#pizza boy is the song that sort of got me into this mess actually

[hellkitepriest]

sometimes i have to take a second to think. fuck. my favourite band who i love too much and am emotionally attached to the music of has a song that goes I’ll Have A Coke I’ll Have A Pepsi Now. that’s really embarrassing

[sweetcheol]

college boyfriend!wonwoo

—genre: fluff

—au: college

—pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader

—song to listen to while reading: falling for u — seventeen

—word count: 2.9k words

—warning(s): mentions of sex, a bit of cursing. also i feel like this is a bit of a mess but so am i when thinking of wonu so

never, in your two years of university, had you actually met your best friend’s roommate

his name was wonwoo, and according to mingyu, he spent most of his time either in class or working as a waiter at a diner downtown

the only times he seemed to be home was either late at night, after you had either gone home or passed out on mingyu’s bed while he slept on the couch, or early in the morning, after you had gone to your own classes

which was weird considering how most of your days were either spent in class or in mingyu’s flat, as it was bigger and way more comfortable than your tiny dorm

you knew he existed, of course, because sometimes you’d come to find a hoodie of his lying on the couch

or a book neatly placed on the coffee table with a bookmark stuck somewhere past the middle

sometimes you’d even find a cup of half-drank coffee resting on the sink, a rarity considering just how neat mingyu’s roommate seemed to be

you’d seen him in pictures

he would be tagged in some instagram story drunk mingyu had posted when coming home from the club, the roommate rolling his eyes at the taller boy for making a mess as he entered the flat

or he would be smiling in a group picture taken at some birthday dinner with the rest of his and mingyu’s friends

and you had seen him in the portraits that hung in their living room; some of his and his family and some of his and his friends

and you had heard of him

oh boy had you heard of him

mingyu never really stopped bringing him up, blabbering about how wonwoo had accidentally opened the door to the bathroom while mingyu was showering (which was a big deal since mingyu had... broken the shower curtain a week before and still hadn’t gotten a replacement)

or talking about how he had almost choked on his soda after he was told his photos were selected to be exhibited at a showcase

and at that point, you were sure you were pretty much acquainted with him ... without even having said hello

but you had never actually seen him

and the first time you did, it was so rushed and chaotic, that it was almost as if you hadn’t (or at least, that’s what you would have wanted)

because you and your friends had gone out clubbing

and you had ended up drunk off your ass

which caused your roommate to call mingyu, the only person she could actually trust with your well-being in such a state, to pick you up because she was going off with someone for the night

and mingyu, being the loyal best friend he was, was left to deal with you and your nonsense

which included you practically screaming a very slurred “hey! you’re the roommate! dude, you’re cute!” to wonwoo as mingyu ushered you to his room

poor wonwoo was just coming out of his room when you had walked (kind-of) inside the flat, hair a mess with a big grin on your face (despite your now-ruined lipstick)

and it was a bit astounding at first

because wonwoo had never actually seen you either

he’d always thought it was weird, of course, because of the way mingyu always talked about you... he had always thought you two were pretty much a thing

it’s not like mingyu had ever spoken about you in that way, but the thought had planted itself in wonwoo’s head and now there was no way to shake it off

and the fact that he’d walked outside his room to find you and mingyu laughing and cooking breakfast together next morning didn’t help

because you had music playing and were lip syncing and smiling at each other

and wonwoo only whispered a quick “good morning” before he walked back inside his room with a glass of water in his hand

because well ... you were cute

but you were also with mingyu

and weirdly, after that night, the two of you started seeing each other almost everyday

turns out you shared not one, but two classes, and had not once noticed because you sat in opposite sides of the classroom

and you frequented the same coffee shop, almost always stopping by for your daily caffeine fix at the exact same time

and you were usually around the same spots in the library, faces way too deep in a book to ever notice the other

and well... you thought he was cute too

but he sort of, kind of, definitely avoided you whenever you saw him

he wasn’t rude or anything, but he’d never spend more than five minutes around you whenever you ran into him

not even when you laid in mingyu’s couch eating pizza and watching re-runs of your favorite dramas, because wonwoo basically chose to eat cold cereal alone in his room than to be around the two of you together

he was very observant, and in those few weeks, he had noticed you

like, really noticed you

and how you both enjoyed the same kind of books, drank your coffee exactly the same, listened to the same type of music and even had the same kind of humor

he noticed how similar you two were

he noticed how perfect you two went together

but you were with someone else already

except you noticed all of those things too

but once again, wonwoo avoided you like the plague

so that had to mean he didn’t like you, didn’t it?

it broke your heart when thinking about it

and you tried to ask mingyu but he was always like “nah, he doesn’t hate you. i think?”

so you were back to staring at him in class and hoping he wouldn’t turn around and catch you in the act

little did you know that you were slowly falling for each other

but being so similar, you tried your best not to think about the other

and as finals came around, it wasn’t that hard, because again, you both immersed yourselves in your academic lives so much it basically became your sole focus for that one period of time

until the boys went out to celebrate soonyoung’s a+ in his calculus test

and wonwoo saw mingyu make out with some girl in the middle of the dance floor

his hands balled into fists by his sides almost unconsciously, and he was 100% sure he would’ve gone and told mingyu off if only he wasn’t entrusted with dealing with a very drunk seungkwan, who was doing a very good job with keeping him occupied

because he kept trying to pick random sing offs with every single person his eyes fell on

and just because the rest of seungkwan’s roommates were equally drunk, he and jun had to spend the night at their place to make sure they were going to see the next day

but as soon as he went home the next morning and ran into a ... very shirtless mingyu, he went off

and boy did he go off

“how could you do that to (y/n)? do you even know how lucky you are? fuck, mingyu, you’re such an idiot. i swear, if you don’t go and apologize your ass off - no, actually don’t do that. you don’t deserve (y/n), you know? after what you did?”

and he just kept ... going

and poor mingyu was just staring at wonwoo as he blabbered whatever was on his mind at him and he was ??? so confused

“what the fuck are you even talking about?”

“i saw you! i saw you making out with that girl last night! and you brought her here, didn’t you?”

“well, yeah, but i-”

“see! that’s what i’m talking about! you cheated on (y/n) and go about it so casually, as if-”

“wait! cheated on (y/n)? wonwoo what the fuck?”

and mingyu ... he looks so lost that wonwoo would probably had just left if only he wasn’t so mad at him

because he was so, so, so head over heels for you

and the thought of you being hurt made his blood boil

“what does (y/n) have to do with this?”

“you’re their boyfriend! and you brought a girl home!”

“jesus fuck wonwoo, you got it all wrong! (y/n)’s my best friend! that’s it! we’re not dating, oh my god.”

and wonwoo was just ??? standing in the middle of the kitchen, face red, hands balled into fists and just about ready to swing at mingyu to defend your honor

and so it dawned upon mingyu. why would wonwoo even care? did you two even know each other?

“wait! do you like (y/n)?”

and wonwoo basically rolled his eyes at mingyu as he walked away and left the taller boy in the kitchen by himself

and well ... wonwoo didn’t know what to do

because he had tried to keep his feelings to himself for so long

and now they were basically fighting, with all their might, to come out

and he felt as if he was dreaming, or in some sort of daze, because before he could even realize, he was walking back into the kitchen and to a (still) very confused mingyu

“can you give me (y/n)’s number?”

mingyu nodded, still analyzing the situation, and handed him his phone with wonwoo’s yelling still buzzing in his ears

“i’m sorry, by the way”

and it must have been the remains of his sudden jolt of adrenaline, because his fingers were basically gliding over the keyboard as he texted you a sweet hi, it’s wonwoo. mingyu gave me your number, hope you don’t mind :)

you didn’t see the text until a little after when you woke up

because well... you’re so not a morning person

but when you looked up your phone you nearly passed out

because it was a text from wonwoo

your crush, who you could’ve sworn hated your guts before that morning

and you also had like 15 missed calls from mingyu and a very confusing text you didn’t even understand (something about him being scared? and demanding you to go to his apartment? in all caps?)

so you took a shower, got dressed (slightly more elegantly than you usually did when you hung out with mingyu) and went over to his flat

and to your surprise, it wasn’t mingyu who opened the door

it was wonwoo

he was smiling at you, and it was the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen

but then you heard mingyu’s voice from the kitchen

“thank god, go somewhere else and sort out whatever it is that’s going on before wonwoo actually punches me in the face”

and you were really confused

but didn’t fight wonwoo when he took your hand in his and guided you away from the apartment and to your usual coffee shop for you to have breakfast together

he told you everything over a plate of warm croissants and two iced americanos

his cheeks were tinted pink and he’s smiling in embarrassment, but his voice didn’t falter

because talking to you felt natural, as if he had been doing it for a long time

and you feel the exact same way

so you didn’t say anything when he held your hand over the table as you both talked about how funny mingyu must’ve looked when wonwoo went off at him

his cheeks were tinted red the whole time

that doesn’t change as you start going out

because even when he’s your boyfriend, you so much look in his direction and his face is flushed red

talking about that, nobody knew the two of you were dating at first

except for your (now traumatized) best friend

so when the boys were hanging out at mingyu’s apartment and you came out of wonwoo’s room with you very flustered boyfriend walking behind you, everybody was like ???

and it didn’t help that mingyu saw the two of you and went “not when i’m around for gods sake”

the boys looked so confused when wonwoo was like “oh, we’re dating”

because some of them knew you

“wait so... mingyu’s best friend... and his roomate...” followed by a giggle from the one and only yoon jeonghan

and a very loud whine from mingyu hehe

the tall puppy you call your best friend lays off it a few days afterwards

he’s still a little scared of wonwoo but it’s okay to him, because your boyfriend often uses it to his advantage

like the the time the two of you were cuddling on the couch, each with a book of your own, and mingyu kept going on and on about how the three of you should go out for some ice cream

and wonwoo stared at him like he did that one morning

“you know what? maybe jihoon wants to go get ice cream, enjoy the rest of your day”

but anyways

your relationship with wonwoo is really, really, really domestic

like the two of you spend way more time just cooking together and having deep-ass conversations in his bed while cuddling than anything else

one of your favorite things to do is laze around in sweatpants and hoodies while reading and listening to music

because if you basically lived in wonwoo’s apartment as mingyu’s best friend, you spend even more time there now that wonwoo’s your bf

he even cleared out one of his drawers for you because you kept on leaving clothes there every time you spent the night

mingyu even added you to the “neighbors!” chat after declaring you their unofficial third roommate lol 

you also go on plenty coffee dates

especially before class

and then when you get to your shared classes, hand in hand, people are like ??? were they dating ??? but don’t dwell on it too much bc you two do go along like two peas in a pod

study dates in which you two DO study but also have a great time

because you’re listening to music and helping each other revise over some snacks

talking about music, he’s always making you playlists

he’d literally be listening to any song and think of you, so he’d have like 15 playlists full of songs that “sound like you”, as he says

you’re always cracking jokes around the other

and people don’t get it sometimes

but you always do

so when you’re around the guys and woo cracks a joke that no one laughs at but you, he feels rather happy?

i mean he’s always like 🥰🥰🥰 anyways so

boy dresses so comfortably

that if you ever get to wear something of his, you’d be in heaven

he’s pretty tall ? and broad ? so his clothes fit you so so comfortably

and he gets super shy whenever you do but it also makes him so happy

especially if someone else notices

like if you go out late for dinner with him and gyu and wear something of his and mingyu goes like “isn’t that wonwoo’s hoodie?”, boy goes like 🥰🥰🥰 once more

i feel like the two of you don’t necessarily flaunt your relationship

since he’s pretty shy i don’t think he’d be into pda

but you’re always super close to each other

and if he feels comfortable enough, he’d hold your hand or put his arm around your shoulders

if you ever go on a night out together though

oh boy hehe

prepare for wonwoo’s hands to be on you at all times

especially when you’re both a little tipsy and in the middle of the dance floor

all of the guys would look be low-key scared at how close wonwoo and you are grinding dancing, completely lost in the music (and each other)

because it’s so much closer than what they’d ever imagine coming from the two of you

which prompted mingyu to be super awkward around you two for the following days hehe

talking about that, mingyu basically flees the apartment he hears even the faintest noise coming out of wonwoo’s bedroom

and idk i feel like, opposite to his usually quiet nature, he’d be pretty vocal in bed

super into dirty talk don’t even fight me on this

it’s more like super amped praising than actual dirty talk but still

loves it when you ride his thigh

loves it when you ride him in general

idk i feel like the two of you would have a sex playlist

and the songs on there are suuuuuper sensual

so it’s not like you’re going at it wildly but it’s... really intimate and ~spicy~

super into holding hands and kissing you so damn hard as he gets close

he once tried to give you a strip-tease but went super shy right in the middle of it and you never spoke of it again lmao

i feel like wonwoo would be a super romantic lover

not the type of romantic that recites poems and buys you flowers every day or anything

but the way he kisses you when there’s nobody else around, and you feel like it’s only the two of you in the whole world

and the way he looks at you, with so much love and adoration it almost makes you cry

and the way he holds you at night, so close to him you can literally listen to his heartbeat 

and the way he opens up to you when you’re alone in his apartment and goes “i just... i never thought a love like this would even be real, you know?" 

he literally never gets enough of you

but it’s okay, because you don’t either

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Mark

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Mark met after you started working at Empire.

- Initially, he’d spotted you while you were in one of the music booths and immediately thought you were cute. Unbeknownst to him, you’d been filling out a resume while listening and would begin working alongside him in just a few days.

- You should have seen Marks face when you walked in and were introduced to everyone as a new employee. He was so excited. You caught him watching you a lot during the day, giving you a smile and that giggle of his anytime you caught him.

- If it we’re anyone else, you’d be freaked out, but even on your first day, you could tell that that was just how Mark was. He was dorky and you found that sort of cute.

- As you got to know everyone more and more, you found that you really started to like Mark, and while it was initially just platonically, your interest in him soon began to shift.

- So, upon realizing that you wanted to be more than friends with the boy, you started to try and test the waters. You started to flirt with him a little, subtly at first and then a little more obvious …and then what was probably blatantly obvious to everyone else in the store....

- Yeah ...Mark didn’t pick up on it. A part of you wondered if he just didn’t like you like that and if he was trying to let you down easy, but another part of you could see that he was just as interested as you were; he was just too nervous to ask you out and didn’t understand you were practically inviting him to do so in every conversation you had with him. 

- The conversation, the conversation between him and Lucas in the break room …god you should have heard it. Mark had mentioned to the boy how he was really into you and was asking if he thought you liked him too. Lucas stared at him for a moment in bewilderment before giving him a polite smile and saying “You know Mark, …something tells me she is”. 

“Really,” He asks excitedly before nodding and giggling “Aww great!”

- Later that day, he paced behind you for a while, stepping closer before retreating before repeating the cycle. Finally, he was right behind you and you just so happened to turn, nearly bumping into him as he stood there. 

- You laughed a bit awkwardly and greeted him, he giggled and greeted you back. You could tell that he wanted to say something so you hung around, watching as he fiddled with his hands and fidgeted in his place, fumbling over his words. 

“So I was uhhh-well like aha, I wanted to know if you maybe wanted to do something later. ..You know …like a, like a date! Heh heh!” 

- Feeling like a higher power had finally hard your prayers, you smiled and quickly agreed. He asked “really” and you’d assured him that yes, you really wanted to. 

- He giggled, said “cool” and said he’d see you later before going to tell the guys. 

- The two of you didn’t really go into your first date knowing what you wanted to do but neither of you really minded. You just started walking down the street together, asking the other person if they had something in mind before settling on walking until you found something.  

- You ended up only walking around town, him occasionally riding his skateboard slowly beside you before he asked if you wanted to give it a try. You spent a good hour holding his hand as he tried his best to teach you the basics. 

- The two of you share your first kiss during your first date. He’d had his hands on your waist while he was teaching you something, his eyes focusing on your face while you were distractedly listening. When you turned to look at him, you locked eyes for a quick moment before he’d quickly pecked your lips, giggled, and continued teaching you. 

-All and all, you wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

- Constant Pda. Mark is obsessed with touching you and getting loved on so it’s only natural.

- Mark loves attention and affection. He will never turn it down, no matter what kind of mood he’s in.

- Please kiss his forehead. Expect him to giggle happily and wiggle in place after you do

- Giggling into kisses.

- Long, drawn out kisses.

- Enjoyably sloppy makeout sessions.

- Mark has definitely licked the entire side of your face at least once; and for no reason at all!

- Hugs from behind.

- Handholding.

- Cuddlinggggg. Cuddlingggg! He loves it so much. He’ll always find a way to snuggle into you, usually by spooning you; he likes being the big spoon.

- The minute you approach him/get his attention it’s like he’s seeing the greatest thing in the world. You’ll seriously never feel more loved than when you’re around him.

- Occasionally, he’ll pretend like he’s in some kind of old Hollywood movie and act all dramatic towards you. He likes the way you look at him so fondly and laugh whenever he does.

- He likes to act like he’s a hairdresser and mess with your hair just to make you whine at him.

- Tickling and poking. He thinks it’s both funny and cute when you jolt in place and smack his arm.

- You’re sort of desensitized when it comes to weird/bewildering stuff. Mark is a ...strange boy, if anyone else were to kiss your foot or forget how to spell his own name, you’d think they were mental, but that’s ...just Mark.

- Exaggerated manners. He’ll open doors and pull out chairs for you with a flourish.

- Randomly being handed little flowers or cute things that he finds.

- Eyebrow raises, finger guns, kissy faces.

- Moshing together.

- Letting him teach you music video dances.

- Singing along to songs with each other. He’ll usually sing at you until you join in with him.

- Your name is babe now. Get used to it.

- Sweet compliments. You should see the way he reacts when you call him cute.

- He’ll let you rant/word vomit to him and nod along to what you’re saying but bless his little heart, he really doesn’t understand a single thing you’re talking about.

- He’s not much help when you’re not happy, he doesn’t understand subtleties nor does he know how to comfort you so just ask him for a hug and let his affection do the healing.

- Even though he doesn’t have any advice for you or a way to really comfort you, he tries his best to make you feel better and stays by your side when you’re really going through something.

- Letting him tell you about his dreams and ambitions. You support him, even if you don’t quite think he’ll actually make it, or is even being serious.

- Unexpected visits. If he has a really sudden idea, he will come over uninvited and excitedly/impatiently ask if you can talk.

- Helping him expand on what he’s trying to do. He’s always asking your opinion on things and looking for your approval.

- Debates and playful arguments about music.

- Getting high together; if you’re into that sort of thing.

- Convenience store runs.

- Sharing food.

- Pizza dates.

- Movie dates. You’ll usually rent a film and hang out at one of your houses.

- Spending your lunch breaks together. You’ll usually sit outside the shop on that little platform with him.

- As spaced out and sort of stupid as he can be, he’s actually pretty good at thinking on his feet and helping you out when you have a problem. He likes when you kiss his cheek in gratitude and call him a genius.

- Mark doesn’t always notice that people are flirting with or interested in you so he doesn’t get jealous very often. When he does, he’s sort of that insecure type of jealous where he’s not so subtly asking if you like them or asking what you’re going to be doing with them. You can usually reassure him and make him feel better pretty quickly.

- Mark is sort of a coward at times, he’s probably hidden behind you at some points so he’s not the best person to protect you. He also just trusts that you can take care of yourself but if it really came down to it, he’d run over and try his best to be tough for you.

- He’s better suited for putting on bandaids and giving boo boo kisses than anything else.

- The two of you rarely ever fight. You might bicker and he’ll walk away with a huff but thats about it.

- Things are resolved fairly quickly. You’ll usually just forget you were even arguing about something or just choose to forget and move on since it wasn’t about anything serious.

- Lots of I love yous. He likes saying and hearing it. He’s surprised you even want to be his girlfriend so he feels the need to let you know that he does whenever he can.

- Mark really loves you so he’s hoping that you’ll want to stick with him, even though you’re like totally out of his league. Either way, he’s going to enjoy the time he has with you.

[mystical-flute]

Summer Heat, Boy and Girl Meet (SFWeek Day 2)

Tallahassee AU or Summer Love

AO3 || FFN

@mysteryandnonstopfun

Get a job at Camp Sherwood, her father said. It would be fun, he said.

Emma Nolan was not having fun.

In fact, she wasn’t sure she was going to make it to the end of the month without landing in jail for attempted murder. Or, if things continued to get even worse, actual murder.

The source of her ire?

Neal Gold, the counselor of Cabin 4, and his merry band of lost boys who loved to cause trouble to the girls of her cabin, Cabin 8.

The problem had started on the third day of camp. The kids had started settling in and getting used to the routine, and Emma had become more confident in her abilities as a camp leader.

Neal Gold had noticed this, and had planned a spontaneous water fight between their cabins, ambushing the girls on their way back from canoeing. That was fine, lighthearted enough, and it had been a hot, humid day, so the extra water had, admittedly, felt good.

But then it had all gone downhill.

Shaving cream had been next, as the girls had been coming back to their cabins from an arts and crafts lesson. Luckily (in Emma’s opinion), they’d had to leave their crafts to dry, and nothing had been broken.

The third was scaring her campers when they’d had a late-night bonfire. Emma had planned it perfectly - s’mores, campfire songs, the works. And then Neal and his stupid campers had decided to jump out of the bushes just as they’d started telling scary stories. The boys had somehow constructed a monster costume and had jumped out of the bushes. If the kids hadn’t already been aware of Emma’s sour attitude toward Neal Gold, it would have looked like it’d been coordinated by the two counselors.

The worst prank had been when they’d returned to their cabin from a hike through the forest. It had been so nice to learn about the local wildlife and plant life, that for the afternoon, Emma had nearly forgotten about the trouble she’d been having.

Then they’d made it back to their cabin to find all of their belongings tossed onto the roof, including Emma’s mattress.

Despite her complaints to Director Sherwood, nothing had been done. The pranks had been waved off as harmless summer fun, which meant Emma had only one other option: revenge.

She’d started slowly: releasing a harmless, wild garter snake into the cabin (“Goodness, Gold, you guys should learn to shut your cabin door!”), greasing the entryway so many of them slipped on their way in after their movie night.

Then, he’d caught on to what she was doing.

He’d confronted her about the pranks, she had snapped back at him, and somehow (both of them swore up and down they hadn’t done it), a syrup-drenched piece of french toast from that morning’s breakfast had flown through the air and landed on Director Sherwood’s wife, Regina.

It had all gone wrong from there, a full-blown foodfight exploding in a second. It hadn’t lasted long, but Director Sherwood had known immediately who was likely at fault (even though she and Neal absolutely weren’t), and had forced the two of them to clean the mess hall alone, while he took their cabins out to the zipline and rock wall.

“I can’t believe I got stuck cleaning this with you,” Neal scowled, flicking a piece of bacon at her.

“Hey! I didn’t want to do this either, but you’re the one who’s been pranking my kids all month!” she retorted, scraping drying maple syrup off one of the tables with a groan. “I just wanted to be a good counselor and give the kids a fun summer, but you had to go around disrupting us all the time!”

“You think I didn’t want to do the same? Be a good counselor and have a little fun with the kids in my cabin? Isn’t that why we’re all here?”

Emma tossed a dirty rag into a bucket of equally-disgusting water. “Do you get off on scaring little girls? Alice had to sleep with me the night you dressed up as a knockoff Frankenstein, and we had to look for Ella’s lucky blanket for three hours after you put our stuff on the roof!”

Neal went unusually quiet as he processed her words. “Oh. Emma, I’m - ”

“Sure. You’re ‘sorry’, you promise you’re done, but then the minute I walk out of here, you’re going to be plotting something else,” she scoffed.

