing circles at your hips. You mumbled through kisses: "What are you trying to tell me Dewey? Try to tell me something romantic..." Dewey pulled back, looked at you with a smug smile and with a wink he replied: "I think you're pretty rad." Gus perked his head up and whined a bit at Dewey's words. You chuckled and whispered to your doggo: "Iknow gussie-boy... he's trying." Dewey quickly replied in a British-Gus-voice: "Well mom... i kind of like this one. He tugs me in and makes you laugh, can we keep him?"

 You were full on laughing right now, threw your head on his shoulder when you lost your shit. This... this man... he really sucked with expressing feelings. But you wouldn't care... you were right were you belonged. Between your two favourite boys in the world. And there wasn't a place you would rather be right now.

 Dewey’s hands traced light patterns on your arms. You shivered at the combination of his intense gaze and his soft strokes. Cursing and welcoming the movements at the same time. Butterflies and giddiness bubbling in your stomach. 

 You kissed Dewey again. And again. And again. And brushed his scruffy cheek with your hand, you looked at him fondly and mumbled to him: "Mac and cheese huh?" Dewey let out a low chuckle in response.  

You turned your head to stage-whisper to Gus "Yeah... i think we can keep him kiddo..." Gus yawned and licked your nose. You turned back to face Dewey, crawled into his warm embrace again and lulled into his ear: "I think you are pretty rad yourself as well... mister Finn..."

 He brushed his calloused fingers through your hair and kissed your forehead: "Pfeww... lucky me... time to get some shut-eye my angel..." He pulled you even closer and mumbled sleepy in your hair: "Goodnight love. Goodnight Gussie." Just before your eyes welcomed the heavy sleep, you managed to mumble back in his shoulder: "...mmyeah... Goodnight my boys..."

 Curious what tomorrow's adventures would bring you. Well... for now you were more then content nuzzling in Dewey’s arms with Gus at your feet, in the warm cozyness of Dewey's improvised camper van. 

 This already was the best date ever. 'Dewey was indeed something special...' your mind told you before you drifted off, safely surrounded by your boys.

  Tags:  @little-miss-shy-goth​​ @paxenera​​ @heknowshisherbs​​ @missihart23��​ @geminiacally​​ @go-commander-kim​​ @gegehaddock​​ @baby-beej​​ @sadpuppetshows​​ @hoodoo12​​ @large-unit​​ @thats-specific​​ @vicunaburger​​ @stranger-strings​​ @bugdrinkss​ @sheinassheina​ @demonwifey​

[thiswasinevitableid]

Back in Time (Indruck superhero AU)

This was based on a prompt requested by several folks on the Indruck discord, and is set in the same universe as “The Thrilling Adventures of the Green Knight,” taking place some time after “Aww, Rats.”  It deals with memory loss, so if that’s a no-go for you this is one to skip.

Duck Newton is proud of how far his boyfriend has come. How a man who was once, in his own words, “a hissing, scheming villain” now dedicates his life to protecting the city of Kepopolis, fights side by side with Duck to keep their home, their city, and their friends safe. 

But sometimes, he wishes the self-preservation instinct that ruled him as a villain made more appearances. If it did, Duck might not be sitting outside the med bay of the hideout, jiggling his knee while he waits for news. Indrid might not have thrown himself in front of the blast from Dr. Amig Dahlias’ newest invention. 

Duck might be unconscious in the med bay instead, but he’ll take that outcome any day.

The door slides open and Dani pokes her head out, “He’s waking up.”

“Oh thank fuck.” He rushes inside, takes Indrid’s hand as the silver-haired man groans and shifts on the cot. 

“S’okay sugar, you’re in the base, everyone is safe, just take it easy.”

Red eyes blink open. Then stay that way, wide and scanning the room.

“I...I am glad everyone is safe. That is good. But, ah, I, I…” he turns to look at Duck, “I’m sorry, I do not know who any of you are.”

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

“Is it permanent?” Duck corners Dr. Octavius the minute he’s out of the room. The doctor is one of the best when it comes to dealing with damage from supers of all kinds. 

“I’m not sure. That blast he was hit with dealt a massive blow to his memory; as far as I can tell, he can’t remember anything from his past. Not his childhood, not his time as a villain, not all of you. I don’t know if this was the intended result, but the blast also severely dampened his precognition; his powers are functionally dormant.”

“Fuck.”

Dr. Octavius sets a hand on his shoulder; they’ve known each other a long time, he’s been patching Duck up since his days with the Chosen Squad. Some childish part of Duck’s brain had hoped he could make Indrid better, the way he always made Duck. 

“It may not be permanent, and I think the chances are good the memories are all suppressed, rather than gone. I’ll consult with some colleagues to see what can be done.”

“Thanks, Doc. Is he okay? I mean, uh, is he scared or anythin?”

“Mainly confused, which is understandable.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Thanks.” He waves as the man departs, then grabs his phone. Maybe there’s someone else who can help. 

Dr. Mwangi arrives a half hour later; she’s Indrid’s therapist and, like Dr. Nelson, the vet, she’s one of the few people in Kepopolis whose office is neutral territory. She helps supers of all alignments, and Indrids’ flashbacks are more easily handled since he started seeing her. 

“Just...do you think there’s anythin I can do to help him remember?”

“Any photographs, items of emotional significance from his past or present, those might help bring some memories back to the surface. Maybe taking him places that he’s fond of, or where important things happened. And I agree with you all that keeping all the super hero business quiet for now, as it could be completely overwhelming. Other than that, all we can be is patient. Is he staying with you?”

“Yeah. Our place is the safest, thanks to all the security he installed, so if word gets out where we live or that he’s incapacitated in some way, no one’ll be able to get in and hurt him.”

“That’s good. But I was more concerned with the need for him to be with someone he trusts. Even if he doesn’t remember you, I suspect he’ll feel safe with you.”

Duck looks into the other room, where Indrid is chatting with Aubrey (“I have a niece? That’s wonderful”). 

“God, I hope so.”

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

“You are...my boyfriend?”

“Yeah” Duck is fighting to keep a gentle smile on his face, to not crumple at the lack of recognition in Indrid’s eyes, “we been together almost two years.”

“You seem very nice. And handsome. I must be very lucky.”