“No - I mean it,” Neal threw a sponge down and raised his hands in a show of surrender. “I didn’t know I’d scared any of your kids. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Emma scowled. “I did! Director Sherwood didn’t do anything.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“Was I supposed to believe you’d listen, after everything that’s happened this month?”

A pause. “Fair point. I’m calling a truce. No more pranks.”

She looked him up and down, trying to find the catch, or to find the lie. She had always been good at it - her father had once told her she was made for detective work.

But she couldn’t find any with Neal, so she sighed, holding out her hand. “Fine. Truce.”

“C’mon, let’s finish this up. If we’re lucky, we might be able to ride the zipline once.”

“Yeah, okay. Sounds like fun.”

Emma’s shoulders ached, from the amount of force used to scrub the mess hall, but by the time they’d finished, they had missed out on the zipline, and the kids were busy practicing their skits for that night’s talent show. They’d missed the pizza that had been called in for lunch, too.

She groaned, rubbing her eyes. “Now what do we do?”

“You hungry?”

“Well, yeah, but - ”

Neal smiled and pulled two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of his pocket.

“Neal!”

“What, did they expect we’d eat wild berries and dirt for lunch? Come on, let’s go sit by the lake. We’ll be able to hear when the rehearsal ends.”

He was becoming a terrible influence, but Emma saw no other option as she followed him, plopping down on a rock and nibbling at the crust of her sandwich.

“Where you from, Emma?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s this little town about two hours from here. I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

“Try me.”

“It’s called Storybrooke.”

Neal choked on the bit of sandwich in his mouth, taking a long drink of water. “No shit? My stepdad is from there.”

She stared at him. What were the odds of that? “What’s his name?”

“Jerkass. Dickwad. Motherfu - oh, sorry, you meant his real name. Killian Jones.”

“Any relation to Adam Jones?”

“Think that’s his twin brother. Why?”

“He’s one of the deputies that work under my dad.”

“He’s a cop?!” Neal laughed, doubling over and wiping a tear from his eye. “Could you send him to NYC? I’m pretty sure my stepdad is some sort of thief. Or worse. Mom keeps getting some really fancy shit and then, wouldn’t you know it, the news comes on with a store being robbed.”

Emma frowned. “Jeez, Neal. You don’t have to live with him, right?”

“Nah. Dad has custody. I live with him most of the time.”

“That’s good at least.”

“Yeah, he and Belle are fine.”

They settled into a comfortable conversation then, and Emma found that underneath all the stupid pranks, Neal Gold wasn’t too bad. And he was, well… kind of cute.

Not that she’d ever tell him that.

“GOLD! NOLAN! I hope you two aren’t slacking off!” Director Sherwood suddenly yelled.

The two jumped up.

“Sorry, Director!” Emma called. “See you later, Gold.”

“See ya, Nolan.”

The rest of the month went smoothly, much to Emma’s relief. The girls had come to enjoy themselves, and she’d made a new friend with Neal.

As she lifted her duffel bag onto her shoulder the last day of camp, she frowned as something hit the ground.

A peanut butter label? How had the label to a jar of peanut butter ended up in her bag?

She carefully unfolded it, feeling her eyes widen as she took in the note scribbled on the back.

Call me if you’re ever in the city. - Neal

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Texas relief, @doilycoffin donated $100, and requested Liam & Cordell Walker. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

(read on AO3)

One of Liam's earliest memories is the time Cordell dropped him on his head. Not actually accurate at all to the way it went but that's how it's told in the family mythology. He was really little, three maybe or four—for some reason that part's indeterminate—and Cordell was climbing the stable and playing adventurer, or maybe just showing off and the adventurer part was a good excuse. Liam was following Cordell around like he always did and he tried to climb up, too, on the fence that kept in the horses when they were let out for their run, and Cordell told him no and that he was too little but Liam was determined to try. Cordell climbed back down and tried to steady him where he'd made it up to the top rung of the fence, and Liam lost his balance anyway, and fell straight backwards and landed headfirst on the dirt. There was a little rock and then a lot of blood, and then stitches, and Mama fussing and their dad ripping Cordi a new one—Liam doesn't even remember that it hurt—but the part that sticks it as a memory is how they all rode together in the truck back and forth from the doctor and Cordell held his hand in the backseat and he was crying, the whole way home, a silent seeping kind of crying that made his face a shiny mess. Liam thinks about that weirdly often. Cordi looking out the window and crying.

When the story gets retold for new friends, or the kids, or Cordell's buddies from the Rangers come around for coffee and Mama's pecan pie, they tell it that Cordell's so clumsy he dropped his baby brother on his head. Liam sort of hates it, every time. Cordell laughs and does the aw shucks routine he's so good at, relaxed with his beer and shrugging embarrassed apology. When Liam was about to head off to college, his eighteenth birthday dinner, Daddy told the story again as a kind of miracle survival, and Liam got up from the table real fast and went out onto the porch, annoyed for some reason beyond measure. It was Cordi who got up and came after him and said, a little cautious, "What's up, Stinker?" and Liam said to him, mad, "Why don't you ever tell people it was me? I was the one climbing up after you. It's not like you did it on purpose."

Cordell just blinked at him. "What does it matter?" he said. "You were the baby and I was a dumbass kid. So what?" He hooked his arm around Liam's neck and he smelled like sweat and Old Spice and that laundry detergent Emily bought that wasn't anything like the one they used at home. Liam pushed at his side but didn't try hard to get away. Not that it would've worked. "It's how we figured out how hard that head was, right? Come on. Mama's gonna wonder if you didn't like the brisket."

Liam let himself be dragged back into the house, and Cordi pushed him down into his chair right between him and Emily, and Emily smiled at him easy, and passed him the potatoes. "One month 'til the dorms," she said, very quiet so no one else could hear under Cordell telling some awful lie about Liam having gas, and Liam laughed, surprised, and it just happened that it was the same time everyone else laughed so that was okay. He always liked Emily. Cordell punched his thigh lightly on his other side, and gave him a warmer more real smile, and Liam dropped it, and he didn't complain about the story again.

*

Seven years between them. Liam always wondered if he was an accident, even if Mama said that with Cordell going to school she was ready to have another baby around the house. Cordell was always the one who was getting into trouble. Rambunctious, loud, falling headfirst into things and getting dragged out covered in mud. Liam learned from his example what not to do. Do not: run along the bleachers at the football stadium and vault the handrails until your foot gets caught and you fall and snap your wrist clean in two. Do not: get caught drinking beer with your high school girlfriend behind the horsebarn, and make Daddy give the most mortifying sex talk in the world afterward. Do not: make friends with the most delinquent-ass kid in the whole hill country and wind up explaining every other week why, really, he wasn't that bad, give him a chance—

Somehow even then he was the golden child. Not the best grades, not the most obedient. That wasn't what their dad cared about. Cordell was good on a horse, good on his feet. Respectful when it mattered and devil-may-care when it didn't. In high school he was the quarterback, of course he was, and Liam was right there in the stands with their parents every Friday night, cheering his lungs out. Weirdly boastful with his fourth-grade friends: his older brother was the star of the football team. His older brother could ride a bull for ten seconds and get off hardly winded. Bookish, kind of short, he needed the borrowed glory of Cordell's success to be proud of. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it got him pushed over on the soccer field while some bigger boy went, gawd, William, who cares?

Liam never got in trouble. Never broke a bone. After bringing Cordell back from the hospital with a fresh new cast on his ankle and a dopey slightly-drugged smile on his face, Mama settled him in bed with Liam's help and turned off the light and then, in the kitchen, sighed and said, "Liam, you are a real relief to the mind, do you know that?" He was proud of that, too, in that moment. It wasn't until later that it nagged at him. A therapist asked him, much later in a sleek Manhattan office that smelled faintly of sage, "Do you think your predilection for being contrarian results from that time?" He went home annoyed with her, and was more annoyed when he told Bret the story and Bret didn't even turn around from the carbonara he was making and said, "Babe, you're the most contrary person I know."

He wasn't. He didn't—think he was. He… was, he realized, after a week of sitting with it, and a week after that it made sense. He didn't pick fights, and he didn't make waves. His rebellion was quiet. His hard head, forcing him to make his own space in the world. Not able to live up to Cordell and knowing instinctively that it would be awful even to try—and so taking the opposite turn, every time. It was better than being compared, even if he knew there was no chance but to be compared.

He studied hard. He read, all the time. He liked math and literature equally and did equally well in both. He hated P.E. but he did what he could there, too, and he learned to ride even if he didn't actually love horses the way the rest of the family did, and when Daddy asked if he wanted to join up with the little league baseball Liam asked to play soccer, instead, and Daddy frowned but Mama said, "Why not, I've seen enough boys drop foul balls for a lifetime." So, soccer, and most of his games were during the day or on Saturday mornings, but Cordi came to a lot of them anyway, and when Liam's team won Cordi would jump down onto the field and grab him up by the waist and crow David Beckham, right here! Little David Beckham for sale! Liam would struggle and then he'd be slung headfirst over Cordell's shoulder like a potato sack and his face would get so red from laughing that it hurt.

*

On September 12, 2001, Mama and Daddy were gone from the house when Liam got home from school and he was glad for it. That was a Wednesday. He was in sixth grade. The teachers weren't even trying to hold normal lessons and everyone was talking about what had happened the day before. Melissa Kettering was out that day and the rumor was that her dad had been on a business trip in New York. Liam had raised his hand and asked the social studies teacher if there was going to be a war, like there was after Pearl Harbor, and she sat down on her desk and shook her head and didn't answer.

He was trying to read his book for English when the phone rang. Cordell, calling from his apartment in town. Hey, buddy, he said, over the line, and Liam sat down on the floor by the phone table and closed his eyes, unaccountably almost about to cry. Is Daddy there? Liam told him he was home alone. Lucky, Cordi said, you can totally throw a rager, and Liam didn't laugh, and neither did Cordell, even though he always laughed at his own stupid jokes. Hey, um. I shouldn't—I don't know if I should tell you this but I've gotta tell someone, and Em's in class, and I just have to—I did something, and I need to—

He interrupted himself and Liam could hear him breathing over the line. He didn't want Cordell to say anything. If he didn't say anything then Liam could pretend that he was going to tell a story about some party they'd gone to at Emily's sorority, or that Hoyt had come back into town and they'd seen a show at ACL, or that he was gonna come stay that weekend, and maybe he and Liam would go riding. Anything but what he was about to say. Liam could hear it, in his head. He could hear it like it had already been said and it was echoing, now, inside, like a verse from a song he'd always, always remember.

Cordell graduated from the Marine boot camp on a Saturday in the middle of December. Liam went along even if he wasn't allowed to attend the actual ceremony and Daddy complained about the cost of the plane tickets until Mama told him to shut up. Liam sat between them on the flight and it was the first time he was ever in the air. Over the top of Mama's crossword book he watched the clouds go by over New Mexico, Arizona, with complete wonder. San Diego, then, different to Austin—palm trees, and the air so wet, and even the parking lot at their hotel smelling like warm flowers.

Mama gave him fifty dollars before they left for the graduation. They were bringing Cordell back, after, because they got one night with him before they had to give him back to the military. "Order a pizza," she said, "at 4:30 exactly, and we should get back at the same time the pizza comes so we can all eat together." Liam watched American Pie on the hotel tv while he waited, something he would never have been allowed at home. He made the call when he was supposed to, and when the girl on the phone asked him what toppings his mind went completely blank because he was never allowed to make that decision. Cordi liked ham and pineapple and none of the rest of them did. Liam ordered it with extra pineapple.

When a knock came on the hotel room door Liam jumped up to open it, cash in hand. The one holding the pizzas was Cordell, grinning at him with Mama and Daddy standing behind. "Pizza delivery," Cordell said, and Liam crashed into him for a hug so hard that Cordi almost dropped the boxes and said whoa, Stinker, soft and laughing.

His hair was cut off, an inch on top and shorter on the sides, so he looked like those pictures of their grandpa when he was in Korea. He was skinny, too, which Liam didn't get, because he thought boot camp was all about building up muscles. "Mostly running," Cordi said. He was tired, dark circles under his eyes. He was stretched out on one bed with his strange starched blue pants and the awful khaki shirt that made him look washed-out pale even if he'd been running around San Diego for thirteen weeks, and Mama was sat next to him squeezing his arm like he'd evaporate if she looked away for a minute, and even Daddy was hovering. Proud but worried. Liam sat by Cordell's boots and tugged on the laces, wanting to ask more questions but not daring to.

Cordi fell asleep before six o'clock. Daddy turned on the television real quiet to the news. More stuff about the invasion. Liam hoped it'd be all over by the time Cordi got there. Mama boxed up the remaining pizza, shaking her head. "Don't know why you picked pineapple, kiddo," she said, and Liam shrugged, sitting at the table, watching Cordell's face, turned away a little on the pillow. Liam wanted to shake him awake but of course he didn't. For his whole life, after, he gets a little sick to his stomach when he smells pineapple.

While Cordell was in Afghanistan Mama and Daddy had Emily over to the house a lot. She was sweet. Respectful of Mama, calling her ma'am half the time, and charming to their dad even though Liam knew that she and Daddy probably disagreed on more than things than not. She liked that Liam played soccer and asked if he ever watched the Premiere League. Liam didn't even know what that was. She helped Mama cook supper and went out and took pictures of the horses which made Daddy smile, and one time when Liam went outside after dinner to read she was there crying, on the porch, quiet with her hand over her mouth, and Liam hung back and didn't know what to say. "Sorry," she said, dashing at her cheeks with the heel of her hand. She licked her lips and nodded at his book, sniffing. "That's a good one. You should read the sequel, too." He did, and told her about it, and she smiled like a sunrise, the way she always did, and he felt like—he didn't even know, what he felt like.

Liam was the best man at their wedding. He felt and looked ridiculous. Fifteen in a tux and he didn't know how to tie a bow-tie, but Cordi didn't either, so Daddy had to do it for both of them, grumbling the whole time that they should've learned this by now. "Not a lot of bowties in Kandahar, Daddy," Cordell said, winking at Liam, and Liam—blushed. Ridiculous, and embarrassing, the way the whole affair and the lead-up had felt, but Cordell didn't seem to care or notice, so—there was Liam, blushing in a bowtie.

Cordell had only been back for a year and somehow things were off. He was serving the rest of his contract out in the reserves but he wasn't finishing up his degree like he'd told Mama he would. He'd entered the training program for the state troopers and was set up to be a highway cop, of all things. He'd rented a house in Austin with Emily and they lived together the whole year before the wedding—an argument with Daddy about that one, which Liam listened to from the hallway with his heart pounding—and they weren't even going to be married in the church because Emily didn't want a wedding mass and, Liam suspected, Cordell didn't either. Daddy lost that argument, too.

The wedding was tiny. Liam the best man, Geri the maid of honor. Emily's aunt that raised her on one side and Daddy and Mama on the other, and a handful of Cordell and Emily's friends making up the numbers in the little rented hall. Afterward they had a bigger barbecue out at the ranch and in front of the crowd Emily fed Cordell a dainty forkful of the lemon cake and Cordell responded by dotting a tiny bit of frosting on her nose and kissing it off, and Mama's best friend Sue-Ellen sighed and said to Mama, where Liam could hear, "Well, Abilene, maybe they're atheists but I daresay you raised that boy right every other way," and Mama said something dry back but Liam was watching how Cordell cupped Emily's cheek in his hand, smiling down at her like she hung the moon, and he thought, yeah. Yeah, Cordell was just about perfect, wasn't he.

"High school in the fall, right?" Emily's aunt said, later. "Emily says you play soccer. Going to try out for the team?"

Cordell and Emily were dancing, swaying in the grass, the bonfire leaping up behind them. His hand still on her cheek. "I'm quitting soccer," Liam said, without even realizing he was going to. "I'm going to try out for wrestling, instead."

*

He figured out he was gay relatively early. His friends at school got hold of a Playboy in fifth grade and didn't really know what to do with it beyond blustering. This was before anyone but nerds was on the internet, and Liam was a nerd but did a decent job of hiding it. Scott beckoned Liam over while they were waiting for the buses and showed him the top of the magazine, the bold logo and the girl with her boobs pushing up out of her bra—the group of them snickering, saying how hot she was—and that they were going to look at it at Scott's house later if Liam wanted to come over—and Liam said, "No, my mom's making me go to the store with her." The lie came out effortlessly.

They did have a computer at home, and dial-up internet it had been very, very hard to argue Daddy into. He hardly knew how to find anything but he did some careful searches while Daddy was out with the horses and Mama was cooking, singing bad over the stove like she tended to. Made Liam's face hot to see some of what he was seeing. Hoyt came over, once, while Cordi was away in the war, and he helped Liam and Mama dig out a bunch of tomatoes that hadn't grown in right, and afterward they sat on the porch drinking lemonade while Mama asked Hoyt all about the oil field he said he'd been working in and Liam watched how Hoyt's legs sprawled out on the porch, how his jeans hugged up against his calf muscle and how the sweat had made his white shirt nearly transparent, and he had to sit very careful on the bench with his knees drawn up to hide the effect it had on him.

When Cordell came home from Afghanistan they threw a huge party. Everyone came, Daddy's friends and Mama's, and Emily and their friends from college, and even Hoyt, magicked up out of somewhere (for the promise of free beer, Daddy said), and then Liam, the youngest person there, watching from the corner of the porch as always. Cordi was very tan and finally bulky with muscle and his hair had grown out, just a little, from that military buzz, and he barely detached himself from Emily the whole time, his arm always around her shoulders or hers around his waist, and when they did step apart his eyes followed her and she watched him right back, smiling at the most random times. Liam was fourteen and a little more aware of the world and he wondered abruptly if they'd had sex yet. Cordi had only been home one day and he'd slept at the ranch and not at Emily's apartment. How would they have found the time?

He was chewing his thumbnail over it when a sweaty weight crashed down on his shoulders, arms trapping his in. Hoyt. "Hey there, Stinker," Hoyt said, and Liam shrugged fretfully and said, "Don't call me that," and Hoyt laughed at him but stood up and ruffled Liam's hair completely backwards instead.

"Still pretty shrimpy," he said. He was grinning, like he had some big secret. "You planning on growing up anytime soon, champ?"

"Don't you have a sketchy job to get to?" Liam said, annoyed. He tried to fix his hair and gave it up as a lost cause the second Hoyt's grin got bigger. Asshole.

Hoyt sipped his beer. Twenty-one—he was allowed, although Liam had noticed that Mama was being a little free with handing out drinks to Emily's college friends. "Glad big bro's home, I bet," Hoyt said.

Liam didn't dignify that with a response. Hoyt laughed, under his breath, and held out the beer for Liam to take, which he did because he didn't know what else to do. "Go on," Hoyt said, nodding at it. "I won't tell your mama. Not fair that everyone else gets to celebrate while little Liam's sober. And boring."

"I'm not boring," Liam said, although he knew he was because half the kids at school clearly thought so. He took a sip of the beer, anyway, not knowing if Hoyt would snatch it away. Nasty, and he made a face that made Hoyt hoot, and then he took a bigger gulp, determined at least to get something out of it.

"There he goes," Hoyt said, weirdly delighted, and he clapped Liam on the shoulder the same way he would Cordi when they were in high school, and the bit of warm in Liam's belly went lower. "That's a welcome home."

Liam kept the beer, curled against his chest. He felt dumb holding it and also weirdly adult. "He's not even here," he said. Sort of scoffing. "Doesn't matter."

Hoyt curled his arm around Liam's shoulders again and ignored how he went stiff, and nodded out at the party. Music playing from a radio Daddy had set up on a truck-bed. Emily and Cordell, dancing in the firelight. Same as it would be for the wedding reception a year from then, although of course Liam didn't know that at the time. "Aw, he's here," Hoyt said. He squeezed Liam's shoulders. He smelled strange, like—skunk, and Mama's compost bin. It was gross but also kind of appealing and Liam shifted, hoping his dumb body wouldn't react. "He's just with his girl, and who could blame him. No call for getting jealous."

He wasn't jealous. Not—exactly. That night after Mama and Daddy went to bed the party kept on, and Liam went to his room and watched from the dark window, the bonfire still going and all the college kids still going, too. When he finally fell asleep he had a strange, blurry dream about Hoyt—building a bonfire together, and Hoyt smiling at him and being a jackass and then touching his face, the same way Cordell touched Emily's face, and then Hoyt touching his stomach, low—and then the dream shifted, the weird way dreams shift, and it was Cordell, touching his stomach, and smiling at him, and leaning in close—with his hair longer like it was before he enlisted—but wearing for some reason the dumb khaki shirt of his uniform—and then Cordell's hand—

When he woke up he was soaked and it was bright morning. He washed his underwear out in the sink, feeling like his head was screwed on to someone else's body, and then he hid the underwear in the hamper, and showered, and tried not to think about it. He had that dream or one like it on and off for years, until he finally lost his virginity to Michael in college and it went away. He never told his therapist about it, or Bret, or anyone. He could rationalize it but he couldn't ever acknowledge it out loud because of what it—felt like, to think about it. To make it real in a place that wasn't just his stupid, crazy, dreaming head.

He had the dream again the night before he came out to his parents. January 2nd, trying out his new year's resolution of honesty. He figured in a ruthless sort of way that if his parents kicked him out or hated him or tried to change him then at least he had early acceptance at UT for the fall and a full scholarship and it was just eight months where his life would be completely over.

Cordell was at home on the ranch and Liam figured that's what triggered it. A couple days of vacation, since he'd worked over Christmas, and he and Emily and baby Stella had stayed up for ringing in the new year, and everyone had taken turns kissing Stella's forehead when midnight struck. Liam had been allowed a glass of champagne, Mama not even fussing about it since it was a holiday and the house was full—so he had two glasses—and when he went to bed he could still hear Cordell laughing from the front room, telling Daddy some story about a bust on the highway, something about stolen Santa suits, something light.

He dreamed they were swimming, up at the lake, and Cordell was naked. Laughing, that same too-loud booming laugh, but just because he was happy and not like he was making fun. Being kind to Liam. Holding him from behind with his arms around Liam's chest, their legs slipping together in the water. Liam could imagine what it would be like for a man to do something to him, he'd seen porn by that point, and he'd seen Cordell naked too because of the vagaries of living in an old house without a lock on the bathroom door, but somehow there was still a disconnect in his head. He was turned on beyond belief but nothing—happened, just the vagueness of Cordell behind him. His big hands.

Mama took Emily and the baby in to town, that day, for shopping. Daddy said they'd just bought half of Macy's and Mama shushed him so Daddy was up at the barn, checking over the new foal. Liam sat on the porch with a cup of coffee and watched birds come to the new feeder Mama had got from Emily and he tried to rehearse it, in his head. What to say. He'd seen it in movies but it didn't feel possible to come out of his mouth.

Cordell sat by him, on the bench swing. "Since when do you drink coffee?" he said. Then, less casual: "Is that my mug?"

"Yes," Liam said, and didn't protest when Cordell took it out of his hands. He rubbed his palms on his jeans. He had a hard time talking to Cordi after he had one of those dreams and so it was a relief that most of the time Cordell wasn't around, that he was in town at the house he shared with his wife. With his wife, Liam reminded himself, as though that could help. Another thing to make Liam different. Wrestling instead of football, reading books instead of riding, and now—this, on top of everything.

"Whatever's going on," Cordell said. Liam blinked, came back to the world. The cold, and the swing barely rocking from how Cordi had set his boot on the porch and pushed, and Cordell looking at him very steadily. "You know you can tell me, right?"

Liam swallowed. "Even if it's—" Bad is what came to his mouth and he shook his head. He prayed about this, he resolved. It's not bad. "Weird?"