“Here we are.” Duck flips on the lights, shuts the door and arms it, “home sweet home.”

“This is love--OH, oh hello.” Indrid smiles as Chicken runs up to them, demanding her dinner, “who is this.”

Duck’s heart twists with disappointment for the three-hundreth time that day; he keeps hoping the next thing they encounter will be the one to jog Indrid’s memory.

“That’s Chicken.”

“She’s so charming. I had no idea cats could be hairless.”

Duck nods with a tight smile, is digging out the new bag of cat food when Indrid chirps with delight. 

“Rats! You have rats!” His face is pressed to one of the boxes of Ratopia, his mischief of five scurrying up to greet him, “I love rats, they are so clever and resourceful.”

“They’re, uh, they’re more yours than mine. They missed you, see?” He opens the nearest door on the enclosure and five furry little bodies run out, squeaking for treats and attention. Void clambers up Indrid’s body like a black comet, letting out indignant noises when he finds Indrids coat without it’s usual special pocket for his “heart rat.” Indrid scoops Void into his hands, studying him. 

“I am sorry, little ones. You seem to know me, but I don’t know you. I would like to, though.”

“You, uh, you wanna spend some time with them while I get dinner goin?”

“Yes, please.”

Duck starts water on the stove, pulls down the box of pasta, when Indrid speaks from behind him. 

“The same applies to you, you know. I do not know you, Duck Newton.”

The box crunches in half in his hands

“But I would very much like to.”

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

It’s been three weeks, and Indrid’s memory shows no signs of returning. Duck tries to hold onto hope, tries looking on the bright side, but it all turns to rubble when he feels the empty space beside him in bed, makes a comment or reference only for Indrid to blink in confusion. 

There is one bright spot, which is that Indrid insists Duck starts their courtship over. He’s adamant that he wants to build up to dating Duck again, that he clearly has met someone wonderful and is not about to let a little bout of amnesia get in the way, thank you very much. 

So Duck takes him on date after date, finding some happiness in watching Indrid experience things he enjoys for a second-first-time. They get Gelato, Mrs. Nguyen shooting Duck a puzzled look when Indrid asks to sample several flavors, rather than ordering his usual Blue Moon with marshmallow sauce on top. They go to the movies, the zoo, to one of Aubrey’s magic shows, and all the while Duck keeps his hands glued into his pockets; Indrid is still learning to be comfortable with him, and he will not so much as brush a hair from his face unless he’s sure it’s what he truly wants. 

When Indrid takes his hand as they’re walking out of a movie, Duck tears up with embarrassing speed. 

Today, they’re in the Monongahela, Duck taking Indrid on the lake loop. As they round a patch of reeds, the taller man points out onto the sparkling water. 

“What kind of ducks are those?”

“Wood Ducks” he replies softly, then laughs to himself, “you must really like ‘em, they were one of the first things you ever, uh, ever asked me about.”

“Really? I suppose that makes sense, their coloration is stunning.”

“Yeah.” Duck watches the two birds paddling on the water; he can’t be certain, but he thinks they’re the same mated pair that fascinated Indrid two years ago. The memory of Indrid, voice curious and shy rather than taunting, asking Duck what the bird was over the phone makes him ache down to his neurons. 

“I’m sorry, Duck. I know this cannot be easy on you.” Indrid is watching him through his slightly tinted tortoiseshell glasses, “to have to wait for me to fall in love with you again.”

“‘Drid” Duck takes him by his shoulders so they’re face to face, “I can’t lie for shit, so I ain’t gonna say I don’t wake up everyday hopin you remember me. But what I want outta all of this is for you to be happy, to have whatever kind of life feels right to you. Even if we don’t end up together in it or I, uh, I ain’t in at all.”

Strangely, Indrid smiles, soft and bright, as the admission hangs between them. Then he cups Duck’s cheek and leans down, kissing Duck so lightly that it’s only the sensation of too-cold hands on his skin that let’s Duck know he isn’t dreaming. 

“Wha-”

“It just felt right.” Indrid smiles wider, and holds a little tighter, wondering if this is it.

His phone rings, the tone that signals “shits going down, suit up.”

“Fuck.” He grabs it, brings it to his ear “go for Duck”

“It’s the fucking White Star boys again. They’re threatening to set off a bomb from the top of the GreenBriar Mall and are causing a major scene downtown.” From the sound of it, Barclay is driving as he talks. 

“Fuck, okay, lemme get Indrid somewhere safe and I’ll be right there.”

“Somewhere safe? Duck, what’s going on.” Indrid pulls his sweater around himself

“Long story, swear to fuckin god I’ll tell you later, now come on.” They run back to the car and Duck floors it out onto the highway. The nearest safehouse is close to the mall, so he can drop Indrid there, change, and go help his friends. 

This plan goes up in a literal cloud of smoke as cylinder hits the hood of the car, releasing a black cloud and causing Duck to careen into a fire hydrant. 

“Guess we’re closer to the whole mess than I thought.” He grumbles, grabbing his spare mask from the glove box and ripping off his shirt to reveal his hero garb underneath, “you okay?”

“Not really, as we just crashed and there is a lot of yelling happening outside.”

Duck takes his hand, “It’s probably obvious, but I’m a superhero, and a bunch of dipshits are tryin to blow up innocent folks. Stay close to me, I’ll try’n get you somewhere safe and come find you after this is taken care off.”

Indrid does not look convinced, holds onto Duck’s hand like he’ll be sucked up into space if he lets go. 

“It’ll be okay, ‘Drid. I promise.”

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

He focuses on Duck’s hand as they run, as if the link between them is enough to keep him safe. The chaos around them, the shouting and dust and disaster in the air, it all feels familiar. Then again, of his boyfriend is a superhero, maybe Indrid’s been in this situation before. 

Duck’s fingers are ripped from his own as the hero is tackled by a bulked-up man with a white star on his back. They two grapple on the ground, rolling out of sight in the surrounding smoke. Before he can call out, pain shatters through the back of his head and he hits the ground, pavement scraping his hands. He flips over, finds another starred man sneering down at him. 

“There you are. We all had bets going on whether the good doctor killed you with that ray.”

“I” Indrid scrambles back on his hands, head ringing too hard for him to stand up, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play dumb, Cold. Everyone knows where the Knight is, you’re right behind him like some weird fucking shadow.”