"If it weren't weird you probably wouldn't be being so weird about it," Cordi said, frank, and Liam shoved his shoulder. The dream dissipated just like that. How could he possibly be crushing on his brother when his brother is this much of a jerk. Cordell swayed, grinning, letting Liam push him even if Cordell outweighed him then by fifty pounds, but then he set his hand on the back of Liam's neck, more serious. "Whatever it is. We can figure it out."

Liam licked his lips, and nodded. He knew then that was going to tell Cordell the one secret, if not the whole of it, before they left the porch that morning, and Cordi would—back him up, with Mama and Daddy, even if he didn't get it. "Give me back the coffee," he said, and Cordell raised his eyebrows but passed it back, so Liam could take a gulp. The caffeine probably wouldn't help but maybe it wouldn't hurt, and it felt nice to hold the mug. "Promise you won't freak," Liam said then, even if he was—mostly, ninety percent, pretty sure—and Cordell said, immediately, "I promise," and Liam believed him. That was the thing, with Cordell, in those days. It was easy to believe him.

*

It's Mama who calls, when Emily dies. Liam's already in bed because he's got court in the morning and Bret shoves at his shoulder, says, "Oh my god answer it and then change your ringtone, I hate that song," and Liam's still fuzzy from sleep and doesn't quite process that there's no good reason Mama would be calling him after nine o'clock in Texas because she always thought that was bad manners, it had been drilled into him all his life, and he says, mumbly, still waking up, "Hey, Mama," and there's a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line before she says, Honey, I'm sorry, but I have real bad news.

He flies out the next day. Bret tries to dissuade him. "There's nothing you can do right now," he says, as though that's the point. JFK to Austin-Bergstrom is four and a half hours and he spends the whole time with his chest this weird achy knot. It doesn't feel real but it is. He texted Mama his flight plan and she says that Daddy will pick him up at the airport, and when he gets into the truck Daddy shakes his head and says, "Good to see you, son," but without any truth to it. Liam doesn't take it personally.

Cordell's not at the ranch when they get there but the kids are. "Hi, Uncle Liam," Stella says, remarkably clear, until he hugs her, and then she curls his hands into his shirt and cries silently, her shoulders shaking. August doesn't get up from the couch, sitting there with one arm crossed over his chest and the other over his mouth, and he looks—Liam's always shocked by it—so exactly like his mother. Stella's a copy of her grandmother, to the point that Mama set her prom picture side by side with Stella's first dance photo and the only real difference was the dress—but Auggie always took after Emily, from coloring to temperament to those long straight eyebrows, that mouth that curves up into a wide, easy smile. Not smiling now, and not for a while, and when Stella pulls away and wipes her eyes Liam sits down next to Auggie and sets his hand on the back of his neck and Auggie just folds over, quiet, like whatever was holding him up just isn't there anymore.

"Where is he?" Liam asks Mama, in the kitchen later. The sun's going down. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours.

Mama's eyes are red-rimmed. "Where do you think?" she says.

Liam takes the truck. Lady Bird Lake is officially closed at night but of course that makes no difference. He parks and walks, up to the lookout, and Cordell doesn't hear him coming. He's sitting on the steps to the gazebo, his elbows braced on his knees. The light hitting his hair. Long again. Liam doesn't know how he's always skirting regs and getting away with it, except of course Cordi gets away with everything. Golden child.

He regrets the thought as soon as he has it. "Cordi," he says, and Cordell looks up in complete surprise. Liam smiles at him, as much as he can, and comes and sits on the step. He tries to think of what to say and can't come up with anything.

"Aren't you in court tomorrow?" Cordell says, after they sit there for thirty seconds. His voice sounds thick and distant.

Liam shakes his head. "Today," he says, and Cordell nods and huffs and says, "Right," and then looks down at his hands again. They're twisted together, his thumb rubbing hard and repeatedly at the mount of his other palm. Liam reaches over and puts his hand over the knot of Cordell's fingers and Cordell's jaw flexes but he lets Liam do it. "I'm sorry," Liam says.

"Everyone is," Cordell says, halfway bitter. Liam squeezes his hands and Cordell makes a rough low noise, some sound Liam has never heard him make. "Jesus. They won't let me go in to work."

"Of course they won't," Liam says, and Cordell pulls his hands away, pushes them into his hair. "Cordi, they have to—they're going to be looking for who did it and it has to be by the books so it'll stick. They're not going to risk screwing it up."

"I just want to—" Cordell cuts himself off but Liam can imagine what goes there. He touches Cordell's back instead and the muscle flinches. Set to fly off the handle any second. Fight or flight, but Cordell never used to run from anything and Liam can't imagine he's going to start now.

He stands up. "Wrestle me," he says.

Cordell looks up. "What?"

Genuine surprise. At least it's not misery. "Come on," Liam says. "See if you can pin me." These jeans are nice, were a gift from Bret, but he'll sacrifice them. He holds out a hand and Cordell lets himself be pulled upright, and it's a shock like it always is when Liam's been too long away, how much taller Cordi still is. Liam always was the shrimp. He pushes Cordell's chest, lightly, and Cordell slaps his hands away. "Cordi," Liam says, coaxing, and pulls at Cordell's wrist. "Let me take your mind off it."

Stupid thing to say and he knows it as soon as he says it. Cordell gives him an ugly look and shoves him for real. "Take my mind off it?" he says, while Liam's staggering backwards. Liam sets his boots in the dirt and braces, and when Cordell pushes him again Liam grapples, and they are wrestling, then. It's sloppy, bad holds, both of them in too-slick boots for this ground. Liam manages to swing Cordell around and get his back on the ground but Cordi's always been stronger and shoves him off, and then they're just—flat-out scrambling, Liam's hand sinking into a patch of mud and both of them breathing hard, Cordell twisting out of his grip and getting an arm over his chest, tight, before Liam eels over and flips them—gets Cordell on his back on the dirt—his leg over Cordell's—and then Cordi drops his head back against the ground and taps out, panting.

"You been practicing?" Cordell says. His eyes are closed.

Liam sits up, says, "Class at my gym." Cordi nods and Liam gets off him, kneels next to him in the dirt. The gazebo's bright and the skyline's pretty, on the other side of the lake. Liam looks at that instead of at his brother, so he won't have to see the tears seeping down Cordell's temples, wetting his hair.

"It's not okay," Liam says. He sets a hand on Cordell's chest. At the DA's office in Manhattan he's comforted widows, widowers, orphans. Some of them seeking justice but most of them knowing it won't really be found. Cordell, he thinks, is one of the latter type, but Liam tries out the lines he's learned anyway. "It's not okay and it's not fair. I can't pretend I know what you're going through but I'm sorry." He swallows, his throat trying to close without his say-so. "Jesus. I'm so sorry, Cordi."

"Yeah," Cordell says, rough, and grips Liam's wrist. When Liam looks down Cordell's eyes are still closed. They stay there for a while, by the lake, long past when it's uncomfortable.

When they finally get up, Liam's knees creak like an old man's but Cordell doesn't make the joke he should. He leaves Cordell's truck and drives them both back into town, and gets drive-through Whataburger that Cordell picks at instead of eating, and says, "Do you want to go back to the ranch?" and isn't surprised when Cordell shakes his head, no. They get a hotel instead, two queens and a respectable mini-bar, and Liam calls Mama from next to the ice machine in the hall and says that he's got Cordell, and they're fine, and they'll be back in the morning. She clearly wants to object but doesn't know how and Liam hangs up before she can figure it out.

He gets back, with the ice. Cordell's sitting on the end of the bed watching the news like it's the Superbowl. "I was thinking about the funeral," Cordell says, when the door closes behind Liam. "I have to plan the funeral and I don't even have her body."

Liam sets the bucket on the bar and sits on the other bed. "We'll help," Liam says. Cordell's cheek sucks in on one side. "You don't have to do any of this alone."

"Yeah," Cordell says, remote, and Liam looks at him. Weird hollowness in his stomach and he realizes only after a second why: it's the first time, all his life, that he can remember Cordell lying to him.

*

The Rodeo Kings operation is supposed to be quick. Three months, is the estimate: to get in, to learn the operation, to get out. They need an agent who can be convincingly skilled as a traveling rider, who knows a ranch operation, who can act. There's a depressingly short list and one name at the top of it. Everyone thinks it's a bad idea except for Graves, and Cordell.

"It'll give me something to think about that's not this," Cordell says, when Liam's trying to talk him out of it. They're on the back patio of his and Emily's house in town. The kids are still staying out at the ranch. It's two weeks after the funeral and they haven't gone back to school. Cordell hasn't shaved in a few days and the sound as he scratches his jaw is loud. There's no music playing from the kitchen window, like there used to be. The plants out here are already dying. Liam wants to grip Cordell's shoulders, get in his face and yell, but doesn't dare to. He gets a deep sigh, instead, and Cordell flipping a poker chip between his fingers like a restless card shark, and then a smile, fake as fake. "Anyway, who do you know who can ride a bull better than me?"

"No one," Liam says, and Cordell nods, like damn straight, and in the morning Liam goes in to the Travis County DA and announces he'd like to transfer offices, due to a family emergency that's going to keep him here in Texas, and it's only afterward when some calls are made and the paperwork's signed that he calls Bret, back in Manhattan, and leaves a voicemail that he's going to be staying a lot longer than he thought.

It isn't three months. As the operation drags on, Liam sweet-talks his way into being one of the assistant attorneys on the case and he tries to alleviate how Graves is getting more and more suspicious. Cordell's old partner James gets promoted to captain, six months in, and he vouches for Cordell, too, not that it seems to matter either way. Cordell's the one who's embedded with the rodeo and he'll either finish the job or he won't. They don't have another agent to send in, not without compromising the work that's been done so far, and nothing else will do but to wait.

The kids ask Liam for updates every week when he comes for dinner at the ranch. "I can't tell you everything," he says, like he does every time, and Daddy's quiet at the head of the table, and Mama quieter on the opposite side. Cordell has a rendezvous every Monday when the rodeo takes the day off with a burner cell phone and an agent waiting impatiently for his call, and his reports are terse: still trying to get them to trust me. They're suspicious of newcomers. The ring seems really tight and I can't figure out an opening. Give me time. He's allowed to call Liam the same day and Liam answers every unknown number on Mondays, giving hope to spam callers nationwide. Cordell usually sounds tired but he still calls and they have a dumb, simple conversation—about how the Rangers beat the Angels, how he's breaking in some new boots and has a blister the size of Indiana, how he's craving, inexplicably, sushi. "Sushi?" Liam asks, trying to imagine when Cordell ever tried it, and Cordi says, with rare humor, "Hey, I'm not a big fancy New York lawyer but I've had my share of raw fish," and when Liam hands the phone over to the kids they lean over the speakerphone and talk over the top of each other about a class project Stella did, and a history paper Auggie got an A+ on, and Liam watches with his hand over his mouth for the moment when Cordell has to interrupt and say, tired-sounding still, "Sorry, guys, I have to go," and the goodbyes have to be quick, and then that's it, for another week.

The first time Liam sees him when he's Duke it's a shock to the system. Seven months in and the reporting agent says that Walker missed his check-in. Walker—that's what they all call him, even when Liam's in the room with them. There's a small frenzy in the operation office. Graves calls for Cordell's head, predictably at this point. James, trying again to calm her down, but looking a little like he agrees. Liam leaves the office unnoticed and walks outside to feel cold air on his face and feel less—how he feels—and there's a text, on his phone, from an unknown number. The Alibi, Driskill ST, thirty minutes. Come alone.

Ridiculously illicit. Liam takes off his suit-jacket and tie and ruffles his hair into something unprofessional and goes. It's hard to park—Monday night football—and inside is the opposite of his scene but he finds a seat at the bar. A girl in a too-tight orange t-shirt gives him a once-over and he smiles tightly, ignores her, drinks a watery beer, and almost exactly on the thirty-minute mark someone sits down next to him and it's—not his brother.

Duke Culpepper was the fake name they picked. Originally from Texas but had some misdemeanors that made Texas unfriendly so he'd been hiding out in Tucson for a few years, working the rodeo there. Not dangerous but willing to get up to something that was, and he looks the part. He smells like sweat and horse manure and hay and some shitty, awful aftershave, and there's a bruise on his jaw like someone suckerpunched him, and he doesn't look at Liam but smiles sweet at the bartender and says, with a fake low drawl, "Darlin', I wouldn't mind a shot of bourbon, when you have a chance."

Jesus, Liam thinks. The bartender has an expression like Cordell slid a hand down the front of her jeans and made her the happiest woman alive—the shot takes about ten seconds to arrive, when Liam's been waiting for a second beer for five minutes. Cordell knocks it back in one motion and says, "Again, and—" and he turns, like he noticed Liam for the first time, "another round for my friend, here. We're celebratin'."

She blinks, notices Liam's empty glass. While the next round's being prepared Liam raises his eyebrows and plays his part. "What are we celebrating?"

"Got a new job," Cordell says—but no—it's Duke, who's saying it, Duke who's drawling lazy and has his hat cocked at an off-angle and who's got a bandana tied around his wrist which for some goddamn reason is working the whole, hot-ass look.

"Congrats," the bartender says, and Duke grins wide and winks at her and downs the second shot, letting out a little whoop. "Another?"

"Better make it a double this time, sweetheart," Duke says, and Liam puts his hand on the warm lean stretch of thigh knocking against his under the bar and squeezes, very lightly, a warning, and sees Cordell's eyes tighten just slightly, and sees how his shoulders round out, like he's ready to get in a fight. Cordell takes a deep breath and toasts the bartender, but turns to look at Liam, face a grinning glad mask. "Got a new girl, too. Real pretty."

The bartender's disappointment would be funny, any other time. "Your lucky day, then, huh?" Liam says. Cordell's knee presses hard into his under the bar. "Girl got a name?"

"Miss Twyla Jean," Cordell says, almost crooning it, and Liam raises his eyebrows—he thought they had embarrassing Texas names—and then Cordell downs the double-shot, grimacing at the sting, and then says, much quieter so that only Liam can hear: "All it took was me making it eleven seconds on a bull and she took me straight to bed."

Liam takes a deep breath. Cordell's jaw flexes, in the silence, and he puts the empty shot glass on the bar. "Thanks for celebrating with me," he says, and slides off the barstool, backwards. He grips Liam's shoulder so hard that it actually hurts. "Gotta get back. Job won't do itself."

"Godspeed," Liam says, toasting with his beer, and Cordell gives him a tight smile and tugs his cap and walks out of the bar, taking with him the smell of the stables and his too-tight jeans and this sensation under Liam's gut that's murky and dangerous, unsettled. His shoulder hurts. It's only after he's written down Twyla Jean's name and texted it to James, and gone home to the apartment where Bret's still bitching about the décor, and taken a shower, and pressed his forehead against the cold tile, that he realizes that Cordell was wearing a fucking Texas Rangers cap. The absolute bastard.

*

The night he hears from Cordell again he has a fight with Bret. The same fight, worked over the same way. Bret hates Texas. He hates being away from his friends. He hates the politics and the food and how Liam's always with his family. He doesn't want to go to family dinner at the ranch because he's sure Liam's dad hates him. "He doesn't hate you," Liam says, for the fifth time, but to be honest he's not sure. Daddy never seems to like Bret that much, either. Cordi's never met him and Liam wonders, like he's wondered many times, if they'd get along, at all. Wonders if that'd be a dealbreaker and then wonders, washing dishes while Bret watches MSNBC in chilly silence, if the fact that he's wondering if it would be a dealbreaker makes it a dealbreaker, after all.

The text comes as a relief. Annunziata's. He dresses down more carefully than the first time. It's a weird spot, on the outskirts of town where it feels less like Austin than like a suburb. Karaoke and Italian food and mostly-fake cowboys slapping their knees to the absolutely horrific song being sung—very suburb. And there, at a table right by what passes for a stage: Cordell. But, no: Duke, Duke Culpepper, with his arm slung around the shoulders of Twyla Jean and his lips on her ear, grinning, wild. It catches Liam's breath like it did the first time. Duke, confident in his body and happy and having a good time, easy. Hot. Jesus, Liam doesn't get how it's so hot.

He waits in the backroom and watches Cordell shoves his face into the water. It's disturbing how panicked he is, once he's Cordell again and not Duke. "You have to," he's saying—babbling—"You have to tell them, they're going to kill people, you can't let them go through with it—" but of course that's not either of their decision and Liam can't help. It's awful, an awful awful feeling. His big brother looking to him for an answer he can't give. Cordell pushes his hair back from his face and puts his hat back on and looks miserable but he goes back, he sits right back down with that girl and lets her slide her hand down his thigh up the inseam of his jeans and Liam watches from the corner of the bar, where he won't be seen, drinking a beer he doesn't want, seeing his brother be someone who's not his brother. Maybe someone his brother could have been. They're going to sleep together, tonight. Liam knows it. They've been fucking for three months. Is it easy, he wonders. It shouldn't be, for Cordell, but maybe for Duke it is.

He goes home to Bret and wakes him up, and apologizes for the earlier fight, and kisses him, and gets Bret on his belly, and fucks him that way, a little hard, kissing the back of his neck, making Bret gasp and flinch and groan, delighted. "Where did that come from," Bret says, lazy and satisfied, and when he falls asleep Liam takes a shower and then only then calls James, from the hall outside their apartment door, leaning with his forehead against the wall. The bank location has been obvious since Cordell reported about Twyla Jean; the only thing that wasn't certain was the time. It'll be fine, James says, firm, and hangs up on Liam to coordinate with the rest of the team now that Agent Walker has finally come back in from the cold, and Liam stands there with his eyes closed in the hall and thinks, yes. Yes, it'll be fine.

After the bank—after the clean-up—Graves debriefs Cordell for a long time. It borders on unlawful interrogation at a certain point but Liam doesn't dare intervene when she's this furious—he can't risk being taken off the case. It takes James making a call to her supervisor at the field office, who then calls her and pulls her out of the room, for Cordell to be given a reprieve, and Liam goes in to the conference room and finds Cordell still in the stupid black hoodie stained with Crystal West's blood, his head in his hands, breathing with his mouth open like he can't get enough air.

"Cordi," Liam says, and Cordell shakes his head. Liam licks his lips and checks the hall. No one's guarding them—they wouldn't, because Walker's one of their own—and he says, "Get up." Cordell looks up at him, finally. "Come on, quick before she gets back. Come with me."

Cordell follows him. Down the hall, left to go through the atrium instead of the bullpen, then through the glass doors to the hall to, at last, the men's room, and Cordell stands in the middle of the tile blinking until Liam nods at the sinks and says, "Do it."

He's sloppier about it, this time. His hair hangs dripping in front of his face. He pushes it off his forehead and looks up at himself, in the mirror, panting a little. Water drips off his nose.

Liam brings him paper towels and he dries his face. "You should take that off," Liam says, and Cordell looks down at his clothes like he has no idea what he's wearing and only just realized, and tears off the hoodie in an awkward tangle. Underneath his t-shirt is black so Liam can't tell if it's stained. The big silver cross swings from his neck.

"What happened," Cordell says. A croak.

"Graves didn't tell you?" Liam says, and then bites his tongue. Obviously not. "Clint and Crystal are both dead. Clint at the bank. Crystal crashed the car. They think she passed out. Blood loss." Cordell nods, tight, looking away. These are his friends, Liam reminds himself. These are the people he knew, the only people he really talked to, for almost a year. "Two more people died at the bank. Twyla wasn't there and we don't have information to tie her to the job. I don't know where Jaxon is but we have people looking. They're still trying to recover the stolen money."

"Graves did tell me that much," Cordell says, and turns around, leaning his ass against the sink. It's slowly draining, behind him. "I think she wants to arrest me since she can't arrest them."

"I think so, too," Liam says, and Cordell smiles a little. He looks like he hasn't slept all year. "You did your job. It's over."

"It's not over," Cordell says, immediately. He drags his hand through his hair. "Graves made that clear. The money's still missing and Twyla and Jax are in the wind."

"And Duke's being sent to jail," Liam says. "So his part in the Rodeo Kings gang is over."

Cordell wipes his fingers over his mouth. He's still wearing that bandana around his wrist. Liam wants to take it off of him. Throw it away, burn it. "Duke Culpepper, common criminal," Cordell says, drawling it a little.

"Never liked him anyway," Liam says, and Cordell smiles, dropping his head. Liam touches his shoulder, grips his neck. "Hey. Means you get to come home. The kids will be over the moon."

"Yeah," Cordell says. He brackets a loose hand around Liam's wrist and nods. "Yeah. Can't wait."

His smile faded, as soon as Liam said it. Liam thinks about that, for that whole night, and for the whole next day, after, when James tells him that Cordell put in for one week's leave. "You talked to him?" Liam says, and James shakes his head, says, "He called Connie. I think he still doesn't even know I'm the captain."

He tells Mama and Daddy that Cordell will be home next Wednesday. Stella's frowning, not eating her dinner. "I saw that bank robbery on the news," she says. Auggie's big-eyed, watching, next to her. "Was that Dad's big case?"

"It was," Liam says, and Auggie's eyes get bigger. "But there's a debriefing period. We need to make sure his undercover identity doesn't have any loose ends that'll tie him back to his real one."

Daddy's eyes narrow and Mama's quiet. Liam got pretty good at lying, over the years, but he never was quite able to fool them.

He calls Cordell the next day. "Tell me where you are," he says, and Cordell doesn't answer for a long moment, letting the silence stretch out over the cell line. Liam considers it a victory that he even answered the phone.

He has a room at the Fairmont, on the fifteenth floor. Liam knocks and it's a minute before the door opens. Cordell's in bare feet, jeans, an ACL t-shirt. Liam follows him in and the room is—nicer than Liam's current apartment, that's for sure. King bed, outstanding view. "Wow," Liam says, and Cordell says, "Better than the Super 8 in Kermit," sort of sarcastic, and then sits down on the bed like he can't stand up anymore.

Liam doesn't sit. He doesn't think he's really invited, even if Cordell let him in the door. "I told them next Wednesday," he said. "Mom and Dad, and the kids. A week. Do you think that'll be enough time?"

"Honestly?" Cordell says, and doesn't elaborate.

There's a table, with four chairs, like a dining area. On it a box, like one of the evidence boxes from the office. Liam walks over and tips back the lid and: there's Duke Culpepper. The striped shirt he wore when Liam met him at Annunziata's. That was—god, only three days ago. A plastic bottle of aftershave. The cross necklace. The gun. Liam picks it up and checks the revolving chamber—that one bullet, still ready. It makes him nauseous just like it did the first time.

"I know you're probably not okay," Liam says. Understatement, he thinks, of the century. He closes the box and pushes it away, toward the center of the table. When he turns around Cordell's holding the beer in one hand and playing with a poker chip, in the other. "I know you're going to need some time. But when you're done, we need you back. The kids, and Mom and Dad. And me."

"C'mon, you don't need anybody, Stinker," Cordell says, with the barest thread of levity. "You climb right up to the top of the barn all by yourself, when no one's around to stop you."

Liam pauses, confused by the subject change. Surprised, then. "You were there for that?" he says, and Cordell shrugs, one corner of his mouth lifting.

When Liam was eleven, and Cordell was at college, and the world hadn't yet turned over on its head. It was early August and his school hadn't started, and Daddy and Mama had gone over to the feed store to pick up a truckload for the horses. He was bored, and tired of reading, and he'd gone out to the barn and looked up at it and thought about how Cordell had done it, at his age or maybe even younger, and if Cordell could then Liam could, too, if he set his mind to it. It wasn't even all that hard, once he was looking careful for the places to set his feet. He sat down on the top of the barn and looked out over the ranch—and further, over the where the road into the ranch pushed out into the hills, down toward the town. He wondered how far he could really see, to the horizon.