“I’m not, I swear, please, I have no idea what’s going on.”

The man hits a button on his belt, and a short staff, covered in what looks like sci-fi barbed wire, springs into his hand. 

“Let me tell you, then: you’re a pain in the ass, and I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

“Wait, please” his hand connects with something cold, and his fingers tell him it’s a bit of broken pipe. 

“Oh yeah, it’s gonna be fun to squash you like the bug you are.”

Indrid watches him raise the weapon. His fingers curl around the pipe. 

And he lets instinct take over.

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

Most of the mob scatters as soon as Aubrey gets the smoke under control, but some of the more determined White Star Boys put up a fight. Duck throws one off of him, turns towards the commotion of two more fighting-

Oh fuck.

“Indrid!” He runs towards the melee, then skids to a stop as his boyfriend takes one down with a skilled, precise blow to the head. The lands a cut on his cheek with a Bowie knife and Indrid snarls, whirling to break the offending hand and knocking the man’s head to the side with the lead pipe he’s using as a staff. 

The man goes down, hands weakly covering his face, and Indrid hits him again. And again. 

“Moth, for fucks sake, stop! He’s down, you don’t gotta kill him!”

Indrid locks eyes with Duck, tilts his blood-spattered head to the side.

“You have the wrong villain, hero. I am The Sword. And you are in my way.”

Indrid lunges and Duck braces to take the hit that never comes. There’s hissing and cursing from above him, and he looks up to see Indrid trapped in red light.

“I came to help the Lady Flame” The Quell regards Indrid with sorrowful eyes, “but it seems we have a far worse problem than those little  power-mad stars.”

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

“He’s much quieter than his brother” Stern stands outside the Pine Guard holding cell with Duck, while Indrid sits calming inside, eyes shut as if in sleep, “The Flame monologues whenever he gets a chance.”

“Of all the goddamn parts of his life to remember” Duck clonks his head into the wall. 

“I called every specialist on our roster; the consensus is that one of the white star boys must have attacked him. In moments of that kind of intense stress and fear, sometimes people revert back to what they first learned. In Indrid’s case, it was his training to be the perfect villain.”

Duck grunts in acknowledgement, keeps his head on the wall so he doesn’t have to look at the man he loves reverted to his worst instincts. 

“I promise we’ll take good care of him until our next move becomes clear.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

The agent takes a final look through the glass, “We’ll get him back somehow. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

They’ve just reached the parking lot when alarms sound and lights flash, Joe’s communicator ringing like mad. He looks at it and blanches. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Indrid got out?” It’d be the perfect, shitty cap to a perfectly shitty day.

“Yes. Do you want me to call in back-up?”

Duck shakes his head, “No. I was real good at huntin’ down the Moth. Think I can find The Sword the same way.”

He doesn’t add, as Joe wishes him good luck, that he has a horrible feeling he already knows where Indrid is. 

Unlocking the apartment door, he takes two steps before his own SmartWhips close around his torso and arms. Indrid steps out of the hall, grinning at him.

Duck sighs, “Yeah. That’s why I figured.”

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

Indrid studies the trapped hero, wondering if he should ask him the main question  on his mind, which is whether this location they’ve been pretending is an apartment is Indrid’s hide-out or his. He’s been searching it for twenty minutes and even with his foresight back he cannot tell. He did find his staffs, smart glasses that are confusingly red rather than silver, and a set of wings he knows are based on a prototype of his. 

But that is not the most important question to his mission. 

“Where is The Flame?”

Duck shakes his head, “Not tellin you. You were the smartest villain I ever faced, Indrid, and I don’t doubt you could bust him out no problem. But you and I both know you don’t want that.”

“It is my duty to free my partner. It is for the best.”

“Is it really? You honestly tellin me you wouldn’t be happier far, far away from that brother of yours?”

Indrid forces his face to stay calm, but his guts twist; how could Duck know how often he wishes Apollo would go on a mission and never come back, or just leave him be for a few days so he could do something, anything other than villainy.

“You know nothing of my brother.”

“The last time he saw you, he tried to blow you up, tortured me, and then tried to kill in some weird trainin arena. He’s a cruel, egotistical dipshit.” 

“That...that sounds exactly like him. Very well, maybe you do know what you are talking about. So tell me where he is, and I will not be forced to get the information from you another way.”

Duck squirms, afraid, but stays silent. Indrid hauls his to his feet.

“Tell me where he is.”

“No. Let him rot, it’s what he deserves.”

“What he deserves is immaterial. What matters is he will get out one way or another and if he does it without my help he will-”

Duck gives a knowing look. Indrid huffs, drops him back to the ground. 

“Nevermind.”

“He’ll hit you with that lightning rod of his? Or threaten to drown you, like he did that time in, uh, in Kansas City?”

“Would you kindly shut up so I can think?” Indrid turns on his heel, begins pacing. Duck knows a great deal, which means Indrid must have confided in him at some point, likely before he lost his memory. Maybe he was interrogated by him? But even then it doesn’t make sense; Indrid can withstand any kind of torture. Well, almost any kind.

Why on earth did he tell the hero those things?

He spots the rat run, the little black one (Void, that was what Duck called him) sending demanding squeaks his way through the plexiglass. Indrid leans down, touching his fingertip to the glass to mirror the placement of the rat’s paw.

“I wonder if I could take you with me. Doubtless you would make a skilled minion.”

“‘Drid, the scariest thing he’s ever done is wear those glasses that make him look like a giant monster rat to scare off intruders.”

“What part of ‘shut up’ was unclear, chivalrous one?” Indrid glances over his shoulder, finds the hero sitting up with a hopeful expression.

“That nickname. ‘Drid, it’s the first time you called me that since you lost your memory. Do you remember anythin’ else about that name, about why you call me it?”

He thinks, gets flashes of images that he’s certain are the past, not the future; Duck, the Green Knight, throwing him out a window, chasing him from warehouses, trapping him in those blasted SmartWhips. Oh yes, he remembers him now.

“You. You are my nemesis.” 

“Uh, I was, but-”

Indrid laughs, high and sharp to cover the disappointment in his chest, “Oh that is diabolical. I lose my memory and what do you all do? You put me in the hands of my nemesis, convince me that I had a life with someone who cared for me as if that could change my nature. Not even I could concoct a plan that cruel, chivalrous one.”

“Indrid, please, you gotta remember the rest.”

“I do not need to do any such thing. But it does change what I do with you.” He stalks forward, wrenching Duck up by his hair. 

The whips close around his wrists, trapping them together. 

“Let me go this instant!”

“No can do, sugar. I ain’t gonna fight you, but I ain’t gonna let you hurt me, or anyone else.”

“You” Indrid sees the explanation coming, “you stole one of my smart picks! You are as bad as Apollo is!”

“Trust me, I ain’t.”

Indrid tries to hurl him against the counter, but Duck holds fast, causing the villain to simply unfurl the whip some. The hero giggles, quiet at first, then growing louder.

“Christ, it’s like fuckin deja vu, you and me bein like this. At least I did it on purpose this time.”

The villain is about to snap that there’s nothing funny about being trapped with one’s nemesis. Then the memory comes, he and Duck taken from enemies to allies in an instant as they tried to undo the malfunctioning smartwhip trapping them together. The night, about a week later, when Duck sent a spy B.U.G just to make sure Indrid wasn’t too badly hurt from a fight. 

The Green Knight, looking after the Moth as if he was a friend, not a villain. 

The Moth. He’s the Moth.

He surges forward, slamming his lips against Ducks mouth. The hero gasps, bound hands gripping the front of Indrid’s black shirt.

“My love, my love, Duck, I’m sorry, I am so sorry, one moment, I can get us unraveled.” He kisses him again, his mind and body registering the full weight of almost a month without his hero’s touch.

“Please tell me this means what I think it does” he mumbles into Indrid’s mouth.

“It does my love. More or less. Things are not coming back in a linear fashion, but it feels as if my memories have all awakened and will be in order eventually. I, I feel like myself, my full self, again.”

“Thank sweet baby christ, fuck” Duck huddles close, shoulders shaking, “didn’t know how much longer I could stay calm, you’re fuckin terrifyin  when you want to be.”

“Oh, oh dear, apologies” The whips drop to the ground, “I did not remember, I, I was more lethal, more willing slash and burn when I was The Sword, I never wanted you to be on the receiving end of that, oh goodness, I’m so sorry, my sweet.” He holds Duck to him, buries his face in his hair when he thinks of what he might have done.

“You’re back.” Duck presses a kiss to his neck, “you’re back. That’s all that matters, fuck, I missed you so much.”

Indrid shuts his eyes, holds fast to the man who makes his mind sing “home” with every beat of his heart.

“I missed you too, chivalrous one.”

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

Dr. Amig Dahlia prowls towards her laboratory. The Pine Guard brought her latest scheme crashing down, and it’s high time to make them all into blank slates, the way she did with the meddlesome Moth. At least he’s still nowhere to be found.”

“Hello, doctor.”  

Seated directly in front of the memory ray is none other than The Moth. He stands, patting the ray, “this is a very clever device, and had it not made my life, and the lives of others, miserable, I might applaud you for it. As it is, I am here to demand you disable it, and turn yourself in.”

“Last I checked, my ray didn’t damage your intelligence, so that idiotic idea must be all yours.”

The Moth cocks his head, “Is that a no?”

In answer, she steps forward, pressing in the sequence to arm the device. 

The hero stays put, right in it’s path, “firing on me will not end well. I  modified your device while you were distracted by my teammates. It will backfire when you pull the trigger”

“Nice try,but you’ll need a more convincing lie to get out of this one.” The lights on the side of the ray turn green. 

The wide smile changes, all ice and edges, “Before you make your choice, consider this; Because of you, I almost hurt the man I love.”

She rolls her eyes, touches the trigger, and white light explodes all around her.

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

“What did you do to that ray?” Duck stands next to him as they watch medics help a sobbing Amig Dahlia into an ambulance. 

“In addition to reversing the direction of the energy, I changed how it interacts with memory; instead of blanketing them over it pulls certain ones out and plays them on repeat. Namely, it pulls out those memories one would most like to forget.”

“Jesus.”

“Believe it or not, the futures show this being an exercise in empathy. The effects are not permanent, and when she comes out of them she will swear off villainy and move to Key West.”

He does not add that this seems a fitting quid pro quo for the fact recovering from her device means memories of his childhood appear without warning more than they usually do.

Duck is no longer beside him. There’s a metallic crack, and the hero drops the two halves of the ray on the ground. 

“Just to be safe.”

“A wise idea, chivalrous one.”

They finish up at the hidden lab, and the Moth and The Green Knight disappear into the Pine Guard base. Twenty minutes later, Indrid Cold and Duck Newton step inside their home. It’s warm and comfortable, bustling with love and promise. 

Just like Indrid remembers. 

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Hey there! Could you maybe do toasted marshmallows, bonfire, and see your breath in the air as as prompt for whoever? If not that's totally fine. Your stuff is all really good and brightens my day all the time! I'm so excited that you have that masterlist now! Have a great night!

Drinking is mentioned.

The sun peeked through the trees as a light breeze swept through the yard. Race gazed up at the old house he and Spot had purchased a couple of years ago. They had spent the morning raking leaves, only for their dog, Spud, to jump in them and make a mess. And now it was time to sit, relax, and enjoy the gorgeous day.

October was here and it was the perfect day for a bonfire in the yard. With mugs of hot apple cider, Race sat in a lounge chair while Spot got to work building the fire. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I mean it’s not hard to catch some leaves on fire before putting some wood on top.” Spot grinned. “Besides, unlike you, I did a few years of Scouts and the number one rule of Scouts is Be Prepared!”

Race chuckled. “Just get the fire started, Spottie. I need my heater over here to keep me warm. And your apple cider is getting cold.”

They both waited several seconds with baited breath before the leaves caught fire along with several sticks that were thrown in the fire pit. “Ha, in your face Racetrack. Doubting my skills.”

“Alright, my Mr mighty fire builder, come over here and keep me warm.” Race opened his arms for Spot to crawl into his lap as he nestled his head into Spot’s warm chest. “We should roast marshmallows.”

Spot chuckled. “That sounds like a plan. Let the fire die down some and we can do that. Is there anything else we need to do today?”