"Swung by to pick up my football stuff," Cordell says, now. "Em parked on the other side of the house and I didn't think anyone was home, until I looked out the back. You were up there just—taller than anything." He shrugs. "See? Didn't need my help after all."

"I wouldn't have climbed it if you hadn't dropped me on my head," Liam says, and Cordell snorts, shakes his head. Liam bites the inside of his cheek and crouches, and Cordell's forced to look at him or be ridiculous and so Cordell looks at him. Liam reaches out and gets his hand, the hand with the poker chip, and squeezes it, and Cordell swallows and squeezes back. The edges of the plastic bite into Liam's hand. "Come back," he says.

Cordell takes a deep breath. "I will," he says. "I promise, Liam."

Liam stands up and hugs him, around the shoulders, and walks out of the room. He takes the elevator back to the lobby and steps out into the sunshine, and takes a deep breath, and calls Bret to arrange lunch. Cordell's promises.  Fifty-fifty, anymore, that it ends up being true. Liam decides to believe him. He's hardheaded. He might as well be hardheaded and optimistic about it.

[rllymilerlly]

49 and 50 with whatever you want!

Writing prompts

“Im too sober for this”/ “Oh god, I need a drink”

I got a lil carried away with this and DIDNT know how to end it because I just wanted to keep going and still do so I’m sorry.

For some context this set in my lil college au that I use for most of my stuff with them u_u

————

Gaz would say she was used to Zim and Dibs quirks. After knowing Dib all her life and Zim for over half she has had to adapt to the wacky shit they put her through. And when Dib and Zim decided to get an apartment together in college, she knew she was going to have to always mentally prepare herself for whatever hellscape awaits her inside when she came over.

However, one day after an extremely long art critique in class, all she wanted was to come over to their place and complain about it. They’d comfort her in their own unique ways, make her feel like not a complete failure like her professor did. Maybe they’d even take her out for some pizza as compensation for her shitty day. She was so caught up in her own frustrations, she didn’t mentally prep for the sights she could possibly see. So, when she entered the apartment she wasn’t ready to witness her boyfriend in his high school prom dress doing some sort of weird shimmy with her brother in front of the TV with “Promiscuous” blasting from the speakers.

“I’m too sober for this,” was all she could say at the sight. The boys both turned at the sound of her voice.

“Oh, hey Gaz!” they said simultaneously, flashing a smile, before immediately turning their eyes back to the screen.

“What the hell are you guys even doing?” Gaz asked as she started heading to their kitchen. Honestly, she has walked in on crazier shit. This wouldn’t even come close to breaking the top 20 list. But after the long mid term week she’s had, she was just hoping for a semi-normal night. Though, she should’ve known that was going to be a lost cause with these two. Maybe she should have just called Zita or someone instead of coming here.

“-and then of course Zim took that as a personal challenge. And now we have been playing Just Dance for the past 3 hours.” Dib rambled on slightly out of breath, not realizing his sister wasn’t fully paying attention.

“Hey! Watch your arms, space bug!” He yelled as Zim slid in front him almost hitting his face.

“Wouldn’t have to if you were paying attention Dib-Shit” Zim mocked.

“Zim why are you in your old prom outfit?” Gaz asked before Dib could retaliate. Zim’s antennae perked up at her voice.

“I put it on to coordinate with the first simulation. But Dib refused to let me change again in an attempt to hinder my MAXIMUM performance,” he started to laugh, “A foolish move on his part. I’ve been kicking his ass in heels since he was a smeet.”

“Oh my God, no. That is not why. I just didn’t want to wait forever for you to change in between every song. Matching with the characters doesn’t ACTUALLY help improve your score, moron.”

“Psh of course you think that, human” Zim rolled his eyes as he dramatically paused. “WHAT?! Zim totally hit that move! See Dib your stupid box can’t recognize Zim’s body movements perfectly because my attire is not accurate! The scores are going to be all off!“

“Oh my God, I need a drink.” Dib sighed ignoring Zim’s theatrics. He glanced over at his sister, who was pouring herself a shot. “Hey Gaz think you can pour me one too?”

“You mean to tell me you’ve been dancing for 3 hours sober?” She questioned as she poured him a glass.

“Bleh I don’t see how humans can drink that filth,” Zim gagged.

“Says the alien that eats nothing but pure sugar” Dib replied as he walked away from the game.

“Hey! The songs not finished ye-“

“You win, space lizard, congrats” Dib interrupted.

“Well of course I did!” Zim gloated, satisfied with his victory. He joined the Membranes in their tiny semi-messy (thanks Gir) kitchen.

“Hello Gus,” Zim said as he gave her a swift peck on the cheek, following more of his typical “normal partner” welcoming routine now that he could give her his full attention. Gaz smiled slightly at the dumb nickname.

“Hi Zim” she replied. She handed Dib a shot. They clinked their glasses and downed them.

“I’m sorry you had to witness us dancing,” Dib said, wiping his mouth.

“I’m not! I’m a great dancer!” Zim said. He gloved up his hands to start tidying up the mess Gir left.

“Oh hey! How was your critique today?” Dib asked, ignoring his roommate.

Gaz sighed, “I’m going to need another drink first.”

[suituuup]

Could do where Beca actually joined Barden two years later than she should’ve because she initially joined the army, but was sent home after she lost both her legs in a horrific battle. She meets Chloe but is reluctant to have any kind of a relationship because she is so insecure about her body.

so this is what it feels like

rating: m

word count: 3,6k

ao3 link

*

Barden University. 

Beca looks at the sign and heavies a deep sigh as the car rolls forward, stopping at the curb a few minutes later. The driver steps out and takes her wheelchair out of the trunk, setting it up next to the open passenger door. 

“Need any help?” 

“I got it,” Beca mutters, shuffling to the edge of the seat and easily transferring to the chair. “Can you just hand me my bag? Thanks.” 

She sets it on her lap and starts rolling away towards the main building, catching people staring. “What are you lookin’ at?” Beca spits out, glaring at a group of boys who instantly glance away. 

She doesn’t want to be here. She was perfectly happy across the world, working for the Army. She had friends there, a family. A landmine took that away from her, as well as her two legs.

She was flown back to the States after an emergency amputation and moved in with her dad and the step monster. The following year was rough, as Beca dealt with both depression and PTSD. Numerous therapy sessions helped her figure how to live again and slowly dragged her out of her grieving state. She eventually agreed to her dad’s suggestion about going to college, figuring she couldn’t stay hauled up in the house forever. 

She picked English as a major, as she’s sort of a book nerd, but she’s got no idea of what kind of job she wants to do. 

She likes music and enjoys messing around on her computer making mixes but… it won’t ever be good enough for her to actually make a living out of it. 

The first few days of classes are uneventful, except for the way people keep looking at her. Beca figures they’ll get used to it sooner or later, but for now, she glares.  

She hangs out at the library a lot or at the coffee shop on campus to work on her mixes. 

She’s at the library one afternoon, rolling up an aisle to get the book she copied the reference from on one of the computers.

“Damn it,” she mutters when she realizes it’s on one of the higher shelves, which are out of reach. 

“Need any help?”

Normally, Beca would say I got it, because she hates relying on other people, but one, she really doesn’t have it and two, the words die in her throat when she takes a good look at the stranger. 

A redhead, with the most vibrant eyes and smile Beca’s ever seen. 

Her brain eventually reboots and she blushes slightly out of embarrassment for taking so long to reply. “Um yeah. Could you grab me that green book on the top shelf?” 

“Sure thing,” the stranger chirps, standing on the tips of her toes to grab it. “Here you go.”

Beca takes it, setting it on her lap. “Thanks.”

She’s about to roll away, when the girl speaks again. “Would you be interested in joining an acapella group?”

Beca’s eyebrow shoots up. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to dance, too?”

“Not necessarily. I mean, we could figure something out, if you’re interested.”

“I’m not. I don’t— I don’t even sing.”

“Oh. Okay. Too bad.” She winks. “See ya around.”

She continues on her way, and Beca on hers. 

Beca sees her again two weeks later, at the Barden Beanery. She’s stuck outside because the damn automatic door won’t work and of course it’s starting to rain. 

“For fucks sake,” she grumbles, hitting the button once more. 

“I’ll get it for you.”

Beca looks over her shoulder to see that same girl from the library heading over. “Oh. Hey there, acapella nerd,” she teases as she manœuvres her chair to roll into the coffee shop. “Thanks.”

“No worries,” she replies, smiling softly. “Wow, this place is packed.”

Beca nods towards a table in the corner. “I think those guys are leaving.”

“Nice catch. Mind if we share?” 

Beca shrugs. “Yeah, sure.” 

She tucks her chair in the free space at the table and opens her backpack to pull out her laptop, ordering a black coffee and a slice of carrot cake when the waitress comes by. 

She and the redhead work in silence for a while, Beca with her headphones on (one ear left uncovered) as she messes around with her mixes. She soon loses herself into the music, bopping her head up and down to the rhythm.

“What?” She asks when she catches the other girl staring, blue-grey eyes peering at her above her laptop. 

“Nothing,” she murmurs, a serene smile on her features. “I was just wondering what your name was.”

“Oh, right. I’m Beca.”

“Beca,” Chloe repeats, nodding. “I’m Chloe.”

“Cool to meet you, Chloe the nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd!” She cries, laughing.

“You’re in an acapella group, so you’re a nerd by definition.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

They work together for another hour, Chloe bidding her goodbye when she has to get to rehearsals. Beca sticks around until 7, heading back to her hall to head dinner.

“Hi!” 

Beca looks up to see Chloe popping down on the seat across from her at that same table as three weeks ago. It’s a week later, and the place is near empty this time around, so Beca’s confused as to why she decided to sit with her. 

“Um, hello?” It looks like Chloe’s here to stay, and Beca can’t say she minds? Weird. “You look happy.”

“I am! The Bellas and I are competing this weekend.”

“Competing?” Beca cocks an eyebrow. “So this acapella thing is pretty serious, then?”

“Totes!” Totes? “Our plan is to get selected for the National championships in NYC.”

“Wow. Well, I hope you guys make it.”

“Thanks! You should come check us out if you don’t have anything planned.”

Beca scrunches you her nose. “I don’t know how I feel about being in the same room as so many nerds.”

A laugh flits past Chloe’s lips. “What are you working on anyway?”

“Um, mixes. I mix music.”

Chloe’s eyes adorably pop wider. “You mix music?? That’s so cool. Can I listen?”

The normal Beca would have said no in a heartbeat. She didn’t plan on making any friends, the last year’s events making her more withdrawn and more of a loner. But there’s something about this Chloe, something Beca can’t pinpoint, that makes it impossible for her to say no. 

“Yeah sure, if you want to.”

Beaming, Chloe switches chairs to sit next to Beca as Beca takes off her headphones to hand them over. She selects her Titanium + Bulletproof mashup and hits play, taking a sip from her drink as it starts. 

The look on Chloe’s face as she listens, one of pure enjoyment, makes Beca’s chest swell with something unfamiliar. 

“This is amazing!” Chloe nearly shouts, shrinking in her seat when people’s heads turn towards her. In a lower tone, she adds, “Sorry.”

Beca chuckles. “Yeah? You like it?”

Chloe takes off the headphones. Her eyes are sparkling, the same way Beca’s do when she listens to something she’s really into. “I really do. Have you thought about making a career out of music?”

Beca shrugs. “I did, yeah. I thought about going to LA, but my dad didn’t like that idea because he doesn’t believe there’s a career to be made. He wants me to try college first, for at least a year. I think he’s still pissed about me enlisting in the Army without telling him.” 

“How long were you in the Army for?” 

“Only a couple years,” Beca says, motioning towards her legs next. “Then this happened.” 

Chloe grimaces. “I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, well…” her shoulder lifts in a half shrug. It took her while to reach that state of mind; to stop being angry at the world for what she was going through. She learned to accept her handicap and to live with it, even if some days prove to be really fucking difficult. “It is what it is.” 

She doesn’t know why, but that weekend, she finds herself attending that acapella competition to check out the Bellas. The songs suck big time and the outfits are questionable, but Beca is too enthralled by Chloe’s beautiful voice to really care about the rest. 

“You came!” Chloe exclaims in surprise when she spots Beca at the end of the show. She’s bending down to hug Beca before Beca can protest, and Beca feels her face heat up as she awkwardly pats her back. 

“Congrats on being selected,” she says when Chloe pulls away, her lips stretching in her first genuine smile in a long while. 

“Thanks! What are you doing later?” 

“Um… nothing planned. Why?” 

“Wanna order pizza and watch something on Netflix?” 

Chloe’s question makes Beca hesitate for a few beats. She truly doesn’t know what Chloe sees in her, as it’s not like Beca has made any efforts to strike up a friendship, but she has to admit that spending time with Chloe is nice. 

“Sure, yeah.” 

The night turns out to be one of the best Beca’s had in a while. She doesn’t remember laughing that much since before, and it’s all thanks to Chloe and her dorky sense of humor and positive energy. They hang out more over the next few weeks, either at the coffee shop or at Beca’s dorm, and Beca quickly develops a crush on her new friend, berating herself as soon as she acknowledges her feelings. 

Even if Chloe does feel the same way, which is unlikely, it’s not like she’d go out with someone like Beca. 

“I need your help,” Chloe blurts one day, plopping down across Beca at their usual table. 

“What’s up?” Beca asks, glancing up from her book. 

“Our set list sucks. There’s no way we’ll make it through to the ICCA’s.” She sighs, then nibbles on her bottom lip for a couple seconds. “I was thinking… maybe you could make us a setlist? We’ll totes pay you.” 

Beca rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to pay me. But would Aubrey be okay with me helping?” 

“She will be, I’ll talk to her.” 

They spend the next few hours brainstorming songs, eating pizza and drinking root beer on the floor of Beca’s room. 

“How ‘bout Don’t You Forget About Me? It’s a cool song,” Beca suggests; they’ve been stuck on the third song for over thirty minutes. “So while a few of you sing the end of Price Tag, the lead could start singing Won’t you, come see about me, I’ll be alone, dancing you know it baby,” Beca sang, faltering when she caught Chloe’s weird look. “What?” 

“You can sing!” She nearly shouts, her jaw dropped as she shoved Beca’s shoulder. “What the fuck, you told me you couldn’t!” 

Beca chuckles. “I was afraid you might harass me if I told you I could,” she pauses, eyeing Chloe. “Am I wrong?” 

Chloe grimaces, blushing slightly. “No. We were really desperate at the start of the year.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe how good you sound.” 

Embarrassment wrinkles the bridge of Beca’s nose. “I’m pretty rusty. Your voice’s beautiful, though.” 

“Thanks, Becs.” 

They work on the arrangement for another two hours, and just like that it gets past midnight, but it’s done. 

“We did it!” Chloe cheers, throwing her arms up. She hugs Beca tightly, almost making her topple over from the force of it. “You’re the best.” 

“Jesus, Chlo,” Beca laughs, hugging back and momentarily melting into the soothing embrace, kind of never wanting to let go. 

Chloe’s eyes flicker down to her mouth when she pulls away, and Beca barely has time to inhale before Chloe’s lips are on hers, soft and tender and just… right. Beca loses herself into the kiss for a second; a blissful second where her mind goes blank, before her insecurities slam into her brain at once and wrench her out of the liplock. 

“I’m-- I’m sorry, I thought--” 

“Well you thought wrong,” Beca mutters, gaze fastened on her thighs. She can’t. She can’t start something and have Chloe change her mind when she realizes she could do much better than Beca. “Can you go, please?” 

“I… okay.” 

Chloe swallows and hastily gathers her stuff, the door soon clicking shut behind her. 

Beca doesn’t see her for a week; she doesn’t go to the coffee shop, preferring to stay hauled up in her room to work through her frustration. 

A knock at the door cuts through her thoughts one night as Beca is chilling on her bed messing around with more mixes.

“One sec,” she calls out, shuffling to the edge of the mattress and transferring herself into her wheelchair. She rolls to the door and unlocks it, pulling it open as she backs up to make room. Chloe is standing on the other side. “Hey.” 

“Hi,” she says, her greeting uncharacteristically quiet. “Can I come in?” 

Beca nods and backs up some more, waiting for Chloe to slip inside. 

“Aubrey loved the setlist,” she murmurs with a soft, albeit nervous smile. “She says thank you.” 

Beca nods. “That’s good, I’m glad.” 

A sigh puffs past Chloe’s lips. “I’m really sorry about the other day. I shouldn’t-- I shouldn’t have kissed you.” 

Beca wets her lips, finding the courage to meet Chloe’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have snapped. You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just--” she sighs, struggling to find the right words. 

“Just what?” Chloe presses gently. 

“You don’t-- you don’t want this.” 

Chloe tilts her head to the side. “What are you talking about?” 

“Look at me,” Beca raises her voice, motioning towards her amputated limbs. Tears burn behind her eyes as the frustration that’s been bubbling up inside of her finally bursts out. “I don’t have legs, Chlo! I can’t walk, I can’t dance, I can’t-- do normal person stuff.” 

“Beca…” Chloe whispers, taking a few steps forward and kneeling in front of Beca’s chair. Beca averts her eyes, hating that she’s on the verge of crying. “Look at me,” she coaxes gently, reaching up to cup Beca’s cheek. “It breaks my heart for you that you don’t get to do those things anymore, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you, or the fact that I want to be with you.” 

Beca blinks, the shield surrounding her heart splitting open and vulnerability shining in her eyes. “You… want to be with me?”

Chloe simply smiles. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

Beca’s eyes flutter shut for a few beats as she puffs out a breath, trying to tame down her insecurities about her body and letting people in in general. 

“Hey,” Chloe murmurs, squeezing her hand. “I don’t want to make you do anything you’re not ready for, alright? If you do feel the same way, we can take it slow. You set the tone.”

Chloe’s words soothe the anxiety swirling in Beca’s belly and her heart swells; she trusts Chloe and her intentions and god, she really wants to be with her, too.

Leaning forward, she cups the side of Chloe’s neck and brushes her lips across hers. Chloe hums, smiling against Beca’s mouth before she kisses back. 

“I’m taking you out on a date tomorrow night,” she says when they eventually pull away. 

Mind still tipped upside down from that kiss, Beca blinks and nods, a dizzy smile spreading across her lips. “Alright, nerd.”

The next few weeks turn out to be amazing as they easily fall into a relationship dynamic. They hang out even more, texting whenever they’re not together. It’s kind of gross, how happy Beca feels, but she figures she deserves it after everything. 

“Can we um— pump on the brakes a little?” She asks breathlessly one evening, squeezing Chloe’s waist as she straddles Beca’s lap.

“Yeah, of course,” Chloe rasps, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I liked that, I just— I’m not there yet.”

She’s terrified Chloe might not find her attractive or worse, be grossed out when she finally sees Beca completely naked. 

“That’s okay,” Chloe assures her, pecking her lips. “You set the tone, remember?”

“Thank you,” Beca murmurs, truly appreciative of Chloe’s selflessness. “Hey, so um, I have my first physical therapy session with my prosthetics next week and uh, I guess I would like it if you could be there?” 

She’s had countless appointments over the last few months to get measurements and fittings for her prosthetic limbs, and she would finally see whether or not she could walk in them next week. While she’s been wary so far about including Chloe to that part of her life, she knows she’ll need someone there for emotional support, and she can’t think of anyone better than her amazing girlfriend. 

Chloe’s eyes widen. “Yeah? That’s exciting!” Softening, she adds, “Of course I’ll be there.” 

Beca is a nervous wreck by the time her appointment comes around. After much internal back and forth about whether she wanted Chloe to be in the room while they set up the prosthetics and for her to see her stumps, Beca eventually figured she would sooner or later anyway.

Chloe doesn’t show any signs of being grossed out once Beca’s pants are off, and she even grabs Beca’s hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles, as though reading Beca’s mind and guessing she needed some sort of reassurance. 

Once the technician slipped the sleeves and liners on Beca’s residual limbs, she straps the prosthetics on. “How does that feel?”

“So far so good.”

“Alright, ready to take some steps?” 

Anticipation and slight nerves swirl in Beca’s guts as she nods, moving her wheelchair in front of the metal bars. She puts the brakes on and with the technician’s help, rises to her feet. 

Her trembling hands reach for the bars as the technician holds onto her waist with a belt in case she loses her balance. 

“Let’s try a couple stationary steps first,” she advises, and Beca manages to lift one foot after the other, familiarizing herself with the feeling. “Great job. Let’s try a couple steps?” 

Beca nods, exhaling slowly and gripping the bars tighter as she moves her right foot ahead, then her left. It’s wobbly and the sockets are a bit uncomfortable, but she knows it’s just a question of getting used to. Tears sting her eyes because she’s walking again, and while she knows the road ahead is still long, she also knows she’s going in the right direction. 

“Doing okay?” The other woman asks as Beca takes another two steps. 

“Yeah, I just need a small break.” It’s much more exhausting than she thought, sweat beading on her forehead already. 

Chloe’s grinning from ear to ear when Beca glances back at her. “You’re walking, babe.” 

“Yeah,” Beca exhales with a disbelieving laugh. “I won’t take you out dancing right away, but someday.”

Someday. 

Chloe takes her out for a celebratory dinner after and once they’re back to Beca’s dorm and on her bed to watch something on Netflix, Beca doesn’t reach for her computer, capturing Chloe’s lips in a yearning kiss instead. 

Their make out session quickly turns hot and heavy, and Beca whips her top over her head at some point, staring at Chloe with darkened eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“I love you,” Beca murmurs instead, cradling Chloe’s cheek tenderly. “I’m so sure.”

Chloe’s eyes soften, and a dazzling smile spreads across her lips as she kisses Beca. “I love you, too.”

Time slows down after that as they explore this new window in their relationship, and Beca doesn’t feel one bit uncomfortable about her appearance, not when Chloe is showering her body with so much love. 

The next couple months are pretty much perfect. Chloe and the Bellas win the ICCA’s, Beca continues making progress in physical therapy, to the point where she’s able to walk short distances with just the help of a cane. 

On Chloe’s graduation day, she shows up not in her wheelchair but on her feet, intending on surprising her girlfriend, who has no idea she got that far. She spots Chloe talking with her family across the room after the ceremony and slowly but surely makes her way over, gripping the bouquet of flowers in her right hand tighter as nerves over meeting Chloe’s parents sprout in her belly. 

“Oh my god,” Chloe croaks, her eyes widening and a bright smile lighting up her features when she finally sees Beca. 

“Hey you,” Beca greets with a lopsided grin, laughing softly when Chloe shakes her head in awe and tucks herself into her arms. Beca inhales her scent, closing her eyes as she basks in the closeness. “Congratulations. I’m so fucking proud of you.” 

Chloe kisses her softly, taking the bouquet from her to slip her hand into Beca’s now free one and gently tugging her to the older pair. 

“You must be Beca,” Chloe’s dad says, his eyes the same vibrant blue as his daughter’s as he extends his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“You too, sir,” Beca replies, accepting the handshake. 

“Please, call me Mike.” 

“And I’m Alice,” Chloe’s mom introduces herself next, her smile warm and genuine. 

“You’re joining us for lunch, right?” Mike asks, offering a matching smile. 

Beca smiles and her heart warms, not having expected an invitation. “Um, yeah, sure. I’d love to.” 

Chloe kisses Beca’s cheek once her parents start to make their way to the car, walking slowly to match Beca’s pace. 

“What?” Beca asks when she notices Chloe is staring at her profile. 

“Nothing,” Chloe murmurs, squeezing Beca’s hand. “I’m just really happy.” 

The Beca from a year ago would have never thought she’d know what it felt like; to be loved and loving someone like she did Chloe. Yet, here she is, the happiest she’s ever been, and she’s got the feeling it’s just starting. 

“Me, too.” 

[cameoamalthea]

I think it's interesting how many people were wanting Jester to leave Artagan and go with the Moonweaver (who is awesome btw). I can't properly convey how relieved I am that didn't happen and that their already strong bond was made stronger and they both grew from it. Because that is how good relationships work and people are capable of changing for the better. Finding new faith worked for Fjord, but I don't believe it would have worked for Jester the same way. What they have can't be replaced.

If Artagan was forcibly taken from Jester it would have been traumatizing for Jester. 

What the Mighty Nein, and perhaps a portion of the fandom, don’t understand is that Jester is a depressed lonely person who hides it. She puts on a mask of always happy and fine, it’s ok. She’s not ok and they don’t see it. Jester is also afraid of being alone, which plays into her fear of being disliked and abandoned. 

Whether or not anyone else likes Artagan, Jester LOVES him and she has some serious attachment issues so just ripping him away from her would be super harmful.

There’s a scene in C2E19 where the party sees a shack and wants to investigate it. Jester suggests turning Frumpkin into a bird to go check it out since it’s like a mile away. Caleb does not like the idea, but then playfully says for you Fjord I will do it. Jester responds by being dramatic and pouting about him shooting her down but being willing to do it for Fjord. 

LAURA: Can Frumpkin be a bird? 

LIAM: (reluctantly) Yeah. 

TALIESIN: For a bit. 

TRAVIS: I want to check out the shack. 

LIAM: All right. For you, Fjord, I will make Frumpkin a bird. 

LAURA: Not for me, though. Caleb hates me.

SAM: We could just walk over there. It's a hassle to turn him into a bird. 

TRAVIS: Yeah. Keep your cat. 

LIAM: You are more sensitive than I would have imagined. 

LAURA: I want people to like me.

Caleb is extremely observant and although this is a light, playful scene, says something that cuts really close. “You are more sensitive than I would have imagined.” She’s being over the top and dramatic, he criticizes her, and since what she was joking about what is actually some real insecurity she kind of deflates, her voice gets real small and she says “I want people to like me.” 

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment made harder to catch by the fact everyone is talking at once and Laura is eating pizza (role-playing with your mouth full - this is not to shame her for eating, she is entitled to that pizza, but it might make it harder to pick up on the moment). However, I think this touches upon something important. 

Jester is in fact extremely insecure about being liked, and you see this with her relationship with the Traveler. Worrying that he might not like her now that she has other friends at first, and constantly needing reassurance that she’s the most important. 

There’s a brilliant thread on reddit that sums up Jester’s character as follows:

“She's a people-pleaser because she's afraid to lose people. She grew up with the only 'low resource' being people - caring, loving, laughing people. She had her mother, who definitely loves her, but that was it. Most children have scores of people, and other children! to play with. Jester didn't.

And she's afraid to lose that, at any cost. Even realizing she was manipulated, keeping Artagen is more important than standing up for herself or showing her disappointment, because she can't lose him.

Onto - Artagen. What we know:

He's openly admitted to being manipulative and selfish

More importantly: he's openly admitted to never wanting to be bored and never wanting to 'get into emotions'

This REALLY matters. Why?

Because Jester is afraid of losing everyone so she can't be what those people don't want.

Jester can't be upset in front of Artagen because he might get bored with all of her emotions and leave.

It's crazy important for her to be his favorite because, as she is helping him leave all of his followers (her biggest fear) he keeps saying he won't leave her.”

Jester has pretty serious abandonment issues. Children need the attention and support of a caregiver. RedditTotalWar made a great point on that reddit thread: “A significant withdrawal of attention is often enough to cause a child to develop abandonment issues. Children don't have the capacity to realize that some things aren't about them since they are the centers of their own universe.” So the fact Jester’s mother, who clearly loves her and is a good person, did not always have time for her and required Jester to keep her existence secret is damaging. 

Note, this is not to suggest that Marrion is a bad person or was intentionally abusive. You don’t have to be a monster to hurt a child. Disney example: In Tangled, Mother Gothel isolated Rapunzel and was an abuser who just wanted to use her. In Frozen, Anna’s Mother and Father isolated Anna out of a desire to do what they thought was best for their other daughter Elsa and to protect Anna from what they saw as the threat posed by Elsa’s magic. Anna’s parents were not intentionally abusive and loved their children, but Anna was still neglected and isolated and harmed by their actions.

To Jester, the message she got growing up was ‘Momma loves me, but she’s busy and I can’t get in the way and no one can know I exist’ which could easily be taken as ‘Momma loves me, but I’m not the most important thing to her’ or even ‘Momma loves me, but my existence makes her life harder, so maybe I’m not completely lovable since I’m a problem’. 

And while you may think, if she was that worried why would she act out and play pranks and cause trouble, the fact is that children who are insecure about being loved may self-sabotage with caregivers. You see a high rate of disruption in foster children right before adoption because the child starts exhibiting behaviors. Perhaps faced with the fear of, maybe my parental won’t love me if I cause trouble, it feels safer just deliberately causing trouble because then at least you’re the one in control rather than walking on eggshells terrified that messing up could mean abandonment. 

The fact that Jester’s prank on Lord Sharp resulted in her having to leave the only home she’s ever known and never come back under threat of death and that her Mother could not (or in her mind, would not?) protect her may have made her abandonment issues a lot worse. 

Jester is terrified of being left alone, of being abandoned. Taking away the one person who has been a constant in her life and who she has felt safe with all at once would not be good. As Laura said on her playlist “he’s always been the one person she could show her insecurities to” and losing that stable, trusted person would hurt. 

 I don’t think her relationship with Artagan is entirely healthy (it’s not healthy for a child to grow up with only one other friend and her attachment to him extreme and also he’s a selfish, manipulative Archfey - I don’t think Artagan thinks this relationship is entirely healthy). However, I do not think it would have been better for her to have him ripped away like that. Especially given the fact that the whole Moonweaver thing was her idea and she would likely blame herself for what happened. 

How devastating would that be for someone with Jester’s level of insecurity? 

The Mighty Nein, and again a portion of the fandom, may have preferred it if Jester broke up with Artagan and moved on or found a new god. Fjord’s relationship with Uk’otoa (Uk’atoa) was toxic and abusive, so the Mighty Nein are very wary of that sort of relationship. Fjord if projecting and thinks that any relationship with a powerful being that isn’t a god is dangerous. 

The truth is Jester’s relationship with Artagan isn’t really like one of cleric and god. It’s more like a personal relationship where he happens to give her divine powers.

LAURA: I take a bite of my caramel apple, and I go walking down.

MATT: You hear a crunch sound and your handshakes for a second and you look down and a mysterious secondary bite was taken out of the apple.

LAURA: (gasp) I lick the spot.

(groaning)

SAM: You're making out with your god? Gross.

MATT: They have a special relationship.

A special relationship indeed, Matt. It’s intimate, she talks to him about her crushes and asks him for advice on boys then casually confesses love to him.

LAURA: You're not jealous, are you?

MATT: "No."

LAURA: You'll always be my number one love.

MATT: "I know.”

Fjord is an orphan who was looking for parental figures. Vandren was a mentor and father figure, and it was through Vandren that Fjord gained his connection to Uk’otoa. The Wild Mother felt Motherly to Fjord and in Talks Travis said that when Matt first described the feeling his thoughts were on like have I found my Mother somehow. To Fjord religion is a divine parent, an authority figure who provides guidance and direction, and in the case of the Wild Mother love and support for him. 

Jester has never seen the Traveler as a ‘dad figure’. He’s just her best friend and based on her behavior towards him and jealousy towards his other followers, and the number of love songs on Laura’s playlist, I’m pretty convinced that Jester is IN LOVE with him. 

(I don’t know if that feeling is required. Given they grew up together with him in the form of another child and the fact Artagan is actually ancient, I think he sees her more like a little sister. This might be why he was so confused when she grabbed his face and leaned in like she was about to kiss him despite the fact that like she’s flat out told him that he’s her number one love and requires constant reassurance that she’s his favorite and acts like a schoolgirl with a very obvious crush)

And again, all of this may not be healthy or ideal for Jester. She might get hurt. However, I think in order to grow the relationship has to run it’s course no matter what happens. Artagan not only acted completely selflessly by kicking her off of him rather than face the possibility that she’d have to choose between him and or friends or be banished with him but like - he apologized to her. 

An actual, real, non-manipulative apology. He admitted he was manipulative and he’s sorry and when she tries to play it off as it’s fine, he says he doesn’t want to defend himself. He’s sorry.

That’s growth.

[oneweekoneband]

meet me behind the mall!!!!!!!!!

I don’t know why Taylor Swift thinks that teenagers drink wine, and I don’t know why she chose to record and release a wistful high-school-other-woman song which left me feeling naked as a frog and therefore furious. Some questions we ask only so as to be soothed by the familiar sound of our own voice, still there after all. The answers are not coming. 

The Taylor Swift Teen Love Triangle Triad of “cardigan”, “august”, and “betty” is the part of folklore that makes me most bullish about where Taylor is going as an artist. A turn away from writing songs which are intentionally meant to appear confessional and toward, instead, songs which reveal the personal as refracted through fictitious circumstances and made-up characters is a better use of her big, weird brain, and allows that brain to be unleashed on a broader plain of experience. It’s incredibly embarrassing to be an adult woman with my own problems to manage and to have living in my head Taylor Swift’s demented YA fiction, but it’s an embarrassment that feels appropriate, like I could never really have escaped this fate. On “betty” she gets to play-act as a contrite teen boy who knows he’s done wrong, and while obviously the most charming thing about the song is Taylor saying “fuck” (and also her giving us a little of the ol’ razzle dazzle by way of some light twang), her experiment with imagining what it’s like to be a skateboarding kid who hates dances, trying on an imagined teen boy interiority as a costume, is effective too. 

“cardigan” is more removed, less plaintive and shouty. This is a song from adult Betty’s perspective looking back on this period in her life and in her relationship with James, who the song seems to imply she is still with now. While—full offense—I believe marrying your high school girlfriend or boyfriend is a disorder which should have its own listing in the DSM, restoring order by putting the original couple back together so as to make the story one of true love triumphing over adversity, rather than a series of sketches of kids doing fuckup kid things just because it is not easy to be alive and to be alive alongside others and with gentleness, least of all when you are very new at it,  is the only conclusion this saga could ever have reached with Ms. Swift at its helm, and I do appreciate the consistent, if baby-brained, internal logic. I’ve never known a teenage girl whose signature garment was a cardigan and, frankly, this Betty sounds like sort of a self-absorbed drip (I do love, love, how Taylor’s own voice comes through so clearly on the lightly threatening, smug lines, “I knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired / And you’d be standing in my front porch light” !!) so I’m not totally surprised she got cheated on, but that’s very uncharitable of me and probably comes from the same meaty polyp in my brain that is responsible for my still loving all the hilariously mean-spirited, woman-hating songs on Speak Now.

“august” is about the other girl. The “her” in James’ rather pathetic defense, “slept next to her, but I dreamt of you all summer long”. “august” tells a story that brings to my mind another story. It is a story I won’t belabor because it is neither exciting nor unique. It will not illuminate an unexplored human experience, as it is, in fact, incredibly boring, regular, an incident which would be at home in any normal Tuesday, ordinary as meeting at the mall. This is a million years ago and there is a boy whose basement I go to sometimes after swim practice. We have matching team sweatpants with our names embroidered above the pocket at the right hip and I like to switch pairs. I’m you and you’re me and when we have pushed and bent the tiredness out of our muscles together, making experimental declarations in hushed voices down there while the furnace groans, well, then I’m you and me and you’re you and me and we are we are we are. 

One February day at twilight I bound out of the school building with wet hair and a fleece jacket, but his car is already gone. No worries. Standing at my locker the next afternoon like in a movie he will say, easy as anything, that he has a girlfriend, a family friend, two towns over, she goes to private school. You’ve probably met her, he says. And right then I remember that I have. Last year I did her zipper in the bathroom at a dance. We were fighting but we never really broke up, he says. For months you’ve been fighting? is all I say back. Fighting since October? As if that matters. Like that’s the point. My voice is pinched and ugly and I know I’ll hear that sound forever. Well, anyway... I feel bad. He doesn’t clarify for whom he feels bad. He’s got one sneaker toe working against the other one atop the tile floor that’s the murky green of sea glass. He looks at my St Brigid’s cross necklace, at the blue Masterlock hanging open like a broken jaw, at someone in a hoodie who punches his shoulder as they walk by. Nothing personal, he says, and there is a tiny smudge of cafeteria pizza at the corner of his mouth that I hadn’t noticed until that second and a day ago would’ve reached up and wiped away with the pad of my thumb, laughing. I get it, right? Oh, sure. 

The worst of it was not skipping pre-calc to cry in the bathroom, since, I mean, I couldn’t actually do pre-calc and would never learn how, but was inspecting my soul in the dark when I couldn’t sleep that night and finding part of me had known this all along, had chosen to pretend, wanted the wanting so badly I’d knocked from my brain the truth of how it was going to end. This would not be the last false love from which I’d find myself unceremoniously discarded, and in time I’d learn to be the liar myself, too. It’s unseemly to pathologize bad decisions, to take on poor impulse control or self-destructive patterns as an identity, but I do think that just as some people are born serial monogamists, part of a twosome forever with very little mess in-between, some of us were built from the very first cell to live like a pool ball struck and banging teeth first into the wrong mouths and hearts. I can examine my romantic history and tap my finger against the obvious errors, the times I chose what I knew would hurt me, when I ascribed hope to situations where it did not belong, when I, like the narrator of “august”, regarded someone as not mine to lose but still put myself in the position to be harmed by the losing, yet I can’t produce alternative choices that feel realistic. If you are in love and it doesn’t work out, there is mourning, there is pain, but there is all the while a record which shows something happened, it was real. “august” stands somewhat apart in the Taylor Swift catalog as a song neither about the glory of true love or the heartbreak when it’s over, but about the small, paper cut heartbreaks that are inescapable during each day of an untrue love. “It was never mine”. When it turns out you were wrong the whole time, fooling yourself, then even remembering that you’d been happy in the lie is like being trapped in a fun house, body bent and broken in the mirror, a thing not built right for this world. 

“august” is about the girl who James was with over the summer, the girl he leaves to return to Betty. Taylor said it’s the first of the three that she wrote, and I fear this has warmed me to her in some new and unsettling way. I fear this means she’s matured as a person and writer, capable now of a more expansive view of situations, to be generous. It’s like how you shouldn’t feed gremlins after midnight; there is no telling what new and more dangerous creature this woman might turn into if she’s suddenly been taught empathy. When Taylor-as-James in “betty” sings, “Would you trust me if I told you it was just a summer thing?” in his effort to woo Betty back I hate him a little, that thoughtless child undeserving of the kind of adoration in lines like, “your back beneath the sun / wishing I could write my name on it.” I try to extend grace to this fictional boy, but I think of the “Do you remember? in “august” and I feel a little sick from being so certain that no... No, he doesn’t. Not really.

“Back when we were still changing for the better / wanting was enough / for me it was enough”. I’d like to think there is no last chance to change for the better. I’d like to think wanting is enough so long as you want the right thing. I’d like to think that God made sure Taylor Swift became a singer instead of a young adult novelist because the absolute last thing this world needed was this freak joining the circus that is YA Twitter. Most of all, I like thinking that Judy Blume knows that her beautiful, searing, devastatingly romantic and also textually gay 1998 novel Summer Sisters is the only important book that has ever been published, and, further, that the world will show me the respect of understanding and accepting that “august”, when removed from the context of the Swiftian child romance trilogy, sounds as if it were specifically written in homage. Taylor, I know I’ve accused you of at least fifty crimes this week alone, but if you want to talk about Summer Sisters, please get in touch.

[seasami]

Larry Fic Rec -- June/July

hii!! so I’ve got some fics that I read in June and July (until now). If you see a ✰ next to a title it means I really liked it and it’s one of my favs from the ones I listed. If there’s a 🔒 next to title it means you have to be logged in to read.

[Click on the title for link]

                                               _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

Latitude by nikogda (44k)

Summary: Harry’s a hybrid on a boat about to be hit by a storm and Louis is the human who comes to his rescue. That storm is all the time they have to fall in love before going their separate ways. That is, until almost a year later… 

Ever Since I Tried Your Way by Anonymous ✰ (25k)

Summary: Harry had been kissed before, but never like this.He’d shared sweet, curious kisses behind bleachers and in soda shop booths, one or two more daring ones in cars parked on dark suburban streets, but the girls he’d kissed had never filled him with the desperation that erupted from Louis’ touch. He parted his lips and pulled him closer, as though he could breathe Louis straight into his lungs, as if he could swallow him. He wanted to consume Louis the way he consumed the body and blood of Christ. He wanted to place Louis on his tongue and feel him dissolve into a frothy mess of starch and saliva. He wanted to gulp him down until his teeth were stained purple and he was drunk on him. He wanted him in some violent holy way that made his hands shake where they were twisted in Louis’ shirt.

In 1949 Harry left his bride at the altar, running away from the only life he'd known. When a kindhearted farmer offers him a ride in his truck and a place to sleep the two find themselves inexplicably drawn together. Isolated on Louis' farm with nobody but a field of dairy cows to intrude, the men are finally able to explore the parts of themselves they've spent their lives hiding away.

No Candle No Light (No Friendzone To My Love) by Anonymous (11k)

Summary: Louis glanced at his friend, glaring daggers and Niall chuckled. He looked like his idea could end world hunger and Louis was horrified. [...]“Come on, Niall! Tell me!” Harry insisted, excited.“You can threaten him other than with violence. You said you want a little revenge, right? What if an ex-boyfriend came to reconquer you? You know, the jealous and aggressive kind.”Harry sighed loudly, closing his eyes. Louis frowned, just like Liam and Zayn. What was he talking about? And why was he still looking at Louis that way?“Niall, this could’ve been a nice idea if I had an ex-boyfriend, but-”“Let me explain!” Niall barged in. “ You don’t have an ex-boyfriend but you can pretend you have one! I’m sure Louis would love to help you with that.”Liam almost choked on his wine and Zayn bit so hard on his lip to contain his laughter that it might have bled. Niall looked satisfied as hell, of course he was the little shit, and Louis just had time to flip him the finger before Harry turned to him. He was fucking delighted.

Or the one where helping Harry getting rid of his boyfriend may be the only way to his heart

Sugar by lettersfromvenus (15k) ✰

Summary: 

“I hope our paths will ‘croissant’ again.” 

There’s a little smiley face drawn next to the words, and it’s ridiculous, Louis knows, but he can’t help the swell of butterflies that he feels as he reads over the words once more. An odd fellow indeed, he thinks.A moment later he shakes his head and collects himself, because he really does need to get home; he’s sure that Harry is probably watching him from behind the counter, all sweet, smug smiles and pink cheeks. And if he’s being honest, he’s not entirely sure he won’t toss his groceries into the trash and walk straight back into the bakery if he doesn’t leave now, so… he really does need to get going.

 Before he goes on his way, though, he plucks the note from the top of the container and carefully tucks it inside of his wallet to protect it from the rain.

That’s how it begins.

Only Been Here One Time by alienharry (10k)

Summary: 

“Good morning, Liam. Harry.” Louis nods at them both and then cocks his head. “Are you aware you have four nipples, Harry?”

Harry looks down at his chest, suddenly worried. He doesn’t know how many nipples humans have, but four must not be a usual amount. “Should I have six?”

“Not unless you’ve a litter of kittens to feed.”

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose by dolce_piccante (112k) ✰

I KNOW ITS ICONIC BUT I READ IT A MONTH AGO SO I THOUGHT I’D INCLUDE IT HERE. 

Summary: American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers). 

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football. 

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

It’s All Brand New by midnightwhistleberries (10k)

Summary: “Harry,” Louis intones emphatically, “literally everyone in the U.K. has known that I’m openly bisexual since 2011.” 

“’Cept you, I guess,” supplies Niall. 

In which Harry studies engineering, loves Madonna, and can't tell if Louis likes him or just keeps coming back to the record store because he's some sort of musical hoarder. Louis is famous, Harry has no idea, communication issues are rampant and fluffy pining ensues.

Fool For You by flowercrownfemme, lesbianferrissbueller (46k) ✰

Summary:  “It’s not a game.” Harry scoffed, trying to push past him once more but Louis held his ground. “And I’ve never once told you a lie.” “All you do is lie," Harry argued. "Jests and tricks and made up stories, that’s your trade. I’d never trust a word from your mouth.” “I tell stories,” Louis conceded, “but a good one must be based on truth. And my stories tend to get a bit more truthful when I’m around you, Princess.”

In which Harry is a brooding prince who's scarcely smiled since the death of his mother and Louis is the dashing jester hired to change that.

streetwise hercules by bottomlinsons (7k) 🔒

Summary: I said,” Louis’ voice is venomous, “who the fuck is this?”Right. This is Harry’s part.

(Uni AU, where Louis pretends to be Harry's boyfriend to scare away his one night stands.)

Close Enough To Touch by stinky28 (7k)

Summary: “You are killing it!” The stranger shouts in his ear, to which Louis raises a brow, setting up the next transition and song, bobbing a bit in place before glancing over to the stranger and Oh. Red. 

He’s staring right at a very large, oddly tied red bow tie. It takes up the whole stranger’s chest and..it’s bloody brilliant. He fucking loves it. He feels himself break into a giant grin, looking up at Mr. Red Bowtie’s face and Oh. Fuck. 

OR an au where louis is the dj for the met gala after party and harry can’t leave his side.

Hate Me To The Moon by harrystylesandstuff (83k)

Summary: The last thing Harry wanted was to spend his entire summer stuck with his dad's new fiancée and her kids. He wants no more when he learns she's a very religious dictator, raising a sixteen year old nun and a clean cut potential priest ass kisser.

Everything takes a slightly different turn, however, when Harry finds out his future step-brother is actually the rude stranger he caught sucking off a guy in a pub, far from the reserved Christian his mom thinks he is...

AU where Harry is a sexy nerd, Louis is a great actor, and they both pretend to hate each other's guts to convince themselves they're not feeling things future step-brothers shouldn't feel...

hush. by Wankerville (41k)

Summary: “I don't like you like that, Harry.”

“See,” Harry starts, Louis can hear the smile in his voice, “that's where I think you're lying.”

or an au where small towns suck, louis is losing it, and harry’s just too perfect.

The Unsuccessful Promise by trysomecats (11k)

Summary: At the end of the previous school year, Louis swore to everyone that he would return in the fall as an alpha. He made this promise especially to his arch-nemesis Harry Styles, who has already presented as an alpha himself. Unfortunately over summer break, the worst thing possible happens: Louis presents as an omega. Now school is back in session and he has to return and face the consequences of pre-determining his status. 

Featuring Liam and Zayn as Louis' doting and exasperated parents.

Autumn At My Window by TheCellarDoor (20k) 

Summary: A canon-compliant AU, in which Harry and Louis are both in the band and have been sharing flats and hotel rooms for nearly five years, but never made the leap past 'friends who are too close for comfort'. 

Featuring a lot of pining, Louis' addiction to Harry's scent, and a whole lot of sexual tension that might just snap loose when they decide to spend some time together all on their own.

OKAY! That’s it for now cause I don’t want this post to be too long (oof i’ve read a lot actually). I have Fic Rec June/July Part Two in drafts and im also gonna collect fics that I’ve read on my kindle (its usually above 50k and make a fic rec with them). Stay tuned and follow my blog so you don’t miss it idk <33. 

PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR FEEDBACK ON THIS: I can make: Iconic Fics, My Fav Fics or try and do some themed fic rec. LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D WANT THAT! 

[drunk-onsunlight]

Day #3 of Promptmas

Chapter 3: Mind if move in closer?

Summary:

Movie night between Ned, Betty, MJ and Peter and a little of Spidey patrolling NYC

Chapter 1: Beautiful what’s your hurry?

Chapter 2: I’ll hold your hands (they’re just like ice) 

Chapter 3

Concept: Caroling & Watching Christmas movies together

Dialogue: “The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!” & “I love you but your taste on Christmas music is horrible”

“Peter? Are you listening to me?” Ned told him over the earpiece. Peter was distracted. Thank God he wasn’t swinging, the cold air was hitting his face while he was sitting on a rooftop.

“sorry Ned. I’m just thinking about something”

“and that’s clearly bothering you. What is it? Is Morgan ok?” Peter loved the way his friends bounded with his little sister, they weren’t actually related but the feeling was just the same. And having Ned, Betty and MJ get along with her was pure magic, he felt like he could trust them with big things like the Stark relationship he held with not just Tony but Pepper, Morgan and Happy, even when MJ and Betty didn’t know he is Spider-Man.

“something Pepper said today.  I don’t know what she was talking, well, not what a who”

“a who? Ok, you need to speak clearly, you don’t make any sense, Peter”

"you know Morgan was visiting the apartment, right?" "yeap. What about that?" "well, at some point we were chatting and drinking some hot chocolate and Pepper called, I had the call on speaker and she said something a about "my girlfriend" that she wanted to meet her and should take her to their house for a coffee or a lunch or whatever. But I don't have a girlfriend" "yes, that's a little weird. Did Morgan know about that?" "no! She totally freak out and threat me for keeping secrets from her, then Em told her I was too weird to date someone and that was it" why he was friking out so much about a stupid conversation? He didn't have a girlfriend and he just needed to call Pepper and correct her. That was it "Peter, are you scared that MJ may think you actually have a girlfriend?" Peter sensed the smile on Ned's face without seeing him "what? Of course no. She doesn't have to do anything with this" nop, she wasn't the problem, he was just to anxious to call Pepper and correct her "hum. You sure? I remember you having a massive crush on her back in senior year at high school. Maybe living with her made those feelings show up again" now he was regretting telling Ned about that all those years ago "Ned, that was a long time ago and then, well, you know, Gwen and all of that happened and I don't think I have feelings for MJ or that I want to have a relationship with someone" Gwen was everything he ever dreamed in a girl and his Spider-Man duties messed everything up leaving him with another death on his shoulders alongside Ben's. That's exactly why he tried to protect MJ, she didn't need to be in danger just because she knew his secret identity. Ned never had problems with him being a target for being a FOS, but with Betty, that was other story and the same reason she didn't know either. "I'm just saying Peter. This doesn't have to be about Gwen or even MJ, it's about you totally friking out about something that can be fixed with a call. You need to sleep, all this patrol and the cold are messing with your head. Go get some rest Pete" Ned was right, he needed to sleep and call Pepper to clarify the wrong information. "I'm calling it quits for tonight. It was a slow night after all. Thanks for listening Ned, say hi to Betty for me please" after a short goodbye and a promise for a movie date with Peter and MJ, Ned finished the call and Peter got up from the rooftop. He arrived home at 2am, he was glad they could pay a small apartment with windows on both their rooms and not just one, like others he had visited while looking for a place to move. That made everything easier, MJ never knew when he went out or came back from patrol, and if something was too bad he texted her that he was out early when he probably was recovering in the Avengers facilities. The next day he woke up to MJ humming a pop song, she was in a good mood so probably she already took a tea or a coffee. Peter got 4 full hours of sleep since he arrived from patrol and he considered that a win.

“Mornin’” Peter knew he looked totally wrecked but he felt good, like the Christmas spirit was taking over him.

“Hey, loser. Want some coffee?” Her hair was on a messy bun. All her curls were framing her face, she looked beautiful.

“Yeah. Thanks”

“I was thinking, maybe we could decorate today. Do you have something to do?”

“Aammm, no. I’m free. Jameson haven’t called and I am not offering myself until next Monday, I’m really tired” Ned was right, he needed to rest. Rhino, college, The Bugle… J. J. Jameson and his idea that Spider-Man was a threat but anyway having photos of him on every front page he could, everything was too much right now.

“Have you talked to Ned? He said something about a movie night with Betty the other day when we talked” Yes! The movie night they have agreed last night.

“Yeah. He mentioned something last night. We can decorate the apartment and then invite them for some fun. I think we need it” He knew MJ was stressed too and having Betty and Ned around was a good distraction for everyone.

He took his coffee and then helped MJ doing some scrambled eggs for they breakfast and he went to take a shower. After his shower he changed clothes to some Christmas sweeter that he knew MJ was going to make fun of it. While he was deciding in using his Spider-Man socks or his Christmas tree socks he started playing some carols on his phone. He created a full playlist on his Spotify for this moment.

He went out of his room and found Michelle carrying the boxes with the Christmas decorations. How she managed to hold three boxes at the same time was a mystery. If he didn’t knew he was Spider-Man he could swear that she was Spider-Man, but that was a stupid idea. MJ was strong enough to lift the boxes by herself without superpowers, maybe they weren’t that heavy and he was just making things up.

“Oh, God! Seriously? That one?” Peter knew MJ didn’t like that sweeter. It was a Rudolf one with a big red nose that you pressed and it started playing Christmas carols, May bought it for him two years ago and he loved it.

“I know you secretly love it. Press the nose”

“No!”

“Press the nose. I know you want to” He crossed the living room and got close to her

“No! Stop it” She started to run away from him, sorting boxes while crossing the room

“Press the nose, come on MJ!” he was trying to get to her and they ended up running around the sofa, avoiding the boxes and the coffee table. MJ started laughing when Peter got close to her and tried to grab her arm but she managed to get loose and he ended holding her hand for a few seconds until she kept running away.

“We need to start decorating or Ned and Betty are going to arrive and we haven’t done anything” She was still laughing. Peter loved to make her laugh, it wasn’t an easy task but he loved the challenge.

They spend the morning and past midday decorating a Christmas tree that was basically some fake branches placed like a real Christmas tree, MJ said it reflected her soul. Every Christmas, Peter decorated the branches with bright colors, he hang some toys or pushies and tried to add many colors to it. He said to MJ that it was the perfect representation of the two of them, the black, perfectly placed branches for her and the colorful decorations for him.

MJ placed the stockings on their small fake fireplace along with some holly, then moved to the window and decorated it with led lights and tinsel, she finished the decorations placing the wreath on their front door. Everything looked perfect, now they needed to set their cushions and blankets for their movie night.

Two hours later the apartment looked totally different from the day before. Ned and Betty arrived after MJ and Peter took their lunch. They opened the door and found a very smiley Betty using a pink dress and a huge fluffy coat accompanied with Ned using a Christmas sweeter and jeans.

“Hey Betty!” MJ and Betty always found lots of things to talk about. Betty had managed to make MJ open more about her feelings, her college and even family, Peter was very impressed by Betty and her ability to make MJ talk like her life depended on it. But Ned and Peter were never included in those kinds of conversations.

“Hey Dork” in high school MJ called them losers or dorks, now Peter was the loser and Ned was the dork. MJ and Ned did a little hand shake they made up in high school and she moved back a little so Peter could say hi to their friends while everybody entered the apartment. Ned and Peter did their usual handshake and then Peter kissed Betty’s cheek.

“MJ, the apartment looks amazing” Betty was looking around the living room like she was in the White House and surrounded of the most beautiful Christmas decorations

“It was mostly me so, thank you”

“Hey!! I helped!”

“The tree, right Peter?” Betty knew them too well

“Of course. That masterpiece is my doing” He was very proud of this year results with the decoration of the tree and Ned was looking at it like it was the most beautiful Christmas tree ever

“I love it, Peter” Ned said, always being the supporting friend

“MJ we can make some pizza for the movie night while the boys look for the movies we can watch. Would you like that?” Peter knew that was a key word for “we need to talk without loser and dork listening”

“Yes! I would love to” They moved quickly to the kitchen and started talking right away in whispers.

“That was fast” Ned was looking at Betty with adoring eyes while Peter was looking at MJ moving around the kitchen, totally owning the small space

“Well, we can make the best of our time without them”

“Christmas carols?” they looked at each other on a silent talk they have grown to develop along the years they have meet

Peter showed Ned his playlist full of Christmas carols and they connected a small speaker so they could hear the music through the whole apartment.

“ Jingle bells, jingle bells Jingle all the way Oh, what fun it is to ride In a one horse open sleigh”

The speaker started to sing and soon both of them started to sing along.

“Hey, jingle bells, jingle bells Jingle all the way Oh, what fun it is to ride In a one horse open sleigh”

Ned turned the volume up and stared to sing louder with Peter, making both girls to turn around and look at them. They were singing louder and louder each time the same lines were sung by the speakers on the living room.

“Ned!!!” Peter heard Betty over the loud music and pocked Ned for him to just sing louder

“Ned, Betty is calling you” Peter told Ned close to his ear so he made sure Ned was listening to him. He stopped singing and ran to the kitchen to hug Betty

“I’m here. Do you need anything?” Peter could see how soft Ned was around Betty all the time, it was really nice to see them so happy and comfortable with each other

“Yes. Can you do me a favor? Stop singing, please. I love you but your taste on Christmas music is horrible” Betty was looking at Ned with all the love in the planet but serious enough for Ned to know that she mean it

“Not just that the song is totally awful and the lyric doesn’t make sense but also that you both are terrible singers”

“Aw MJ! But the best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!”

“Then can you take some singing lessons for next year?” MJ was teasing him, he wasn’t that bad at singing. He knew it

“Just if you sing with me” He had heard MJ singing and she was really good at it, but she never let anyone hear her singing too loudly, just soft whispers. With that comment MJ turned around and kept doing the base for the pizza. Ned said something to Betty’s ear and then gave her a little peck on the cheek and moved away from her.

Peter could see MJ and Betty chatting while Betty was putting some toppings for the pizza, at the same time she was telling Michelle something and they both looked excited over what they were speaking. Well, as excited as MJ could look over Betty’s news. Her face was mostly expressionless but her eyes were shinning, that was all he needed to know she was interested in whatever they were talking.

“Peter?”

“Mmm?”

“Can you stop looking at MJ with those puppy eyes and pay attention to me?” Ned had a mocking tone

“I’m not making “puppy eyes” at MJ”

“Then I’m getting worried if those eyes are for Betty” Ned was having too much fun mocking him “But seriously, I need to tell you something” Peter turned his head to see Ned’s face and found mixed emotions there

“What is it?”

“I need your help for buying Betty’s Christmas present”

“Yeah, of course. Do you know what to buy or you want me to ask her casually what she wants?”

“I know what I’m buying but I need you to go with me and pick it with me”

“Okaaaay… Can I know what is it? It’s like a big thing? Do we need to hire someone to help us take it to your house?” Peter was confused to say the least

“I’m buying an engagement ring” Ned spoke so fast and so quiet that if it wasn’t for Peter superpowers he had totally missed the phrase

“Ned, that’s amazing!” Peter was really happy for them and totally available to help them to be happy together

“It’s not a surprise, but it is a surprise. We have talked about getting married eventually and we have been dating for a long time and living together is just feels right, so I want to make it official” Peter had a small flashback to a few hours ago, how living with someone felt right. Him trying to catch MJ, making breakfast and shopping with Morgan. Some things felt right, so he totally got what Ned was talking about. Not that he was getting married to MJ but they were close enough to understand the feeling

“Tell me when and where and I will be there. I will be happy to help”

“Thanks! I really want to pick the perfect ring for her” now Ned was making puppy eyes at Betty. It was really cute to see them so in love after such a long time.

“Guys! Pizza is almost done so that movies better be ready” Betty was pointing at them with a spatula as a threat

“They will be ready when you both finish that delicious pizza, honey” Ned moved quickly to the bag were he had brought the movies for them to watch. They picked Love Actually, they all loved the movie and it was perfect for the season.

They girls took the two pizzas they made to the coffee table and some plates. Ned ran to the kitchen and grabbed some mugs and the soda from the fridge. Their sofa wasn’t big enough for the four of them so Peter sat on the floor and helped pouring the soda on the four mugs. MJ closed the curtains and turned off the light. When everything was ready Ned sat with Betty lying on the couch with her head on Ned’s lap. Peter knew MJ wasn’t going to make Betty move to a sitting position for her to sit on the sofa with them, so she sat next to Peter on the floor.

Ned took the remote and stared the movie. Soon enough they finished the homemade pizzas and drank the soda. MJ covered herself with a blanket after half the movie and rested her head on the couch, close to Betty’s knees. Peter could see her trying not to fall asleep, he moved to place his empty mug on the coffee table and placed himself closer to MJ than he was before.

Their arms were pressed against each other and he felt MJ laughing softly to something happening on the movie. He wasn’t paying attention anymore, too focused on the heat radiating from MJ while she was tightly wrapped on her blanket. Was she actually cold? While Peter was divagating, MJ placed her head on Peter shoulder and he froze.

He thanked every God, Lord and Supreme master he was taller than MJ now, just for a few centimeters but that small difference made easier for them to keep the posture without hurting MJ’s neck. He tried not to breath too hard to not bother her or make her move, he also pretended not to hear her heart racing while placing his head over hers  and then slowing down as she felt asleep. The movie was coming to an end and he tried to look at Ned.

Betty was asleep on Ned’s lap and he was playing with her hair. They shared a look and decided to wake the girls up so they could all go to sleep. After they woke up, Betty and Ned decided to go home, it wasn’t late after all. MJ and Peter organized the room and lifted everything from the coffee table and took the plates and mugs to the kitchen. Peter was definitely skipping patrol, he wanted to rest a little now that Rhino had disappeared several days ago. He knew he was coming back any minute and he needed to be ready for that.

[susiequaz12]

Like Usual

CW: Not really whump- just an emotional sad little drabble I wrote a bit ago. It’s kinda sad, but also fluffy and light if that makes sense? Some medical stuff referenced and implied and vomiting/medicine and stuff too. But that’s about it.

- - -

“Okay. Uhh- what am I wearing this time?” He asked.

“Umm- cargo shorts, with a ridiculous amount of pockets. And a Hawaiin shirt. But you look a lil dumb cause you’ve got a hoodie tied around your waist in case I get cold, and, uh- I’m in those blue shorts I got from Walmart, and my white shirt with flowers on it.” 

He laughed. “Okay, so what’s the occasion? Where are we at?”

She thought for a second. “The amusement park.” 

“The amusement park?! You mean the one across the highway? I-I could never handle that. It, it just wouldn’t work.”

She looked at him, folding her arms across her chest. “Dude, this whole scenario is imaginary anyways, just roll with it. You can do whatever.”

“Do I really have to be in a Hawaiin shirt and cargo shorts though?” He complained.

“Yes. It adds to the realism.”

“Okay then, what’s first.” 

“Food obviously, and then those little stores and the magic shows and stuff so we can digest- then all of the rides. And games in between.”

“Games?”

“Yeah, the carnival games that are rigged and make you lose all your money. You have to win me one of those ridiculously oversized stuffed animals so that it looks like I’m your spoiled girlfriend. It’s the rules. But I make you carry it around the entire time afterwards, and then it sits on my bed and I do nothing with it, but it’s a cute reminder of that one time we went to the park together and you won me that giant blue panda.”

“Wow, I thought you said this was an imaginary scenario? That sounds oddly specific to me.” He laughed, and the girl punched him in the arm. “Ouch! Careful, I’m fragile.” 

“Sorry...”

“Okay food. What are we eating?”

Her excitement perked up again. “Um, let’s see- we have to get all staples. Corn-on-the-cob of course, and those barbecue sandwiches they have, and then the cheesecake on a stick. Dip-n-dots, churros, pizza. Everything that’s so greasy it clogs your heart- And, and then deep-fried oreos! Oh! And that lemonade that thye’ve got- the one that says it’s so fresh you’d slap it!” 

She bounced up and down on the edge of the bed, visualizing all of the food in front of her. 

“Oh my gosh... deep fried oreos...” He said. “What have I been missing?” 

He sighed, but became immediately silent as his face went pale. One hand covered his mouth and the other went to his stomach as he sat up quickly. He grappled about for something, and she found the tan bowl that was on the opposite side of the bed. He gripped the sides with both hands and she held up the bottom of the bowl, her other hand rubbing his back as he emptied the contents of his stomach. Once he finished, she set the bowl on the side table, his head falling onto her shoulder, her hand still on his back.

He waved his hand. “Go on. We had just finished the food.” 

“Uh, okay- yeah. You good?”

He sat up and smiled, wiping his mouth off with the sleeve of his paper-thin gown. “Like usual.”

She nodded. “So there’s all those stores and vendors there. So, while- um, while holding hands if you wanted, we’d just walk around. And comment on the artwork and the merchandise like critics. Then we’d try on ridiculous pairs of sunglasses, or hats, and pretend that we’re actually considering buying things when in reality everything is too overpriced.”

“And I’ve spent all my money trying to win you that stupid panda.”

“Yeah!” She laughed. He smiled.

His hands reached over to hers and the two teenagers sat criss-cross-applesauce on the bed, facing each other. 

“Your hands are cold.” 

He laughed. “Yeah, they usually are.” Then he smirked- “So- exactly how dumb did I look in those sunglasses?”

“Oh, considerably. Enough that I’d almost consider buying them for you out of spite.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

“Oh, maybe I would! After all, you wasted your money on winning me that blue panda, so I’ll waste all my money on a dumb pair of sunglasses for you.”

“As I recall from this fantasy, it wasn’t a waste- because I got you that blue panda, so you’re welcome!” He laughed, erupting from his belly. She couldn’t help but smile.

The times when he laughed were the best times the two had shared together. It helped add to the normalcy. It’s why the girl still came there almost every day after school, bringing his homework, and creating these stories. 

“So then what’s next?” He asked.

“The Ferris wheel. Obviously. It’s the best ride that there is! You get to spend a lot of time just sitting up there, and watching the view. You can see the horses at the farms in the distance, and the mountains. And then if it’s dark you can see all the stars. And then the lights from the rides below, and all of the cars and houses. It just creates this sort of eerie, and, and ethereal glow. It just sets the whole mood.” 

He was looking out the window now. It was nearing after dinner time. The cream colored curtains seemed as dead as the atmosphere as they hung loosely around the window frame. 

“You know, that’s something I could do.” He stated, never taking his eyes off of the window. “Just go outside, ride the Ferris wheel. Even just look at the stars.”

It was too cold for him to go out and look at the stars. The ground was still covered with snow and the wind was still too harsh.

She nodded. “Yeah. Maybe, maybe this summer. We’ll do it this summer.” 

He nodded but still didn’t look at the girl. 

They both knew he wasn’t going to make it till this summer. 

Shaking his head, he came back to reality. Well, their make-believe reality anyways. 

His voice was soft. “So, uh, we ride the ferris wheel. Then what?”

“Um, well…” She pushed her hand through her hair. Struggling to find words to continue the story. Her mind had gone back to the much darker reality from their make believe world. The girl sighed and took his hand again, this time it was her turn to look out the window. 

“Uh, listen. I’m, I’m sorry... I’m sorry that you can’t actually come and eat cheesecake, or deep fried oreos and crap, and- and that the park is so far away. And that this- none of this, is ever going to come close to actually being able to actually go out and do all of it, or even just coming back to school, and I’m sorry that I-”

“Shut up.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah.” He said. He fiddled with the edge of his blanket. “Shut up! Do you think I enjoy being cooped up in this hospital? Being poked and prodded, and left alone all day? I live every day having everyone feel sorry for me, I don’t need sympathy from you too.”

He sighed and she wiped away a tear that had dripped down her cheek. His voice softened.

“Don’t you think I want to go back to school? Gosh, I sound ridiculous, but I want nothing more than to have homework- and to try out for the swim team, or go to movies or the park, or just be a dumb teenager? I’m seventeen for goodness sake! I should be out going to parties, and driving around town, and taking the ACTs, and, and taking you to Prom! Not taking medication, and getting tested and having treatments, and, and balding! So shut up, okay? -please?”

“You want to take me to prom?” She asked tentatively.

“Yes! I want to swirl you around the floor in your dress and your tennis shoes and then mess up your hair and spill punch on your dress and kiss you behind the lockers while hiding from the chaperones.”

A hint of a smile crept across her face and she wiped away another tear. He brushed away the hair that had fallen in her face and let his fingers rest by her cheek.

“This. This is the best part of my day. When you come in here and tell me the dumb thing that one kid did in history, or the new song you’re playing in band. Or you tell me what your grandma did during sunday dinner and I tell you what the nurses did during my checkup. And especially, especially when you come and make up these dumb stories. These fantasies of things we go do, memories we’d create.” He chuckled and pulled her hands down into his lap. “Honestly, that one where we robbed the ice cream shop and ran from the police is still my favorite.” 

She smiled. “Yeah- I had to be kinda creative with that one.” 

“So please-” he squeezed her hands. “-please don’t apologize or feel sorry. Or think that what you come and do here every day isn’t enough. Because like usual, I’ve come to expect it as part of this daily routine I’ve got going on. And like usual, it never fails to put a smile on my face, and make me laugh.” 

His volume lowered and the boy leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to think of a day when I don’t get to see your nerdy face, and hear these dumb stories and, and hold your hand, okay. Okay?”

She nodded. “Me too.” 

But she would have to think of that day. She was the one who’d eventually have to stop coming to see him. The one who’d have to let him go. 

But like usual, she’d keep coming in here every day until that happened- eventually. And like usual, she’d sacrifice her time, and her emotions to be there for him. To keep him strong until he couldn’t be there anymore.

She heaved a sigh, choked back a sob, and pressed her hand against the back of his neck, pulling them closer together.

Her voice was shaky but her words were clear. 

“You all good?” She asked.

He nodded. “Like usual.”

- - -

Why do I write stuff that’s sad? So I wrote this like, at the end of last year. And thought I’d bring it back and edit it and post it and stuff. It’s not related to anything, just a weird little drabble, that, that gave me the feels ngl. So sorry--- but not really I guess. @imagination1reality0

[spinel-is-adorable]

The Beach Party

SPINEL!GREASER X FEMALE READER Okay so uh-this one might be a bit of a mix bag? I tried to make it 1950′s themes but I think i just went all over the place. Either way I think this is as good as its going to get so have fun! @knifebean @spinelxreader (Yes Hello I’m the mysterious anon : D hope you two like this!)  1,131 words (oh dear lord I wrote it long again) Heated kissing near the end!  -------- The smell of the beach was overwhelming as you stepped out of the car with  Steven and Connie, the salty smell making you take a deep breath with a smile as you stared out into the night. You had only been in beach city for about two years but you wonder how you could have ever lived in Empire City before your parents uprooted you and themselves to Beach City. “ Y/N! Come on the party’s down here!” Breaking from your trance you nearly tripped over your own feet trying to get around the back car door, at the sound of Steven’s voice beckoning you over. You looked over the  beach to see it had been set up to allow a dance floor and a stage for the performers to sing on, it looked swell if you did say so yourself. But if you had to be honest you weren’t quite the party type. The only real reason you were here was because of Steven if he was going you were being invited. The boy’s been trying to break you out of your social awkwardness since he’s met you but from what you’ve heard you aren’t surprised. Apparently the kid is friends with just about everyone-like some sort of super friend magnet. And being an opposite you were pulled right in.