“Nope. Chili is simmering on the stove, fire built, Spud’s down for the count. Kat and Jack said they might stop by later along with Blink, Mush, Albert and Finch.” Race sighed in contentment.

Taking a sip of his apple cider, Spot nodded. “Sounds like a solid Saturday afternoon.”

They both watch Spud wiggle next to them in the grass with a laugh before hearing a car door slam. Spud was on his feet barking heading to the front of the house before either of them could move.

They waited for whoever had arrived to make their appearance. In the meantime, Spot leaned down and kissed Race. “Happy autumn, snookums.”

“It’s been a pretty spectacular day, huh?” Race grinned, seeing his brother and Kat walk around the corner of the house with Spud at their heels.

“Hey you two.” Jack yelled, as Spud took something from Kat’s hand and went to lay down. “Yard looks good.”

Spot gave him a look. “Thanks but you’re rewarding the dog that messed it up this morning.”

“In what way?” Kat gave him a look, sitting in one of the chairs around the fire pit.

Race watched Spud chew on the rawhide that the two had brought him before looking at the happy couple. “We were raking leaves and mister decided to run through them and make a mess. It’s a good thing we love him.”

“Awww he probably didn’t mean to.” Kat reached over and gave him belly rubs.

Spot and Race both chuckled, shaking their heads at how spoiled their dog is by friends and family. “What have you guys been up to?”

“She made me clean bathrooms today.” Jack cried dramatically, giving his wife a look. “Other than that we went to the farmer’s market before coming here.”

Race patted Jack’s shoulder sympathetically. “I feel your pain, Jackie. Spottie makes me clean the bathrooms too.”

“Would you rather wash floors or dust?” Kat gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. “You complain when I make you wash dishes or vacuum. You’re pitching in around the house, somehow - laundry, vacuum, dusting, or bathrooms. Pick your poison.”

Spot gave Race a look. “Don’t give me that look - you’re in the same boat as your brother. Pick your poison.”

Kat held her arm up for a high five as Spot obliged. Jack and Race looked at their spouses. “I believe we’ve been set up.”

“Way to go Captain Obvious.” Spot grinned at his beloved before looking at Jack and Kat. “Pleasure doing business with you Kat!”

They heard more car doors close as Jack looked at the two. “Expecting more people?”

“As our house usually is, it was an open invite. We texted you two but I may have let it slip to Albert and Blink as well.” Race grinned, watching the two walk around the corner of the house with their better halves. “Hey guys! We have chili simmering on the stove and s’more stuff for later.”

Greetings and hugs were exchanged before everyone got cozy around the fire, which Spot had put another two logs on. Race tilted his head back and blew air from his mouth grinning. “Hey I can see my breath.”

“How old are you again?” Albert asked, giving his best friend a look.

Race stuck out his tongue and laughed. “Today, I’m 6 but on a normal day, 25.”

The group laughed, while Spot nestled deeper into Race’s lap. A discussion about football started up. The local university was playing away that day so Albert and Blink had their phones out with the updates coming through.

Race stood up from the chair, gently depositing Spot in the chair before backing Kat to come with him into the house. He went to the stove and stirred the chili and gave her a look. “Will you gather the stuff for s‘mores?”

They were silent as they attended both of their tasks - him gathering stuff for chili while she found all the s‘ more stuff. “Race, how’s it going?”

“Good. We have a home visit next week and that’s the last step before we’re officially adoptive parents. Once that’s done, we can start adopting or foster.” Race grinned, as she stopped and hugged him.

“That’s so exciting. You two have been waiting for this for the last two years.” She grinned. “Are you going to foster or go right into adoption?”

Race grabbed a few bowls from the cupboard before shrugging. “I think we’re leaning toward adoption but there’s quite a waitlist for adoption so we may foster first. We have an option where we could foster and adopt if it’s a right fit.”

“I’m excited for you two. Jack and I are here if you need anything.” Kat put everything on a tray before putting it on the kitchen table.

“Thanks. We really appreciate it. Your character reference letter you did for us was more than we could’ve asked for.” Race hugged her again

She grinned, swallowing the wave of emotion that surged through her. “You’re welcome. Jack and I’ll do anything for you and Spot.”

Race nodded, grabbing the sour cream and shredded cheese from the fridge before looking at the counter. “Can you let those yahoo’s know chili is ready?”

She walked out to the wrap around porch, yelling at the ones in the yard. He heard everyone before he could see them. They gathered around, grabbing bowls and ladling them up with chili and all the fixings. Spot pulled Race close, kissing him before grinning. “This looks good. Thanks for making it.”

Shouts of gratitude and thanks were yelled as everyone headed outside. Silence fell over the group as everyone dug. “That’s the best chili I’ve had.”

“Only because you didn’t have to make it.” Race quipped, giving Mush a look. “Besides, from what I’ve heard, you’re banned from the kitchen.”

Albert and Jack both chuckled. “Not sure why you’re laughing, boys. Heard you’re not allowed in either without supervision.”

“It was a teeny tiny fire.” Jack said before putting another spoonful in his mouth.

Spot raised an eyebrow. “Then why was the fire department called?”

“They were called for precaution. Just to make sure everything was alright.” Jack argued, giving the group a look. “I’m usually on grilling duty.”

“That way the house won’t explode.” Kat broke in as the entire group busted into laughter. “But I still love you, sweetie.”

Wiping tears from his eyes, Race grinned at Spot. “I guess I’m the lucky one that both of us can hold our own in the kitchen. And he bakes too.”

Blowing on his nails before buffing them on his shirt, Spot grinned. “Did you grab the cookies for tonight?”

“No, Kat grabbed all of the s’more stuff but I’ll grab them when I bring that stuff out.” Race promised, sighing in contentment.

Spot added a couple of pieces of wood to the fire. A conversation about work and future plans was started as Race and Spot started picking bowls and heading back into the house. “Will you grab a couple of blankets while I grab the s’more stuff?”

With a nod, Spot grabbed the clear bucket of bonfire blankets, meeting Race in the kitchen with a kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too Spottie.”

Heading back out, Race set the tray of s’more stuff on the little table before collapsing in a chair with a sigh. “There’s marshmallows, graham crackers, cookies, and various chocolate to make your own s’mores. The marshmallow sticks are in the bucket.”

“Thanks Race, Spot for hosting us.” Albert raised his beer bottle in thanks.

“Anytime.” Spot said grinning. “Actually, we might need your help soon.”

Albert raised an eyebrow with a grin. “Name it.”

“Race and I are thinking of putting in a garden in the back part of the property next spring. Something small to start but we might need your Rototiller to break up some of the grass and dirt.” Spot explained.

Albert nodded. “Yeah absolutely. Do you know what you want to plant?”

Albert and Finch had put in a garden over the summer and filled it with carrots, radishes, peppers, tomatoes, watermelon, and were currently growing pumpkins now. There had been many times that Albert and Finch had made dinner from the contents of their garden.

“We figured we’d start small, maybe carrots, lettuce, or radishes and go from there.” Race shrugged. “We want to be able to manage it and not have it take up every free second we have.”

Finch nodded. “Let us know when you want the rototiller and it’s yours.”

Race moved from the chair to grab a stick and a marshmallow before sitting closer to the fire. His tongue poked out of his mouth in concentration, as he slowly toasted his marshmallow for the perfect hue. “Just stick it in and burn it, Racer.”

“Just because you like tasting carbon when you eat your marshmallows, doesn’t mean the rest of us do.” Race gave Jack a look. “Besides, this is how I like my s'mores .”

Spot had two graham crackers and a piece of chocolate waiting for him as he pulled his marshmallow from the fire. “Look at that beauty! Stunning work of art.”

He crafted his s’more before taking a bite and moaning in delight. “Pure Heaven, right here.”

The rest of the group made their s’mores, Jack critiquing their marshmallow toasting strategies. “If you think you can do it any better, how about you roast one youself, Jackie.”

“Maybe I will.” Jack stood up, grabbing a stick and a marshmallow before sticking it in the fire for a few seconds, waiting for it to catch fire before pulling it out and extinguishing the side by blowing on it. “Ta da!”

Spot and Race both cracked up laughing at the black, burnt marshmallow. “Any monkey could do that. It takes skill and determination to make a marshmallow as perfect as mine.”

Jack gave him a look. “Well we can’t all be as tedious as you are.”

“Thank goodness for that. There’s room for only one Racer in the world.” Albert grinned, nudging his best friend.

Race laughed, nodding. “Thanks Al.”

“We were all thinking it, I just said it.” Albert smirked.

The rest of the night was spent trading stories around the fire while toasting marshmallows, enjoying each other’s company. Laughter lit up the night like the flames. It was a great night and one that Race would look back on with nothing but fondness.

Thanks @deliciouspeachpirate for the prompt. Hope you enjoy it!!!

[myemergence]

True Love (is a Slow Burn)

A/N:submission for Buddie First Kiss Week @buddiefirstkissweek. Prompt: Interrupted. You can read it over on AO3 here

Buck tags along on the Diazes father/son camping trip.

Thanks to Nicole for the beta!

**

“Do you need anything else out of the cooler?” Eddie asks as he bends down and grabs a beer for himself as dusk settles in. The campground is quiet aside for a few families gathered around their own fires. “A beer?”

“Nah, I’ll wait till Chris is in bed,” Buck says with a small shrug of his shoulder, relaxing into the  chair as he stretches his legs out in front of him.

Eddie chuckles as he glances to where Christopher is reclined in his own camping chair. “Suit yourself,” he says before he settles back into the empty chair beside Christopher. “Hey bud, you ready to show Buck how to make the  best  s’mores?”

Buck’s not oblivious to the fact that he’s playing the third wheel on a father-son camping trip as the result of a lie. A white lie. A tiny fib, really. He also knows that he should feel guilty about it, at least a tiny morsel of regret. But being in their presence makes it hard for Buck to feel guilty for how he ended up being included. 

Buck shifts in his chair and looks over at Eddie who’s pulled marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate out for assembling the s’mores. “I’ve never actually had s’mores before, but just tell me what I can do to help.”

“Bucky! You’ve never had s’mores?” There’s a tiny shake to his head. He wants to point out that at least this is not a lie, but he decides it would probably be a terrible time to out himself. Christopher’s eyes brighten then. “They’re the best part of camping! And we get to show you.” 

His excitement is contagious and Buck can only grin back at him.

Eddie laughs as he opens the bag of marshmallows before handing it to Chris who takes one and pops it in his mouth before offering a few to Buck. “Is that really your favorite part of camping, mijo? What about sleeping in a tent? Or sitting around the campfire?”

Chris shrugs before he slides the marshmallows onto the forks. Eddie opens up the graham crackers and breaks the wafers in half so that they’re square. “You make s’mores around a campfire. So it’s my favorite because s’mores are the best  and  we get to sit around the campfire.”

“Very clever, Chris.” Buck laughs.

“Alright,” Eddie says seriously as he slides his eyes over to Buck, “so you’ve never made smores before, do you have any experience toasting marshmallows?”

“Of course I do, who hasn’t toasted a marshmallow before?” Buck scoffs.

Eddie’s brow raises. “Maybe the same kind of person who’s never gone camping.” Buck’s eyes dance with mirth before he takes the cool metal stick in his hands. Wordlessly, Buck scoots forward on his chair and shoves the two bright white marshmallows into the flames until they ignite. He pulls them out of the blaze, holding the stick upside down until both marshmallows are completely engulfed in flames. “What the- I thought you said you’d toasted marshmallows before?!”

“Uh, this is how you toast a marshmallow.” Buck looks down at the marshmallow, waiting for the fire to dissipate. The outsides of the marshmallows are charred black.

“Wow, I feel like I never knew you until today, Buck,” he says. “You’re a monster. Why don’t you just scoop up the coals from the firepit while you’re at it? I’m sure those will taste great in a s’more.” Buck smirks as he looks over at Eddie while Christopher giggles loudly in his seat.

“Can I try one?” Christopher asks.

“Christopher, you know how marshmallows are supposed to be:  golden brown .”

“Eddie, are you going to deny your son this  experience ?” After another moment of allowing them to cool off Buck slides the marshmallows off of the fork and extends one to Christopher.

“You’ve ruined my son now.” Eddie huffs like he’s pouting, but the look in his eyes is light and fond. Buck pops the marshmallow into his mouth to hide another smile as he looks over at Christopher.