Walking down the board walk you caught up with the two who were happily chatting about how much fun you three were going to have. Some were dressed in fancy dresses and others went more casual, the party being hosted by the Pizza’s to try and strum up some business with their pizza parlor.

“ So what do we do at these par-ties?” You asked feigning like you had no idea what a party even was. 

“ Well first you gotta get some food!” Connie said reaching over and taking your wrist to pull you over to the food table. There were several types of pizza’s among other food on the tables, taking the girls advice you grab a plate and a slice of your favorite-snagging a drink on the way. The three of you took your seats as you ate, talking about random topics until the sound of a motorcycle caught some attention.

 Well. That wasn’t a surprise they would show up. 

Looking up to the parking lot you saw a black Ford pull in with one blue occupant hanging out the window and a motorcycle right behind it and only with one passenger. Crybaby. Or Spinel-as it’s her actual name but good luck calling her that without her permission. You haven’t met the girl but you’ve heard the rumors. It was actually a bit intimidating for you, you had avoided the group altogether when you first transferred over. Hearing about all the fights and mischief the group gets into. Typical greaser group.

You pretty much avoided them since you transferred.

“ Oh it’s Spinel!” Why were you not surprised when Steven of all people said her name with a big smile and quickly handed Connie her food, telling her he was going to say ‘Hi!’ to the gang for a moment. You looked to the girl obviously asking questions mentally as your mouth was currently stuffed with some pizza.

 “ Steven’s known Crybaby for a while, think he accidentally dented her bike but offered to fix it himself and they just started talking.” Connie shrugged before taking another sip of her drink. “ Sometimes she’s over at his house and they just play board games all day! You didn’t hear that from me though.” 

Now that had you stifle a laugh, “ Heard what?”, you had no intention to get onto Spinel’s bad side so that little secret would stay locked with the key thrown out into the ocean.

 Steven soon rejoined your group just as a song that had everyone hopping out of their seats and running to the dance floor. 

Good golly,Miss Molly, sure like to ball!

 You couldn’t help but dance in your chair as it was one of your favorites too but seeing all those people out of the floor made your stomach feel like bricks. Dancing wasn’t one of your strong suits which is why you kept it to your room and avoided parties in the first place. But Steven just wouldn’t let you sit down and enjoy from afar, he along with Connie jumped up and dragged you along when she pulled you up from your chair.  “ W-wait no I really-”  “ Come on Y/N!”  “ Yeah you need to have a little fun!”  The two pulled you into a three-way circle dance, your hands locking together as you tried to keep up with their feet. Once you got into the rhythm you began to move in sync with the two, a smile lighting up your face as you began to actually have some fun.  Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball. Good golly, Miss Molly, sure like to ball. When you're rockin' and a rollin' can't hear your momma call.

Others had made room for you three on the dance floor as you twisted and turned, lost in your own little head as you felt your feet move for you. You didn’t notice when the other two broke off, they sure didn’t either as the song changed and they were swallowed into the crowd separating the three of you. Once you opened your eyes you realized that you were left alone in a crowd of people you don’t know all of who weren’t paying a smidgen of attention to you. 

Well except one. 

Suddenly your hand was seized by a much larger one, twirling you around until you were flush against his chest staring up into his shining greedy smile. 

Kevin. 

Well fuck. 

“ Hey there, toots. Fancy a dance?” You ain't nothin' but a hound dog Cryin' all the time You ain't nothin' but a hound dog Cryin' all the time Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine He didn’t give you much chance as you stammered out a mutter of words that sounded more like you were choking on something. Kevin pulled you along the dance floor his hand on your hip before he grips your hands and twirls you around, you had no choice but to be his ragdoll. Kevin was a special guy, he’s always hitting on every girl he could get too and he’s tried several times with you which you’ve turned down every time. But he just didn’t learn.  Becoming a bit more aware of the situation you finally tried to break from the guy, “ Let me go, Kevin. I need to find-” “ Don’t think so, sweetheart. You know I’ve asked nicely before but I think I need to show you the kind of guy I am!”  Well they said you was high-classed Well, that was just a lie Ya know they said you was high-classed Well, that was just a lie Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine A quick twirl had you seeing stars and feeling sick when he dipped you only to snap you back up and twirl you again, “ Kevin! I’m serious!” Oh jeez-where was Steven? Usually he’d pawn the guy off of you, “ I don’t want to dance anymore.” This time you managed to get your hands out of his but he quickly grabbed you around the waist just to pull you back in.  “ Come on, Baby. Why don’t you just give me a chance?” “ Maybe because the girl just ain’t interested ya mook.”  That had the both of you looking up only to see the one person you didn’t think you’d ever get too close to, Spinel. The girl was wearing her signature spiked jacket, leather pants with the heart belt buckle and her steel toed pointed boots.  And she wasn’t alone either, her crew were right behind her, the crowd has broken up forming a circle around you as the music continued. It seemed she and her crew had been dancing as well before she caught sight of your little predicament. Steven and Connie soon joined along side them, Steven going to say something before Kevin spoke up. “ And just what do you want?”  “The girl said she didn’t want ta’ dance anymore. “ Spinel was obviously agitated, looked like she was ready to throw the first punch if he didn’t let go soon.   “ She just needs a bit of convincing. Most girls do.”  “ Ya know I just looove that part were guys like you think ya can do whateva you want. If ya don’t let go you’re cruising for a bruisin.” “ Don’t you know who I am?”  “Does it look like I give a damn!?” You took the opportunity to break free of his grasp when Kevin was distracted, the boy looking distraught then annoyed as you sauntered on over next to Spinel with a grateful little smile intending to hide behind her. What you didn’t expect was for her to pull you in close by throwing her arm over your shoulder, you could feel your heartbeat spike as she growled. Your cheeks growing warm.  “ Scram!” With that one word Kevin finally gave up, even though he knew not to mess with the one person who was known to be unpredictable. Hunching his shoulders and swore under his breath as he walked off the dance floor and hopefully back home. A wave of relief comes over you as you relax your muscles. “ Ya okay, Babydoll?” The tall girl looked at you with a glint of worry in her eyes, the arm becoming tighter for a moment before finally letting you go.  “ Y-yeah I’m fine..” You stammered out the words rubbing your arm, “ You uh-didn’t have to do that.”  “ Yeah I did. I don’t like it when I see mooks like him causing trouble. Well trouble that ain’t fun for no one. And I just hate that guy.” Her tone suggested the two might of had a history but you weren’t about to ask questions. Plus Steven practically tackled you in a hug. “Y/N I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to lose you in that crowd we just kinda-” “Steven!....Steeevveenn! Steven!” Oh man did your heart break seeing your curly haired friend just worry over you. While Steven was telling you his woes Spinel looked you up and down, a small smile on her lips as she decided to walk away while you were distracted-going back to her group.  “ It’s okay just calm down there buddy.” Patting him on the head he finally quieted down as you looked back up to thank Spinel but she was nowhere to be seen. You were going to thank her but it seems she left before you could.  “ Hey Steven I think i just want to go home.”  The weekend came and went like it usually did and while you didn’t exactly like school but you didn’t hate it either. Sure some subjects were annoying but you quite like others.  But you also had a mission, someone needed to be thanked. Though that was becoming much harder than you think it would be as somehow Spinel was a rather hard person to find! You didn’t have any classes with her, you did have one with Bismuth but you weren’t exactly comfortable to ask her about her friend. At least not yet. It wasn’t until around lunch time when you spotted the pink haired girl cut back around the school, you had plans with Steven and Connie but they would understand.  Following her you tried to be quiet as you didn’t want to startle her, she turned a corner and as you did you opened your mouth to say a greeting only to get snatched and smacked into the wall! You looked into the pink eyes of an equally confused Spinel who immediately backed off, “ Whoa-sorry about that. Thought ya were one of the rowdy boys from the city.” Her eyes looked over you like she did the other night, worried she might have hurt you.  “ It’s uh-its okay.” You shrugged it off ignoring the slight twinge of pain from your back, “ But uh-I wanted to talk to you.”  “ You wanted ta talk to me?” “ Yeah I just...wanted to thank you for the other night. You know-with Kevin? You walked off before I could.”  Her expression turned to one of surprise as she looked you over putting her hands in her leather jacket pockets looking away, was she being shy? “ Ey’ no big deal. Just trying to keep jerks like him in his place.” She smiled and shrugged her shoulders, “ And you're okay right? I know I asked before but-” “Oh nono! I’m okay! I uh went home after that...just wanted to sleep it off.”  “Hasn’t bothered you since right?”  “Nope.”  “Cool.” Spinel looked off to the side, seemingly not sure what to say.   Oh no it's getting awkward.! Quick think of something! “ I’m Y/N!” You thrust your hand out for a shake and smile wide.  Like an idiot. Spinel looked at your hand for a moment before she let out a chuckle and took it giving your hand a hearty shake.  “ Crybaby. But you know what? Call me Spinel.” Ever since that lunch period you’re finding yourself around Spinel much more, she just pops up in the hallways checking in on you or she meets you just as your leaving campus-even a few times in the bathroom! Heck even the other members of the gang began to say things to you, Bismuth began helping you in class and even Peridot showed you some cool gadget she’s working on. Lapis has stayed distant but you get a smile from her every once in a while.  It didn’t take long for the few of you to began hanging out after school, your parents were of course worried about you hanging out with a hooligan like Spinel and the others but once you reassured them they backed off. Letting you have your fun of kicking the can or dancing at the diner with the jukebox.  And during all this you couldn’t help but find yourself starting to..fall for the rough n’ tough girl. Spinel under her tough exterior was rather sweet-tooth rotting sweet! She would never admit it but she had a heart of gold underneath that spiked leather jacket she always wore.  But one night she invites you up to the hills, usually a make-out point for the teens of Beach City, just the thought of being there with Spinel made your heart thump hard in your chest. You hadn’t told her anything about the growing feelings you had and you weren’t sure if you were going too. Would she even like you back? It would ruin everything if she didn’t.  You didn’t want to lose her.  But there was no way she was going to confess to you on the hill right? She probably uses it to just get away from life. And how could she love someone like you? You were a giant dork who just got lucky with knowing one of the coolest girls in school. Everything was just going to be normal and okay and fine.  Everything was not fine. No. Nope. No way in hell-why did you agree to this?  Spinel had been the only one to show up to your home, she had been the only one to pick you up with her motorcycle (you had to ride on the back, hugging her the whole way up the hill) and you two were the only ones on the hill tonight.  Fuck. She’d been quiet for a little while, just standing there and looking over the city. What was she thinking? Why was she thinking so hard?  “ Ya know I’ve been thinkin’ a lot lately.”  Her voice drew you out of your thoughts as you looked at her, you still sitting sideways on her bike that was now parked and Spinel leaning on the fence of the hill. “ About what?” You asked, hoping it wasn’t about anything specific.  “ You.” Oh no-your heart began to pound in your chest, “ What about me?” “ How you’re probably the prettiest girl I’ve eva seen.” Spinel pulled away from the fence beginning to walk towards you, letting out a small chuckle at your stunned red colored expression.  “O-oh uh...” “ And about how I’ll probably never find anyone else like you.” She was now standing before you, her hands pulling out of her pockets only for her to lean down close to you as they rest on the seat to either side of you. “ You feel it to don’t cha?”  You couldn’t get a word out with her so close to you, feeling her breath on your lips as she looked straight into your eyes. You managed to get out a little nod, she smiled as if she knew that would be the answer. Spinel looked at your for a second more before she broke the bridge between you two, locking your lips together. It took you a moment but you returned it, the kiss soon turned into a heavy heated make-out as Spinel cupped your face and gave your lip a gentle bite. She began to push more leaning you back to a point where you could have fallen but a hand to your back kept you steady.  But the both of you needed air, she pulled back her face just as red as yours.  “ There ya go, Babydoll. Ain’t good to hold up those feelin’s is it?” Her thumb caressed your cheek before she let go and gripped your hands.  “ ...How long?”  “ A few weeks.Kinda hard to miss those heart eyes of yours.“ Spinel pecked your lips once again briefly, you trying to follow after her. “ Okay okay-hang on, Doll. Come’er I got something for ya.”  Spinel pulled you off the seat and directed you to stand beside the motorcycle. “ You got me something?”  Curious you leaned in to see what she was doing. She leaned down towards her bike, “ Well if you’re gonna be my gal..” pulling open the compartment on her bike to pull out what looked like a leather jacket. It didn’t have the usual spikes or band patches like the others had but as she turned it around...you gasped.  On the back of the jacket was the name “BabyDoll” stitched into the letter in gold and pink lettering, roses and forget-me-not patches were ironed on all over the place. It looked absolutely beautiful to you.  “ So whaddya say? Be my gal?”  You looked at her for a moment before you walked up to her and took the jacket, slipping it on getting a feel for it. “Yes.” 

[foursideharmony]

Division of Labor

Summary: Creativity was not the first Side to split...

Word Count: 3,673

Relationship(s): Uh...hard to say. None of the characters are fully formed in this.

Warnings: Blood and violence mentions, arguing, proto-Deceit

When Thomas Sanders was very small, he got in trouble for hitting his brother, who was even smaller. They had been playing in the living room on a quiet evening, and Thomas saw movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see little Shea shamble over and start messing with the Spider-Man doll—his Spider-Man doll, that he won fair and square from the crane game in the pizza place while everyone cheered—and so he went over and smacked him. Shea dropped the doll, wailing, and Thomas grabbed it.

Dad saw the whole thing, of course. Oops. And Thomas was made to sit in the time-out chair for four whole minutes in a row and then apologize to Shea, and only then did Dad ask him why.

“That's not a good enough reason to hit someone,” Dad said afterward. “You should never hit. Your mom and I never hit you, even when we're angry, because it's not right. We use the time-out chair instead. Do you understand? It's not right to hit, especially someone smaller than you.”

Thomas did understand. The words right and wrong were frequently said in the Sanders household, so he knew they were important. He picked up the Spider-Man doll and handed it to Shea, who was by that point engrossed in some other toddler activity and simply threw it halfway across the room, but it was the thought that counted.

The next day, Thomas had kindergarten, which was the best now that he was used to being away from Mom and the house all morning. There were so many other kids his age to play with, and picture books to look at, and toys they didn't even have at home. And twice a week they had Arts and Crafts, which was, like, the best of the best! Thomas could never keep the grin off his face when the teacher opened the big cabinet and brought out the stacks of paper and six big jugs of finger paint with the pump spigots.

“Today we're going to do something special,” the teacher said. “We're going to learn how to mix colors with paint! I know you can all name these colors...” And she pointed to each of the six jugs in turn, and the children dutifully named the colors with one voice:

“Red! Blue! Green! Yellow! White! Black!”

“But what if we want more colors than that? What if we want orange? Or purple? Or brown? How would we get them?”

Something went ping! in Thomas's head, and he raised his hand so fast that he felt his shoulder pop a little.

“Yes, Thomas?”

“Red and yellow make orange!” Thomas said breathlessly.

“That's right!” said the teacher. “Good job, Thomas! Everyone take a little bit of red and a little bit of yellow and mix it on your paper!”

Now something in Thomas's head went whummmmmm, because the teacher had just used the same word Dad had used the previous evening.

Right...

Hitting Shea wasn't right. “Red and yellow make orange” was right. But the two...weren't the same, were they? It wasn't bad to mix other paints, trying to get orange. It just wouldn't work. And while hitting Shea had certainly worked to get Spider-Man away from him, it made Dad angry...it made Shea angry, for that matter, and even the memory of it made Thomas feel bad. It was mean.

Thomas had a lot to learn about right and wrong. What they actually meant, for starters.

*****

Whummmmmmm...

In the depths of Thomas Sanders's mind, someone coalesced from the swirls of thought and emotion. He didn't have a defined form just yet, but if an image is required, use this: a boy just Thomas's age, and looking much like Thomas, even wearing the same royal blue overalls over a charcoal gray tee-shirt that Thomas wore that day, but with the important addition of glasses.

Dad wore glasses. So did the teacher. And so, in time, would this fellow, because as of this moment, the moment of his emergence, all he had was his mission: to guide Thomas in the role of both Dad and the teacher. All he knew was his purpose, which was to know everything else, everything he could find out, so that Thomas could be right as much as possible, so that he could say the right things and do the right things.

It was going to require a great deal of thought, so let's call him Thoughtful. Just for now.

As far as he could tell, he was alone. That too would change, and soon.

*****

The general consensus was that Thoughtful was the leader—after all, he was made of grown-ups. He wanted to be a good leader, since that was Right, but he had a problem.

There wasn't much to be the leader of.

It was mostly just him and Pretend, and things were awkward. Thoughtful liked Pretend—he was good company, most of the time—but he didn't get Pretend. Their worlds were so different!

Thoughtful's world was the real world, with real people and their feelings, and real things, and it was reasonably predictable. If Thomas did this, then that would happen. If he did this again, that should happen again...and if some other thing happened instead, it was probably a sign that the this wasn't quite the same the second time around.

Pretend's world was...everything but the real world, it seemed. Pretend made things up. He made up songs sometimes, and those were nice. He made up nicknames for people, and Thoughtful liked those quite a lot, because they usually played with the sounds of words and that made them funny. Pretend also made up stories, and that was where Thoughtful got confused, because telling a story was sort of like explaining something that happened, but the things in the story weren't real. Sometimes they were impossible, and those were Pretend's favorite kind of stories. Thoughtful knew that hitting people was Wrong, but Pretend could make up a story where hitting someone not only wasn't Wrong, it was actually Right, because the one you were hitting was a monster and you were hitting it with a magic sword, and that was the only way to save the villagers.

Thoughtful could agree that, all right, if the only way to save the villagers was to hit a monster with a magic sword, then that would be Right. But that was also the sort of thing that could never ever actually happen.

But Pretend's way of telling stories was better than some mind-people's. For example, there was Worry, who also made up monsters but forgot to include the magic sword. And there was Sneaky, who made up all kinds of things and said that they weren't made up, which offended Thoughtful so much that he could hardly stand it. Sneaky tried to make Thomas lie to other people, which would make him a bad person, and even worse, he tried to make Thomas lie to himself, which would make him a stupid person. No, Thoughtful didn't like Sneaky one bit, and as the leader, he made Sneaky mostly stay in the shadows around the edges of Thomas's mind. Worry hung out there a lot of the time too.

So it was mostly just him and Pretend, but maybe that was for the best. Thoughtful had a lot to do for Thomas as it was, without also having to do leader things all the time. He was busy, busy, busy all morning at kindergarten, helping Thomas learn his ABC's and how to count numbers (up to 50, and then 100! The teacher was very impressed) and how to share the LEGOs. He was busy after kindergarten too, helping Thomas behave for Mom while she ran errands—and that was hard sometimes, because the store was boring and he couldn't carry more than one or two toys and Shea always got the seat in the shopping basket because he was so little. Thoughtful was even busy on Sunday, helping Thomas learn the Ten Commandments and why they were important, and other things like that.

Sometimes he thought he might be too busy. But there was only one of him, so he figured he was stuck with it.

*****

Time passed, as time is wont to do.

*****

“Whatcha drawing there, kiddo?” asked Dad.

“It's my superhero, Splitman!” Thomas explained, holding up the crayoned paper.

“Oh yeah? What does he do?”

“He can split in two and fight two crimes at once! But each half only gets half his powers, so like if there's a plane crash and a bank robbery at the same time, he can be one guy who can fly and be super-strong, and another guy who can zap people with lightning and doesn't get hurt by bullets, and fix both things.”

“Wow! How creative! I bet he'll have all kinds of adventures!” Dad ruffled Thomas's hair and continued to the garage.

How...what?

“Get the dictionary, Thomas,” said Thoughtful. That was always the first place to look for new words, to see what they meant. “No, not K...it sounds like create, so it's probably in the C-words.”

“Did you hear that?” Pretend bubbled. “Dad likes Splitman! I bet everyone will like Splitman! We're gonna sell comic books and make a million dollars and be famous!”

Thoughtful found that unlikely, but didn't contradict him. Instead he said: “But maybe Splitman shouldn't zap bad guys with lightning. They could die, and a good guy should catch the bad guys alive so the police can take them to jail.”

Pretend pulled a face, but it was his “considering” face, not an unhappy one. “Maybe. What if he freezes the bad guys instead? Not in ice, but just, like, they can't move?”

Thomas found the word he was looking for and skimmed its definition. Then he read it more carefully, tracing the bigger words with his fingertip in order to sound them out syllable by syllable. Yeah, that made sense based on what Dad had said. Almost involuntarily, his gaze fell upon the next two words in the book—creatively and creativity, and he read their definitions as well, even though he had a pretty good idea of what they would mean.

“That's me!” Pretend said. “I'm changing my name! I'm Creativity now!”

Thoughtful frowned. “You can't just change your name.”

“Says who? I picked my name in the first place and I can change it if I want. Besides, we're not five anymore and I can do way more than just pretend. Drawing pictures isn't pretending, it's creative!” He flopped down on the sofa and wiggled around until he was hanging his head upside-down over the cushion. “You could change your name too. I bet you're more than just Thoughtful by now.”

More? Thoughtful recoiled from the very notion. If anything, he wished he could be a little less—Thomas was learning new things every day and it was so much to keep track of! If only someone else would show up in the mindscape to help take the slack! But Thomas was seven now, and there were about as many of them as there were going to be unless something drastic happened: Thoughtful himself, and Pre...Creativity, and Worry, and Sneaky, and one or two other shadow-lurkers.

He wondered what might happen if he did change his name. Creativity had changed his because he was changing and the old one didn't fit anymore. But was it possible for that to work the other way around? Could Thoughtful become less by naming himself something less? If so, what would happen to the other parts? Would someone else show up to be those, or would Thomas lose that part of himself?

Better not risk it. But maybe he could test the idea—change his name just a little, and see if his purpose changed at all, and also see what else happened. Then he would know if it was safe to go further.

Just a small, simple change...

And maybe he could improve the grammar while he was at it.

*****

More time passed.

*****

“Now what?” Thoughtfulness snapped. “I don't have time for this! I need to help Thomas study for his science test!”

“That is exactly my point,” said Dishonesty with a smug smile while Anxiety fumed. “Thomas doesn't need to study for the test. He knows everything that's going to be on it. He can draw more pictures instead.”

“What if Mom and Dad come in and catch him not studying?” Anxiety pointed out. “He'll get in trouble!”

“It will be fine, Anxiety. “He can keep the science book next to him and pick it up if he hears anyone coming. Then we'll all be happy.”

“I won't! What if—what if Ms. Feldman put something on the test that Thoughtfulness doesn't remember? Thomas needs to study for real so he isn't caught off guard!”

“But studying is no fuuuuuunnnnn!” Creativity lamented. “And I have this great idea for a picture! Where the knight is killing the dragon and there's all this blood coming out and it's wilting the flowers and there are unicorns crying and—”

“ENOUGH!” Thoughtfulness barked. “Mom and Dad told Thomas to study for the test, and that's what we're going to do! Creativity, your picture will have to wait! And I don't like some of the things you've been imagining lately! All this blood and guts...Thomas is a good kid, and he needs to stay that way!”

“He won't be a kid forever,” Creativity sulked. “Only babies are afraid of a little blood.”

“I'm surprised you're taking Anxiety's side, of all things,” Dishonesty said. “Not what I would expect after what happened between you two yesterday.”

“Anxiety was wrong yesterday,” Thoughtfulness said, causing Anxiety to flinch a little. “Nothing bad was going to happen to Thomas just for asking the lady in the store where the pens and pencils were.”

“...it might've...” Anxiety mumbled.