“Well?” Buck asks and Christopher offers a thumbs up in reply.

“You’re going to learn to make s’mores and toast marshmallows, the right way.” Eddie tosses the bag of marshmallows at Buck so that he can take a couple more and replace the ones that he’d charred and eaten. “Chris you wanna put them together for us?” After Chris nods, Eddie gives him the graham crackers and chocolate. He uses a fire poker to adjust the logs so that he has a calm area of coal to use. “Come on Buckley, out of your chair.”

Buck groans dramatically. “Is he always like this?” 

When the response is another peal of giggles, Eddie slides his eyes over to his son. “Christopher,” he scolds teasingly.

“Come on, these marshmallows aren’t going to make themselves golden brown.” 

Buck moves out of his chair and walks over to Eddie with a roll of his eyes. “So it’s your way or the highway?”

“Is that an actual question?” Eddie laughs as he hovers the marshmallows over the coals, and Buck feels Eddie’s eyes on him as he settles beside him. Eddie carefully turns his marshmallows to make sure no side gets too dark.

“This is taking too long,” Buck whines after a minute, following Eddie’s lead and turning his marshmallows as well. “It’s so much faster to just set them on fire.”

“Good things come with time, Ev,” Eddie chuckles. “Haven’t you ever heard of a slow burn?”

The words catch Buck off guard and he lets out a throaty laugh. “Everyone hates a slow burn,” he finally mutters. His gaze flits over Eddie’s face, not missing the quiet way that he’s biting down on his lower lip, or the reserved look on his face. Like he wants to say something but is holding back.

Buck opens his mouth to say something, but Christopher interrupts asking if the marshmallows are ready yet and the moment slips away. “Incoming,” Eddie announces as he stands upright, moving over to Christopher and making the first of the smores.

Eddie and Buck each toast a few more marshmallows until they settle in their chairs, enjoying the s’mores. “These are amazing,” Buck manages before he goes in for another bite of the sweet treat.

“Best part of camping?” Chris asks.

“It’s too early to say,” Buck smiles. “Ask me when we’re packing up tomorrow.” Christopher stifles a yawn, which he tries to hide from his dad. Eddie notices and glances down at his watch.

“Mijo, you look like you’re getting sleepy and it’s past bedtime. Why don’t we take you to brush your teeth and get you all tucked in?”

“But Dad-” 

“I’m making a killer breakfast tomorrow, and we need to be out of here by 11. Which means you have to be up early to eat, yeah?” Buck asks with a smile. Without any further argument they get Christopher ready for bed and tucked in.  

“You gonna turn in early?” Buck asks as he walks over to the cooler and grabs a beer for himself and Eddie shakes his head. “You want a beer?” Eddie folds up Christopher’s camping chair and puts it away.

“Yeah I’ll take a beer,” Eddie says. “And for the record?  The last night of camping is the best night to stay up way too late.” He settles back into his chair and takes the beer that Buck offers to him. Buck notices for the first time that, in the absence of Christopher’s smaller chair, the armrest of his chair presses against Eddie’s.

Buck takes a few swigs of his beer as he watches the fire and listens to the light crackling of the campfire in front of them. This is so quiet, so peaceful. Being with the Diaz boys is exactly where Buck feels he belongs most in the world. “He had a great time. You’re really good at this-- at finding these special ways to bond with Chris. He’s lucky to have you.”

Eddie tilts his head slightly to look at Buck. “He’s lucky to have you, Buck. I’m his dad, he’s stuck with me for life.” Eddie chuckles into the otherwise quiet air, a random crackle sounding as embers float up from the fire every few seconds. “You choose to be in his life, in our lives. I’m glad that you came with us this weekend.”

Buck isn’t sure what to say to that. He knows that Eddie’s been trying harder lately to verbalize his emotions instead of keeping a top on them and the difference is obvious to Buck. There’s less tension in his shoulders than there used to be and his smiles reach his eyes again. “I’m glad, too. Even if I did bait you into bringing me.”

“You’d never been camping before, man.” Eddie shrugs like that explains everything. He feels a small twinge of guilt at Eddie’s words.

“This isn’t actually my first time camping,” Buck admits, his voice barely above a whisper before he takes a swig for beer. “It’s my second.”

“But you said-”

“I know. I know what I said.”

“You lied?” Silence falls between them and Buck thumbs over the label on his beer bottle. He drags his fingernail under the label, trying to figure out how to answer Eddie. “Why?”

Buck sighs as he rests his free hand against the armrest. “I don’t know, Eds, I-” he leans his head back then, glancing up at the darkened sky, eyes settling on a grouping of stars above. “I guess I just didn’t think you’d want me to tag along otherwise.  This is your time with Chris, and I shouldn’t have tricked you into inviting me.”

Buck hears Eddie shift in the seat next to him. “Is that what you think happened? That you  bullied  your way into an invitation?” Buck doesn’t move, he keeps his eyes fixed on the star-covered blanket above them, focusing on keeping his breathing slow and controlled so that it doesn’t betray him. “Ev,” Eddie whispers, fingers brushing against Buck’s wrist, sending a jolt through him. “We invited you because we wanted you here.”

“After I told you that I’d never camped before.”

“Yeah, but we were planning on asking you all along,” Eddie says softly, pausing as he seems to be pulling together his own thoughts. “Can I ask you what your first camping trip was like?”

They were planning on asking him all along?  Buck swallows hard as he tries to hold it together. He wonders what exactly he’d ever done to deserve to be treated as an unofficial member of the Diaz family. Sometimes the longing to be a part of their family was all-consuming, and he had to force himself to take a step back. This time he wasn’t able to take that step back,  he was greedy -- taking more than was his-- and they had planned to offer it to him all the same.

“Nothing like this weekend,” he says, “I went on a camping trip with my ex once, when I was like twenty, maybe twenty-one. We’d been together for a few months and he thought it would be a great idea to go away from the weekend. I’ve never argued with a person more than I did that weekend, ya know? Over putting up the tent, he was miserable about the bugs, sleeping on the floor. I just can’t recall a single happy memory from it. People always talk about going camping with their families. I was always kind of jealous of that because I never had that experience. Thank you for letting me pretend for the weekend.”

“Sounds like it was pretty miserable,” Eddie hums, his thumb brushing against Buck’s wrist again, causing Buck’s heart rate to spike. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t pretended anything this weekend. You belong here as much as Chris and I do.”

Buck's breathing becomes more shallow with Eddie’s thumb resting against his pulse point. The heat feels like it’s going to sear a hole in the skin there. Buck hopes that it does so Eddie can seep into his bloodstream and live there; live in this moment and this feeling forever. He’s afraid to turn and look at Eddie, afraid of what he’ll see if he does. So he keeps his eyes focused on the campfire in front of them, swallowing hard against the feelings pressing harder into his chest that don’t want to remain dormant anymore.

His tongue darts out and wets his suddenly dry bottom lip. Buck feels a languid sweep of a finger against his jawline. He turns his head towards Eddie and looks into his hazel eyes, realizing his face is only inches away now.  “E-Eddie,” Buck’s voice cracks. He slips his beer carefully into the cupholder as his sole focus shifts to Eddie. His finger traces along Buck’s jawline again and Buck has a moment of denial, sure that he’s imagining this. After all this time, after all of their tiptoeing around each other there is no way that they’re going to take this next step.

Except they are. 

Buck reaches out a hand and gently cradles Eddie’s jaw, his thumb moving in a pattern similar to Eddie’s, hesitant. He watches the way that Eddie leans into his own hand slightly and being able to see Eddie’s reaction helps to settle Buck’s nerves, just a little. His eyes flutter closed as he angles in towards Eddie, feeling the whisper of Eddie’s breath against his face. The scent is a mix of beer, s’mores, and something that can only be described as Eddie. Their lips remain a hair’s breadth away, lingering there in the quiet, the only sound being the sporadic pop from the burning logs on the fire.

“Dad!” They both pull back slightly, the moment shattered. Eddie lets out an uneven breath, and Buck’s eyes widen slightly now that the promise of finally kissing Eddie has slipped away. “DAD! I have to pee!” Christopher calls from the tent that’s only a short distance away, his voice breaking them away from their silent trance.

“I-I’ll be right there, Christopher,” Eddie chokes out and he offers Buck a nervous smile as he moves to the tent. Buck watches as Eddie helps Christopher out of the tent to take him to the bathroom. Buck drops his head into his hands. His heart is thundering in his chest and his hands feel unsteady. 

The minutes drag on until Christopher and Eddie reappear and Buck smiles softly at them. Christopher walks over to Buck and wraps his arms around his neck. “Hey, what’s that for?” 

“I’m glad you came with us, Bucky.”

“Me too, kid. Me too.” He places a soft kiss on the crown of Christopher’s head.

“Come on, mijo, back to bed.” 

Christopher sighs unhappily and mutters, “Okay, Dad.”

Eddie returns a few moments later, and he seems to sit down beside him with uncertainty this time. He looks nervous, eyes focused anywhere that isn’t Buck’s face. Buck studies him, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Maybe he regrets making the first move. Maybe he’s thinking of all the reasons this can’t happen, the prospect of ruining their friendship. Maybe it’s better that it didn’t happen.

Maybe.

Buck wants to look away, wants to pretend the bubble didn’t completely break when Christopher called for Eddie. As much as he wants that, Eddie’s features tell him otherwise. There’s a hard set to his jaw and his brow is furrowed as he stares into the flames.

“Buck, I’m sorry,” he says finally. Buck’s eyes close briefly and he watches as a mask of regret washes over him. “I shouldn’t have-”

“I’m not.” The words stumble out before he can reign them back in.

“What?”

“I’m not sorry,” Buck says quietly as he studies Eddie. For the first time since he rejoined Buck by the campfire, Eddie turns his head and actually looks at Buck. He sees worry etched in Eddie’s features and Buck wants to reach out to smooth his thumb over the creases, a promise that everything’s okay.

“You’re not sorry?”

“I’m not,” Buck reiterates firmly. He knows it’s a risk, but it’s one that he has to take. “I’m only sorry that Chris had to pee.” He watches as the hard lines disappear, a quiet snicker slipping past Eddie’s lips. Buck places his hand over Eddie’s lightly, his thumb tracing an invisible line.

“So you’re really not…” Eddie trails off slowly, eyes lowering to where Buck is rubbing his thumb against Eddie’s forearm and wrist. “You’re not having second thoughts?”

“I’ve wanted this for…” Buck lets out a breath nervously as he turns his body completely towards Eddie. “For longer than I’d care to admit. I never even knew that this was on the table, but now that I  know that it is, Eddie. I don’t want to unthink it. Unless,” he pauses, observing Eddie’s reaction, “that’s what you need from me.

“No, I—no.”

“Okay, then…” Buck nods slightly, reaching out a hand to cradle Eddie’s face. “I’m going to kiss you now.” 

When he leans into Eddie’s space, their noses brush lightly and he hears Eddie’s breath hitch. Buck slides his other hand up Eddie’s arm until it rests at the nape of his neck, urging Eddie closer. Eddie’s reaction to his touch is all of the encouragement that Buck needs, capturing Eddie’s lips with his own. The kiss is firm and needy, Buck’s tongue pressing against Eddie’s lower lip. 

Eddie’s groan is muffled by Buck’s lips, parting his lips without further prompting. The positioning is awkward in the camping chairs, trying to stay connected and press further into each other to eliminate any offensive space. Buck nearly grumbles as their lips part. He moves out of his chair, crouching down in front of Eddie’s chair so that they’re level. Before Buck can move any closer, he feels Eddie’s hand grab his t-shirt by fistfuls, dragging him closer until his weight crushes against Eddie, lips and hands exploring. Buck finally breaks the kiss, breathless as he leans his forehead against Eddie’s, hand resting against Eddie’s chest, feeling his heart thrumming rapidly beneath his fingertips.

“Well…” Buck whispers breathlessly, dragging his fingers through his hair in an attempt to compose himself.

Eddie grins at him then and Buck considers kissing him again, but forces himself to remain upright and not move back into his space. “Still think you don’t belong here?”

Buck hums. “I’m not sure I’m convinced yet,” he teases, his lips turning upward into a content smile. Eddie leans forward and places a chaste kiss against his lips. Buck’s sure as soon as Eddie’s lips sweep against his so tenderly that he’s never belonged so completely before; the missing piece in someone else’s life.