“I'm just saying that you're not being very consistent,” Dishonesty said.

“Enough, Dishonesty. Go away. In fact, all of you, go to your rooms. Thomas needs to concentrate.”

And so do I, he didn't add. Maybe it was Dishonesty's lingering presence that prompted that little lie of omission, but...whatever. Disputes like these were becoming more common, and Thoughtfulness was finding both his patience and his problem-solving abilities taxed to their limits...on top of which he was still responsible for everything he had always done for Thomas.

I can't keep doing this. It's too much for one Side to handle...but what can I do?

*****

Later that night, while Thomas slept, as Thoughtfulness sorted through the memories he had accumulated during the day, deciding what to keep long-term and what to chuck into the Subconscious, he found himself with company.

“Hi, Thoughtfulness...” Creativity said, singsong.

Thoughtfulness made a non-committal noise; he was focusing on his task.

“I've been thinking about what you said earlier, about my darker ideas?”

“Oh? And...?”

“And...” Creativity took a deep breath. “...you can keep your big mouth shut about it! Thomas's imagination is my job, not yours!”

Thoughtfulness was so shocked that he dropped the memory he was holding into the “keep” bin without looking at it. (It was just the shape of a stain on page 76 of Thomas's science textbook, so no real harm done, but sloppiness always bothered him.) “How dare you!” he retorted.

“You're always saying you have too much to do!” Creativity pointed out. “Well, here's something you can stop doing! Quit trying to control me! Because I'm busy too, and if you have to check everything I do to make sure it meets your 'standards,' neither of us will ever get any rest! Do you want to see all the ideas I had today?”

“Of course I—”

“Here they are! Have fun!” Creativity manifested a stack of paper the size of a phone book, dropped it at Thoughtfulness's feet, and sank out.

Thoughtfulness steeled himself and resolved not to look at the ideas until he was done sorting the memories, but he found himself on the brink of tears. “Too much...” he muttered under his breath, “too much...”

He didn't have to go through all the ideas. But if he didn't, he would just be letting the increasingly erratic Creativity win. He needed to keep things under control, to make sure Thomas remained good and sensible.

He glanced at the top of the pile. It bore a single line of written text: “Make up a song for Aunt Patty's birthday.” That seemed harmless enough. Thoughtfulness dropped the last few trivial memories into the “Subconscious” bin and turned his attention to Creativity's work.

The second idea was radically different from the first: “Make fart noises when Jimmy Zarnecki gives his book report.” Thoughtfulness tore that one up—he didn't like Jimmy Zarnecki any more than Creativity did, but being disruptive in class was a big no-no.

The third one took up half a dozen pages. Thoughtfulness stared at the top drawing for a moment before he recognized the figure portrayed. “Splitman...” he said. “We haven't thought about Splitman in over a year. I wonder...”

Creativity had redesigned the hero's costume with a column of interesting symbols down the middle of his torso. And as Thoughtfulness went through the other pages, he realized what they meant. Each one stood for one of Splitman's powers, and the papers were covered with drawings showing how he could divide himself into different complementary pairs to accomplish various tasks, with the symbols divvied up between the halves of each pair.

Thoughtfulness couldn't speak for the merit of the idea itself, but he thoroughly approved of the organization. And it got him...well, thinking...

Could he split in two? He had always brushed off the idea of it even being possible, but he realized that he had always framed it in terms of duplicating himself. When he contemplated something more like Splitman, it seemed oddly plausible. The rules inside Thomas's mind weren't the same as the rules outside it. They could shapeshift, materialize and dematerialize objects, even teleport. They had superpowers. What was one more?

He manifested a new, blank sheet of paper and a freshly sharpened pencil and began making two lists.

*****

Okay, time to try this thing...

Focus on just half of my job...focus on just the/h/ot/a/the/l/r/f/half

I don't have to be in charge of all of Thomas's insights, just the rat/emot/ion/al ones.

Which half will get the glasses?

NO! I was getting somewhere! Okay, try again and focus...

Just take one big step to the righ/lef/t.

Concentrate on being object/subject/ive.

Y/w/I/e/ou can do this.

Help Thomas know what's R/R/ig/igh/ht!—

SPLIT

*****

Creativity rose up in the commons and did a double-take. “You changed your look. The lighter blue looks good.”

“You don't know the half of it!” the other Side said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I guess you also changed your attitude.”

“Not exactly. Uh...Logic? Can you come here a sec?”

“Who's Log—ah!”

A second bespectacled figure had risen up beside the first. “Will this take long? I was helping Thomas devise a mnemonic for his science test...oh. I see.”

Creativity had taken several steps back. His eyes darted rapidly between the two of them. “Wait...wait...which one of you is Thoughtfulness and which one is new, and who are you?”

“It's a little complicated,” the one in the light blue overalls said a little sheepishly.

“It may very well be accurate to say that we are both new...but also that we are both Thoughtfulness,” said the other, who was dressed in a crisp black polo shirt and dark blue-violet slacks. He adjusted his glasses as he spoke. “The workload had become untenable and so I...we...he...Thoughtfulness divided into two, in order to specialize for greater efficiency.”

“Divided in two? You—we—can do that?”

“It sure looks that way, doesn't it, kiddo?”

“Going forward, I will handle Thomas's logical thinking and intellectual learning, whereas Morality here will be responsible for his emotional intelligence and moral judgments.”

“Hey!” said Morality. “Morality was my father...you can just call me Dad!”

Creativity grimaced. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“Yyyes...I seem to have received all the sense in the equation,” said Logic. “It was largely by design.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were planning to do this?” said Creativity.

“Because we did not exist until it was done,” said Logic. “Lacking existence, we had no ability to tell you.”

“Oh yeah, you'll have to get used to that,” said Morality. “Logic tends to take things literally. Anyway, Creativity, it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision when Thoughtfulness saw your new pictures of Splitman. He made a list of everything he does, sorted it into two lists, and then...willed himself into two parts. And now here we are!”

“So Thoughtfulness is...gone?”

“Not precisely.”

“Everything about him is still here, kiddo, it's just not...all together. But this is really for the best. We'll be able to help Thomas a lot better now that there's two of us. And we'll fight with you less since we'll be less stressed out.”

“So...which one of you is the leader?”

Logic and Morality traded a glance. There was an eerie synchrony to their movements, as if they weren't quite completely separate. “We can work that out a little later,” said Morality. “And Anxiety and Dishonesty should be there too. This concerns everyone.”

“Are we done for now?” asked Logic. “Thomas needs me.” Without even waiting for an answer, he sank back out.

“He seems nice,” Creativity muttered, his voice brimming with sarcasm.

Morality sighed. “We'll work on that. And...Creativity?”

“Hmm?”

“Since it's just you and me right now, we need to have us a little talk about some of your ideas...”

Author's Notes: I wrote this to explore a little idea I had about Logan and Patton having been one at some point. It can't have escaped anyone's notice that their logos match—just as Roman's and Remus's do.

Thomas is five in the first part of the story, seven in the middle part, and about nine in the last part.

My headcanon regarding OG Creativity is that he started out mostly like Roman is today. But as Thomas got older and picked up influences from various less wholesome sources, he started indulging in more violent fantasies, gross-out humor, etc., until Thomas (via Patton and probably Virgil) was horrified enough to lock all that stuff away, resulting in the creation of Remus. That's not, by the way, what's about to happen at the end of the story. It's not that bad yet. Morality is going to try to talk Creativity around first.

[bluebellhairpin]

Marvel Headcanons - Road Trips

A/N: I’m a horrible person. But at least my procrastination of my asks is being for-filled in a way that still sprouts content. - Nemo

Summary: The Avengers and their S/O go on a road trip. Gods? Mutants? Aliens? with them, what could go wrong? 

Masterlist  

Loki Laufeyson

Bruh. You go on a road-trip with this guy and you’re gonna really wish you d i d n ‘ t. 

Tricks. So many tricks. This guy can’t drive a car, he has nothing to do except play tricks. Look At That Face, no remorse, no mercy. You gotta be strong af to survive a trip like this with Loki. 

bUt he does buy you all the food. And all the stuff you like. In mass amounts. (“(y/n), you said you liked this sweet packet stuff right? Ah, good. I brought five boxes so we don’t run out.” ) Like five whole boxes

So what’s it gonna be? Trickery for food? Yay or nay? Yay, definitely yay. 

Peter Parker/Spider-Man

You will not sleep. Y’all get too hyped up of junk food and adrenaline to sleep for more then half an hour at a time so POWER NAPS ALL THE WAY THERE AND BACK

He video’s everything. He says it’s to show May and Tony when you get back but we all know the truth. Its so he can get one of those cool old-style videos of you No shame that boy has.

He lets you pick all the music, as long as it’s not AC/DC because he had an experience with Tony that involved ‘Thunderstruck’, hacking and his suits earpieces that lasted a over a week that we s h a l l n o t  s p e a k o f e v e r

But overall it’s a really cute trip. So cliche. So romantic. So amazing.

Tony Stark/Iron Man

Loves every second because it’s with you and after everything he’s been through that is all he needs and wants.

He has playlists, cars, hotel reservations, restaurant reservations, food stops, food stashes, sights to see. All these things are ready before you even suggested getting away for a couple days. 

Turns into a sappy, flirty mess. It’s almost like the trip turned back time to when you both first met and the only problem he had was making a new missile to sell to some place in Afghanistan.

He’s just so ready for a break, low and behold please give i t t o H i m

Steve Rogers/Captain America

Road-trips with Steve are done on the back of his motorbike and you can fight me on this. Mostly because he likes it when you wrap your arms around his torso so yeah fight me again.

Despite the trip being a road trip you both spend a lot of time at stops and motels instead of on the road. He likes taking things slow, since he hasn’t gotten to do things slowly for over four years after he woke up. He’s very grateful if you let him do this.

He lets you take lots of photo’s of him whether you’re good at it or not doesn't bother him. Even frames one you took of his silhouette because it looks that good to him. 

 Becomes addicted to cocktails after the second road trip because “they’re so colourful and come in so many flavours, (y/n) have you tried this blue one yet? Look they have one named after me-” 

Thor Odinson

He gets so hyped and excited. 

He really loves travelling and learning about earth more like you teaching him about earth stuff so he’s so optimistic about the whole trip and that attitude rubs off on you so you end up coming home all happy too.

He brings lollies/sweets/candy with you and lemme say you are bouncing off the walls the whole damn time. One time he got so hyped on sugar he almost summoned lighting. 

You take Loki sometimes. He pretends he doesn't like it, but he does. He thought we wouldn’t notice but we did. So Loki ends up being the ‘bored’ third wheel while you and Thor stuff your faces with sour worms, chocolate, and gobstoppers.  

Bruce Banner/Hulk

He’s gets so soft, and that makes you soft, and then you come back and your combined softness makes everyone else so very soft.

He worries about Hulk coming out and ruining the trip and the car but you constantly tell him and reassure him that it’s fine and you’ve managed to hone the ability to calm Hulk down when things get out of hand.

Needless to say he relaxes almost completely and w o w you didn’t know he sung that well.

And damn when you come back he’s like a changed man. Shyness? Almost gone. Reluctance to join conversations? Hell N a h. He almost becomes Tony 2.0 but only around you because “No one will believe you (y/n)”

Clint Barton/Hawkeye/Ronin

Clint almost l i v e s for road trips with you. I say almost because he lives for you.

You hunt down carnivals so he can win you all the prizes. The others aren't even surprised when you come back with a carload at stuffed toys anymore.

You also stop at a number of piers and sit at the end with fish and chips and some beer and just talk. Life. The future. The past. That one slice of pizza that tasted better than any others you've ever eaten in your entire lives.

You guys just do so much stuff. And its all so wholesome and pure and s o f t. 

Peter Quill/Star Lord

Did someone say road trip? Peter has all the tunes.

So much as touch the radio/speakers without his knowledge and you're preparing yourself to (possibly) walk home. He doesn't care if you're the other side of the country. You will walk.

He's a sucker for staying up and stargazing with you. He'll point out all the planets he's been to, and all the ones he wants to take you to later.

While Stargazing, be prepaid to have him jump up and pull you to him if a 'dancing song' comes on. That can range from the 'Livin La Vida Loca' to 'All of Me’. It's amazing. 

Scott Lang/Ant-Man

He's a dad. He knows how to keep others and himself  entertained on long trips.

Magic tricks. Snacks. Music. Jokes. Everything and anything you can think of to pass time, he's got it ready and waiting.

Sometimes he takes Cassy with you, and honesty things become more fun (if that's at all possible). Which means, for you, more food, music from your childhood, and embarrassing stories about Scott that Cass had managed to get hold of.

Overall it’s pretty cute going on road trips with Scott, that and it’s never ever boring. 

T’Challa/Black Panther

He’s a king, and a very busy one at that. So when you manage to pull him away from his duties he treats you extremely well. 

First he takes you to a certain county (Once it was Singapore (that was a very luxurious trip), another time Hawaii, etc), then he gets a hire car and takes you wherever else you’d like go.

Every time, every trip, he finds a Starbucks. He collects the cups and brings them back to Okoye. He does it to spite her. You know it.

He gets much more relaxed on the trips, and always comes back being able to deal with his duties much better.

Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier

Wow okay first off, Bucky loves road trips with you. 

He manages to persuade Tony to lean him one of his fancy older cars and takes you along the coast in that. He’s a coast road trip type of guy.

He really loves the beach, the only thing that gets in his way is the sand and salty water getting in the joints of his arm, but he says he can “just take it off, don’t worry darlin’.” so yeah it’s r e a l l y not a problem. 

If he can't get a hold of one of Tony’s old cars, he gets an old pickup truck/ute and camps outside on the back with you and watches the stars and has old 30′s/40′s music playing from the radio. It’s pretty cute. Like him. 

Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler

Mate. This guy has no idea what he's doing. 

Once he tried to bring, like, a whole ass record player because he was worried there’d be nothing to dance along to. Seriously, Kurt, we have a ca r a d i o for that. Precious Baby Boy.

He’s also pretty young, so be prepared to have lots of contraband School food (sour lollies, chips, etc) stashed everywhere in the car. This boy will eat all the junk food he can lay his three-fingered hands on. R E S T R A I N HIM. 

He'd probably take every opportunity he can to cuddle you or take you hand in his. He’s not quite used to doing ‘normal’ stuff like this, so the fact he’s doing something like that with you means a lot. 

Doctor Stephen Strange

He’s, um. He’s not used to this sort of thing either.

He’s been this arrogant, selfish, self-absorbed neurosurgeon for as long as he can remember. The most social and intimate thing he’s used to doing is ‘faking it’ with some random to make him look good.

BUT, sudeNly with you he kinda turns to a charismatic, sweetheart gentleman that will actually take you wherever you’d like to go. France? Okay. Brazil? Just south a little. China? Food’s great there. Russia? We’ll take ice skating lessons before we go. 

He can’t actually leave NYC for long, but he will spend as much time with you on trips away because they help him relax and it’s n i c e.

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Best AU Part 2: The Pining Awakens

This is a fanfiction written with the permission of @spookyboywhump and @ihaventwritteninsolong. This chapter features Allen’s characters Wren and Zander, with plenty of references to Edwin’s character Cathal.

Wrote this pure, unadulterated fluff to help get out of the writing block I got driven into near the end of May. A nice, happy palate cleanser if you will. Linked here is the previous part to this with proper explanation as to what’s going on with this universe lol.

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

Zander hadn’t moved from his one spot on the couch since he’d come in some twenty minutes earlier. At first, Wren thought he might have just been in a mood. He got quiet like that sometimes after a particularly bad day... would sit on the couch, curled up as he broke down slowly, and Wren could only hope Zander would open up and talk a little so he could help.

But today was different. He’d been curled up, staring intently at his phone, typing and scrolling at odd intervals. A vaguely frustrated expression was set into his face, but there was something softer behind it. Slowly, carefully, Wren walked over from the kitchen and sat on a chair across from the couch.

Zander didn’t even look up.

“Soo… how was your day?” Wren asked softly, and Zander jerked in surprise. It was like he hadn’t even noticed his presence. 

“Mmh, good,” he hummed, and Wren had to hold back a smile at his transparency. 

“Anything... particularly good happen?”

“No.” Zander bit back a guilty smirk, but he saw the beginnings of it on his face. As he stood from his chair, Wren was sure he’d never heard a worse lie in his life. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“So I’m guessing there’s also no reason you’ve had your nose buried in your phone since the minute you got here?”

Zander sighed heavily, breath hitching with barely contained laughter, clicking off his phone and shooting a tired glance at Wren. The shorter man had the height advantage for once, and walked over to stand above Zander as he curled further back into the couch. He had his hands on his hips and the smarmiest grin plastered on his face.

“C’mon. What’s their name, Zander?”

“Huh? Whose name?” he asked, still feigning ignorance.

“The cute person you met today and can’t stop thinking about, obviously.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zander said quickly, almost too quietly for Wren to hear.

“And I don’t know your phone password so I can catch you off guard and verify my theory,” he smiled, and his friend sighed. They’d played that game before, and Zander had always lost in the end. He could change the passcode or leave entirely, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle at this point.

“So~” he sing-songed, “What’s their name?”

“I dunno, I didn’t catch it,” Zander shrugged.

Wren gave him a pointed glare.

“Cathal.”

The glare intensified.

“Ugh, Cathal Weber. That’s his full name. Happy now?”

“Very,” Wren grinned devilishly, flopping on the couch next to him and snuggling up close so he could stare at the glowing phone screen. It was open to the Instagram search bar, no results showing. “Did you find all his social media accounts yet?”

“Literally the opposite,” he groaned, “Sir Cute Hot Chocolate Man has apparently never seen a computer in his life.”

“So you met him at work, then,” Wren declared.

“Ugh, yes. And before you yell at me, he was new, and I did ask for his last name even though I didn’t need it,” he muttered. 

“Zander…” he adopted a serious expression, voice heavy with false concern, “you can’t keep doing this...”

“Fuck you, I do what I want.” Zander grabbed a pillow and swung it weakly at him as the younger man snickered.

“Alright, so tell me more about this Cathal “Hot Chocolate Hottie” Weber,” he mimed quotes with his fingers, and Zander went red.

“Hey, don’t call him that!” he pouted indignantly.

“Oh right, I forgot. The cute nicknames are just for you lovebirds,” Wren teased.

“I just met him!”

“And look at the mess he’s made of you already…”

“I’m perfectly put together and can absolutely banish his glorious fucking face from my mind whenever I want to, thank you very much!” Zander shouted, face almost completely red at that point.

Wren let the silence hang in the air for a few seconds.

“So.”

“So, what?” Zander crossed his arms.

“You have a lot to say right now and you’re not letting it out.”

“Maybe.” Wren raised a brow, waiting for him to go on. “Okay! So, imagine the hottest, most angelic human being you’ve ever seen, then-”

“Zander, you lost me already.”

“Aghhhhh, are you seriously gonna make me describe him?”

“Listen, unless you want me to picture a person on fire every time you call this boy hot because that’s all the word hot means to me, then I’m gonna need some words to go off of,” Wren said, waving his hands animatedly as he spoke.

“Alright. Imagine this boy; he’s only a little shorter than me-”

“Aw come on, not another giant in the family!” he whined.

“Do you want to hear or not?!”

“Oh no, go on, go on. I’ll be crying in Short over here.” Wren sank back into the couch, and Zander sighed heavily before he spoke again. 

“...okay. A little shorter than me, and cute kinda wavy hair that just looked really soft. It was sort of blond-ish, but a little sandier? Hard to describe, but he had the most breathtaking blue eyes and wore this apron in the same color that really brought them out...” he trailed off, expression dreamy and caught up in the memory of Cathal.

“Sorry, apron? You didn’t say he was a new coworker, unless...”

“No, he works at that flower shop down the street. Sunflora.”

“I still can’t believe they named it after a Pokémon,” Wren laughed. “But cute boy? Likes flowers? I can telepathically sense that he’s a twink? Might as well have taken a boy and printed ‘Zander’s type’ on his forehead.”

“Oh my god, Wren, shut up. You can’t just break into my mind to get a look at the hot guy, that’s a breach of privacy.”

“Hot, shmot. I wouldn’t waste my mind reading powers on that,” he waved a dismissive hand. “Now tell me about his alluring personality.” Wren wiggled his eyebrows jokingly and Zander rolled his eyes.

“Well, okay first off, he was super polite and nice, and he did the cutest thing where he forgot he was wearing his work name tag, right? And I felt really bad for reading his name off of it at the time and I think it freaked him out a bit, but it was really charming how genuine he was too you know? And then he ordered his hot chocolate with marshmallows, and that was just- really fucking cool of him. Like, could you ever get the courage, as a full grown adult, to ask for marshmallows in your drink and not immediately feel like someone’s gonna look down on you?”

“Zander, I still get carded for buying wine at the grocery store. I’ve transcended embarrassment and risen into a plane of pure indifference.”

“Okay, well that doesn’t apply to you. But still, even just working at a flower shop? Screw gender roles and societal norms and all that, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t gonna be climbing out of the woodwork to drag you for being a man who dares to get anywhere near flowers. I just- He had the most beautiful laugh. And he was wearing the cutest sweater too, with a collared shirt under it in these nice pastel colors and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more confident and fucking badass than that…” Zander trailed off, tears glistening in his eyes.

“...you need a minute?”

“No, no I’m good I just-” Zander sat up, wiping at his eyes, but when Wren wrapped him up in a hug he fell apart completely. “Wren… oh, Wren, he’s fucking incredible…” He tucked his head in the crook of Wren’s neck, arms shaking and eyes glassy, “...and I know he’s never gonna like me back, or I might never see him again, but I’m never gonna forget him for as long as I live…”

“Woah, hey, slow down,” Wren said, rubbing circles into his back absentmindedly. “You can’t just make assumptions like that before you know more. We’ve talked about this.”

“But every time, I swear, all the pretty guys are straight, and all the nice girls are gay, and if they aren’t any of those then they’re aro, or they’re taken…” he rested his full weight against Wren, who laid down sideways with a small ‘oof’, wrapping his arms tighter around his friend.

“Let me ask you a question then. How much time did it take him to say a word when he first stepped up to the counter?” 

“Well… probably thirty seconds at least? But that was definitely my fault for tripping over my line, and then that whole name thing…”

“Mmhmm, right,” Wren nodded, “I’m only gonna take your first sentence into account there. So when he did speak, how much did he trip over his words?”

“Oh, a lot actually, but I think he just had a stutter.”

“Okay, fair,” he conceded, “different question then. What was he staring at when he wasn’t talking?”

“Uhhhh…” Zander trailed off, trying to remember. “I don’t know, he kinda looked around in front of him without moving his head very much, like he was lost?”

“That’s called ‘checking you out,’ dumbass. He’s definitely into you.”

Zander made an unbelieving ‘hmph’ sound and wrapped himself tighter around Wren, making sure to move further to the side so he didn’t suffocate him. 

“Alright, you gotta move though so I can cook-” he started, but cut himself off when Zander looked up, his dark eyes silently pleading. “-but on second thought, I’m really hungry for pizza tonight. Wanna order out?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Zander sighed, tucking his head back down as Wren dug out his phone and dialed their favorite restaurant. He was silent then, except for a quick whispered reminder to request an extra turn in the oven so their pizza would still be nice and crispy when it arrived.

They were quiet for a long while after that, and by the time the doorbell rang Zander’s breathing had evened out and he slept peacefully, still holding on to Wren.

Bonus: here are the only notes I made before writing this chapter.

“Plans: hmm wren. Then they get to cuddle because allen can’t fucking stop me. But wren is still being petty because i love him“

and that’s the tea, really.